Experiment of Madness

34-Echoes in the Darkness-Aerra

Confused, I open my eyes to find myself in Dag's arms, being carried and gently laid on the bed by him. I'm left momentarily disoriented, wondering how we ended up here, the previous scene still vivid in my mind. Dag carefully sets me down delicately on the bed, his comforting touch bringing me back to the present.

Dag's voice is gentle, a soft command to sleep. "Sleep," he whispers, his words comforting and reassuring, the weight of exhaustion suddenly flooding in.
I express gratitude, the words escaping my lips in a murmur of appreciation. "Thank you. I felt free tonight," I say.
Dag attempts to respond, opening his mouth to say something, but I close my eyes, cutting off his words.

The voice within me asks a question, a whisper that pierces through my thoughts. "Do you think you're free?" It asks, the words echoing in my mind, a nagging doubt seeping into consciousness.The voice takes a dark turn, whispering a harsh truth that pierces my thoughts. "You're not. You're a prisoner. You'll never be happy," it repeats the bleak and pessimistic message.

The voice within me continues, planting seeds of doubt and insecurity, the questions growing darker. "Do you even deserve to be happy?" the voice asks, the words chipping away at my self-worth, amplifying the doubts and feelings of unworthiness.

The voice probes further, questioning the possibility of freedom. "Can you even be free?" It utters, digging at the very foundations of my hope, the words echoing in my mind and undermining my hope for liberation.

I open my eyes, feeling a knot in my throat as I swallow, the voice's questions weighing heavily on my heart.Dag puts aside his book, his gaze meeting mine. He had been sitting in a chair next to his desk, and he remarks, "You slept a lot," his voice casual yet tinged with concern.

There's a pause as Dag waits for me to respond, his eyes studying my face, observing my expression. "More than usual anyways," he adds, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity, his attention focused on me, monitoring my reaction.

I admit, a hint of confusion in my voice, "Yeah, I don't know why, but I felt good."Dag nods, confirming, "Yes, you slept all day," he replies, his voice gentle. The revelation catches me off guard; time had seemingly slipped away from me in sleep, a full day passed without my awareness.

Dag's concern is apparent, a hint of worry in his eyes as he watches me closely, his voice a mixture of worry and curiosity. He asks, "How do you feel?" His tone implies he's genuinely concerned about my wellbeing.

Dag stands up, moving closer to me, his hand gently reaching to touch my forehead, checking my temperature. His concern is evident in his gesture, checking for any discomfort or signs of illness.

I respond truthfully, "I feel good," my voice is steadying and honest. It's true; the rest has left me feeling better than I had in a long while.

He lowers his gaze, his eyes now focused on the cuts, his concern growing as he gently inspects the cuts on my skin.

I wonder to myself, questioning why he's worried, the intensity of his concern making me curious. I look at him, waiting for him to reveal his thoughts.

I admit, my voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I liked this Devil's night; it was really exciting," I share my thoughts, recalling the thrilling and intense experiences of the night before.

There's a slight pause before he replies, his smirk widening slightly, "Yeah?" he responds, his voice hinting that he's amused.
I smile, the genuine amusement evident in the subtle curve of my lips. "Yeah," I affirm.

"What part of it you liked the most?" he inquires, a hint of curiosity in his voice, pushing for more information about my enjoyment.

I keep my inner thoughts to myself, not voicing the memory of being with him on the motorcycle. Instead, I shrug casually, trying to hide my amusement. "I don't know," I reply, my voice playing nonchalant, wanting to maintain some privacy in what I truly enjoyed the most.

The voice in my head chimes in, "You're all alone." The words echo in my mind, a stark reminder of the solitude that often wraps around me

I swallow, the words from the voice hitting close to home, a knot forming in my throat, the feeling of loneliness resurfacing.

The voice continues, "You're so alone, so broken, so mad."

I let out a whispered plea to the voice in my head. "Stop," my breath caught, trying to push away the harsh words it's throwing at me. The struggle is evident as the voice persists, relentless in its commentary.

Dag's voice interjects, his question cutting through the chaos in my mind. "Stop what?" he asks, noticing my whispered plea, unaware of my internal battle.

I clarify quickly, not wanting him to misinterpret. "No, not you," I assure him, the internal battle evident in the way my voice trembles slightly as I respond.

Dag sits on the bed, shifting his position on the mattress, his body close to mine as he makes himself comfortable.
"Dag, did you find out something about me... my mental health?" The words escape my lips, filled with curiosity and worry, the need for reassurance evident in the slight hint of trepidation in my tone.

He says, his voice soft yet commanding, "Don't think about those things. Leave them to me."
I insist, my voice carrying a hint of determination. "I want to know, this is my right."

He repeats his previous statement, his voice firmer this time. "I'm telling you to leave them to me." His insistence is firm.

I express my dislike, a hint of annoyance in my voice. "I hate when you do this." The statement carries frustration, the feeling of being controlled and dismissed seeping into my words.

He replies bluntly, his tone tinged with stubbornness. "I don't care." The words seem harsh, his indifference apparent in his firm response, as he dismisses my feelings and frustration.

Instead of engaging in further conversation, he reaches for the chocolates on his desk, breaking the tense air, and hands them to me.

I shift my attention to the window, noticing how the sky outside has transitioned to deep shades of darkness, a stark contrast to the daylight that was present earlier.

I accept the offer of chocolate, taking it from his hand, the sweet treat a temporary distraction from the heaviness and uncertainty of the previous exchange.

The voice within me repeats, "You're all alone, so stupid, stupid, stupid." The words echo in my mind like a mocking chant, a cruel reminder of my perceived isolation and foolishness.
The voice continues to plague my thoughts, growing more cruel and relentless in its verbal assault. It whispers, "useless, worthless, broken, pitiful."

I place the chocolate aside, laying down on the bed, trying to find some solace and perhaps some relief from the internal struggle and words echoing in my mind.

"What are you thinking about?" His voice cuts through the onslaught of negativity, a gentle murmur of inquiry filling the silence, trying to bring me back to him rather than the voice in my head.

I reply honestly, my voice tinged with a hint of bitterness, "Bad things." The admission comes with a weight on my chest, my mind filled with negativity and unwanted thoughts.

The struggle to sleep is evident as I express, "I can't fall asleep, but I want to." The turmoil in my mind keeps me awake, the longing for rest growing stronger despite the racing thoughts.

Dag approaches and lies down next to me on the bed, his presence offering a comfort, a silent reassurance in the midst of the internal battle.

I am uneasy, my tone tinged with confusion, "What are you doing?" I swallow, the uncertainty and vulnerability apparent in my voice as Dag settles in next to me on the bed.

He explains his exhaustion, "I'm tired. Shut up," his command is firm yet gentle, his eyes closing, signaling his intention to sleep.

Reluctantly, I close my eyes, mirroring his action, trying to find the respite of sleep, yet aware of the thoughts that still whirl within my mind.

The voice persists, "You're all alone." The words cut through any semblance of peace, reminding me of my isolation and loneliness.

Despite the words echoing in my mind, the weight of Dag's presence next to me is undeniable, a comforting reminder that I'm not truly alone.

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