Made Perfect

15

(IK)

Months go by, yet nothing changes. I am tired of being in here. I can not stand to stare at those blinding tiles any longer. My mind has no place to wander besides the cage that is this room. How many ways can I spell it out for these alleged authority figures before they cast pity on me and set me free? I behave like a good dog and get no reward. By now, it is obvious that I will never be granted a way out. I must be a prisoner of sorts. My strange treatment led to such conclusions. The routine eats away at my sanity day by day, however I still cannot find it in me to care. If I truly go insane, what is there to lose? Perhaps then I could have delusions that help my mind escape without the use of anesthesia.

My only source of entertainment has been drying up. Piecing together the truth behind my capture has few useful leads from this perspective. First, my indirect questions to the Steering Committee led to mostly vague or rehearsed answers much like before, only now they did not enjoy my frequency of asking. Second, my context clues ruled out the car accident theory completely. Obvious from the beginning how shaky their pathetic story is. I made up a heartfelt request for wanting to see the face of the man who did this to me. "He's in prison, Kamukura. You have your justice." I acted like I only wanted peace of mind. The nervousness in my request for a simple photograph told me everything. Despite them printing off one of a likely random criminal to ease my innocent desire. Lastly, my direct questions for Matsuda began. I know he would despise the roundabout method I used on his superiors. Typically, all he would do is look up at the observation window and mouth for 'some other time.' My prediction is that he was buying time to figure something out. Perhaps to gather evidence of the truth.

The time has come. I can feel it. My theories on the truth range from being a kidnap victim for their entertainment in some sadistic mental torture to it all being a mind game to find out how long Hope's Peak Academy's top student could handle something as benignly insanity inducing as this. Although, it is difficult to come up with solid theories with a lack of sufficient information. Perhaps that is the point. Clues too obvious would make their game boring. How ironic.

As I sit here, brushing my now ridiculously long hair, I know the first part of my dreaded routine would come through that door in 3... 2... 1... Matsuda enters with a tray of breakfast. I thought about using starvation as a method of rebellion, but that would most likely only have me uncomfortable with no reaction from them or have them use drastic measures if it got too extreme. I would rather not waste my energy on a rebellion unless I knew it had a realistic goal. He sets the tray down as I continue to brush. "You should cut your hair if it's giving you problems." Matsuda says matter of factly before drinking cheap green tea from a can, his favorite. Shrugging at his observation, I do not hide my reasoning for keeping it so long. "It gives me something to do." Even if I desperately want to cut it, how would I do that? No scissors in my captivity. Are they worried about me hurting myself?

"Figures." Matsuda replies with a scoff. I decide to cut straight to the chase, something I know he would appreciate. "Is it time yet?" I am sure to mouth the words. He checks his bent up watch before answering as if he thought I meant it literally. "Aren't you enjoying the chase of figuring it out? I don't care how smart you are, there's no way you're even close." How kind of him. Typically he still refers to me as 'dumbass'. Perhaps he really is softening up. Suppose it is easier to do in whispers. "The search is becoming dry. I could talk about my theories here, but y-" He does not hesitate to cut me off. Never has. "No, not here. You want those old bastards to hear and make your life even shittier? If we're going to have this conversation, we need to go somewhere else for a while." He is sure to mouth that last sentence. They can hear us. We have not been out in such a long time. Months. He said he could not do such things anymore. I predict the outside of this room upped its security measures sometime around my last surgery. Whenever that was. "Where would we go?" I slide my tray closer to me as I ask to muffle my voice for the audience.