You Are not alone

V and end

"Blue. Red. Still Blue"
And he ended.
He let his arms fall along his body, clutching his precious instruments in his hands.
He didn't even know how he found these pencils. Perhaps they had always been there, maybe not ... The memories were becoming blurred. He sometimes forgot his name.
But not them. He couldn't forget them. And it was not for lack of trying.
Formerly, he wanted as not to see them, not hear them. And now ... and now he felt empty. So lonely.
The world was too silent, without the voices in his head. He would have given anything to hear them again.
Yes even when they prevented it to revise or look normal!
He had got used to their presence, to love him. Yes, he loved them , his double personalities.
They were a part of him, and he was a part of them. The piece of a puzzle that would never be complete.
He reached out to the wall, without daring to put his palm. These drawings he had done on that wall so white ... it's as if they were there. Like before.
They looked at him, their eyes drawn, empty and without lives.
The doctors told him they did not exist. They were not real. He had invented them ... for that he had drugged ... but he had left to do this time ... and he regretted.
He couldn't believe it. He couldn't ! He couldn't be just ... crazy. He was right and they were wrong.
So why ? Why his personalities were not returned?
And whether his doubles wanted him of trying to silence them? And if they don't just want to come back?
He closed his eyes. Tears threatened to fall of. He never would. Not alone. Not without them.
He pressed his forehead against the wall, eyes still closed. But that no longer prevented her tears sliding down her cheeks.
-Please ... I'm sorry. Come back ...
But only silence answered him. This silence, cold and cruel, whom he knew since ... since when? Weeks, months? He no longer had any sense of time.
In this asylum ... This fucking asylum. It was the place that made him mad! They even prevented him from playing an instrument ...
Under the anger, he clenched his fist and struck the wall. He wept, this time from pain and fell.
Kneeling, near the pencils to the ground that he had abandoned, he buried his face in his hands.
It was too hard, too ... he couldn't stand it. This silence, drugs, loneliness, doubts, mental torture. He wanted to end it.
Following his black thoughts, he dropped his hands and looked quite sharp pencil. But he stopped in his action, observing the state of his hands were covered with colors.
Such pretty colors ... so ... alive. So different from the pristine white of his tunic.
He laughed. A laugh of joy. Or madness.
The doctors wanted to handle him ! It was what they wanted him to do! But he wouldn't fall into the trap. Because he knew it.
His personalities were still there. They would always be there. Until he die !
He is white, they are the color.
He looked at a picture hanging near his drawing.
- Eric! You make parties of the stars, you can't grow up now! YOU ARE FREE !