Experiment of Madness

28-Unbeknown Desires-Dag

I lean against the wall, arms crossed, my expression a mix of annoyance and frustration. Dr. Paul has contacted me again about Emilia, the lunatic girl causing trouble again. Why am I being treated like a babysitter for crazy people? This thought crosses my mind. It's becoming a tiresome role to play.

My mind flickers back to the recent conflict with Aerra, adding to the annoyance and stress. I can't shake the memory of our fight, and now I have to deal with Emilia again. It's piling up, one problem after the other.

I look up, meeting Emilia's eyes as she questions, "Why aren't you saying anything?" A question that only adds to my irritation. I sigh heavily, the weight of her presence and the burden of dealing with her only growing.

I look up, meeting Emilia's eyes as she questions, "Why aren't you saying anything?" A question that only adds to my irritation. I sigh heavily, the weight of her presence and the burden of dealing with her only growing.

Her question is met with my usual bluntness. "What do you want me to say? How pathetic are you, or how desperate?" My words come across as harsh, my tone reflecting my annoyance. I'm not here to coddle her feelings.

My words hang in the air, harsh and uncompromising, but I don't stop there. I lean casually against the wall, my arms still crossed. "You're causing nothing but trouble, and the last thing I want to be is your babysitter," I express, my tone sharp and accusatory.

My eyes narrow at her direct request. "Then don't be my babysitter, be mine." Her words catch me off guard. I raise an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and skepticism in my expression. "Be yours?" I echo, my voice tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

My voice is laced with a mix of sarcasm and frustration. "Look at me, you pathetic insect. I don't belong to anyone. Whatever I want belongs to me. Do not forget that," I speak coldly, my words carrying a harsh edge.

Her hurt expression catches my eye, but before I can respond, she quickly pleads, "Then make me yours. I can help you. I'll do whatever you want, just let me be yours." Her words hang in the air, vulnerability and desperation in her eyes.

I respond harshly, my expression and words displaying my disdain. "Why should I make you mine? I don't need you," my voice carries a cold edge, "I don't want to see you," my gaze unwavering, "I'm done with you." My words are deliberate, a harsh dismissal, as if to make my lack of interest clear.

I attempt to walk away, my emotions guarded, as she reaches out and grabs my arm, turning me back toward her. It's a moment of discomfort and confusion as she holds onto me, forcing me to face her.

Her eyes meet mine, and she's furious, the words falling from her lips in an outburst of frustration. "Why?" she yells, pushing me with force. "Why won't you?" Her emotions boil over, pushing me roughly, her question echoing in my mind.

As she pushes me, her question lingers, its implication echoing in my mind. "Did you find someone saint?" It's a question that cuts deeper than she might realize, tapping into my fears, insecurities, my own complex desires.

I laugh, a dark chuckle escapes my lips, my cynicism rearing its ugly head. "I didn't find someone saint," The laughter faded quickly, my tone becoming more jaded, "it's opposite. I found someone crazier." The truth of my situation hitting home, a dark realization that I have found someone even more unpredictable and unstable than the situation before.

Her expression changes, taken aback by my revelation. The laughter fades, leaving behind a tense silence, her face a mask of surprise and confusion, my words sinking in.

She responds defiantly, her voice tinged with a hint of a self-deprecating laugh. "I can be crazy," she asserts, her statement a grim reminder of the surroundings, the walls of the mental hospital confining her. "I'm in the damn mental hospital. I'm crazy." Her admission hits home, a bitter acknowledgment of her current reality.