Experiment of Madness

10-Unveiling the Mind-Aerra

I examined my reflection in the mirror, my eyes scanning my disheveled hair. It looked awful, the chopped strands uneven and chaotic. I ran my fingers through it, sighing at the messy result.

My thoughts drifted back to my hair as it had been before, long, and beautiful. The thought of it now, chopped and uneven, filled me with a mix of frustration and sadness. Why had I done this?

I found myself thinking about Cannibal, wondering what he was doing at that moment. Was he thinking about me? Did he miss me? The questions swirled in my mind, my thoughts a chaotic mix of curiosity and hope.

The thought of Cannibal finding another rider crept into my mind, a sudden pang of jealousy and sadness hitting me. Could he have truly moved on so quickly? The idea that I could be replaced sent a wave of insecurity through me.

Despair washed over me, my thoughts dwelling on the bleak circumstances of my life. In a moment of self-reflection, I acknowledged that the only reason I hadn't given up completely was the need for food - the basic necessity that sustained my existence.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus on the simple task of eating. With trembling hands, I picked up the fork and began to eat the eggs.

Dag's words had me curious, the mention of his brother and sister sparking some interest. "Dag has a brother who lives here," he had said, "A sister and his brother's girlfriend, their parents too." He hadn't given me any more details, leaving me with only tidbits of information about his family.

My heart skipped a beat at the sound of the bathroom door opening, the sudden noise catching me off guard.

My initial panic subsided, replaced by relief when I saw Dag standing there. I let out a sigh, the tension in my body slowly untwisting.

Dag raised an eyebrow at me, a mixture of curiosity in his expression. "Why are you eating in the bathroom?" he asked, his tone mildly amused.

I clutched the small plate of eggs in my hands and stepped out of the bathroom, Dag's gaze still on me as I walked out. I could feel his eyes on me, his curiosity and scrutiny making me feel a bit self-conscious.

I made my way over to Dag's bed and sat down, the mattress sinking beneath me. Dag, meanwhile, settled into the chair nearby, his eyes fixed on me as I tried to make myself comfortable.

I was puzzled by Dag's early return from school. Normally, he would arrive around 3 p.m., but today he was here at 1 pm. My curiosity got the best of me, and I voiced the question that had been on my mind. "Why are you back from school so early today?" I asked, my voice tinged with slight confusion.

Dag's response caught me off guard, his tone matter-of-fact yet hinting at something deeper. "I didn't go to school," he admitted, "I was at the hospital."

Dag's eyes followed me as I stood up, my sudden movement betraying my anxiety. "Why? What?" I stammered, my voice filled with a mix of worry and dread. "Are you going to return me?" The words came out in a rush, as if voicing my own fears would somehow make them less real.

A shiver ran down my spine at Dag's words. The implication was clear: my fate was dependent on his perception of my behavior. "If you're good, I won't," he said, his tone matter-of-fact and slightly ominous. I knew deep down that his definition of "good" was anything but easy to achieve.

Dag's vague response piqued my curiosity. "I had some business there," he said, his words leaving me to wonder what kind of "business" could possibly require a visit to that hospital.

"What are you trying to achieve with this 'experiment'?" I inquired, my voice filled with both curiosity and a hint of wariness.

Dag turned his gaze to me, assessing my question. He was quiet for a moment, as if contemplating how much to reveal. Finally, he spoke, his tone measured. "I'm studying your behavior, your reactions," he said, the words hanging in the air between us. "I'm studying how you respond to certain stimuli, certain situations."

I couldn't help but ask the obvious question. "Why?" I repeated, my voice a mixture of skepticism and intrigue. Dag held my gaze, his eyes intense and thoughtful. "Because I want to understand," he replied. "I want to understand why you are the way you are."

Dag's gaze was fixed on his notebook now, his pen poised atop the page. "Tell me more about your childhood," he requested, his tone casual yet focused. I swallowed, the memories of my past stirring within me.

Dag glanced up from his notebook, his attention on me once again. "Are you a psychologist?" I asked, the question lingering between us.

Dag's revelation took me by surprise, the unexpectedness of his declaration striking me. "I want to be a neurologist," he said, his voice betraying a hint of ambition and determination.

I stared at him, suddenly seeing him in a new light. A future doctor, intent on understanding the complexities of the human mind.

I can picture him like this.

As Dag spoke, realization dawned on me. His interest in studying my brain, the focus of his experiment, was not merely born out of curiosity. It was a means to satisfy his own desire to understand the complexities of the human mind, specifically my own. "That's why I want to study your brain," he explained, "Your brain is different than the others."

Dag's gaze remained focused on his notebook, the pen in his hand poised to write. "Now start with your childhood," he instructed, his tone a mix of command and interest.

I spoke truthfully, my words reflecting the simplicity of my childhood. "There's nothing much to say," I began, my voice a weary murmur. "I was introverted as a kid, always running away from people and locking myself up in my room all day, all night."

My mind flickered to the voices that had plagued me, the constant presence in my mind that had driven me to seek solitude. "Because of the voices," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I was little," I continued, "didn't understand how people would see me. I would talk to the voice in my head. People thought I was crazy." The words slipped out, tinged with a trace of shame and bitterness.
"Especially since the doctors said they weren't sure what was wrong," I murmured, my voice laced with a quiet pain.

"Is Ronerys  your only sibling ?I Googled it, but nothing came."

"Because there are a few people with Valerian blood," I muttered, my voice laced with a mix of wonder and unease. "Plus, they're across the sea in their own world," I added.

"Can you recall the first time you heard the voice in your mind?"
My thoughts stirred at the question, my mind casting back into the depths of my past.

The memory flooded back to me, a moment from my early childhood. "When I was like three," I replied, my tone distant as if transported to another time and place.

Dag nodded. "And have you ever been able to control when it talks?"

I shook my head, trying to articulate the feeling of the moment. "No," I murmured, a hint of frustration in my voice, "It's hard to describe. It was like nothing I've ever experienced before. It just...spoke to me."

I paused, trying to find the right words to describe the experience accurately. "I remember being so confused," I continued, my voice tinged with a hint of fear. "I didn't know what was happening. It was like...like someone was in my head, talking to me."

I could feel Dag's gaze on me, his curiosity and intensity making my heart race. "It was like a whisper at first," I explained, the memory flooding back to me. "A soft, almost imperceptible sound, but it grew more distinct. It became a clear voice, as if someone was speaking directly into my mind."

Dag's words snapped me back to the present, the seriousness in his tone catching my attention. "If it speaks to you again," he said, his gaze steady on me, "Tell me."

I nodded.

"Has it spoken to you recently?"

I shook my head.

"Why is that?"

His question felt both genuine and calculated, as if he was coaxing information from me.

I was at a loss to explain the sudden silence of the voice in my mind. "I... don't know," I murmured.
"When did it stop speaking?"
"It stopped speaking when you found out about it," I admitted, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

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