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Those of Another
Written and translated by Ninefifteen
(Him.)
The only thing I can say is that this room is really small, bare, with white walls. The only piece of furniture lying around is a stiff bench where I do everything – sleep, eat… think.
There is a glass door – it is always locked – and behind it, a bare white corridor. My thoughts – or what is left of them – have nothing to hang on to, and there is nothing to give me a clue to understand my situation.
I was barely conscious the first time I entered this room. I had no reaction and didn’t understand anything about what was happening. I couldn’t resist the people surrounding me, taking me here and there, as they pleased. Then I slowly emerged from drowsiness and realized I knew nothing. Nothing about my surroundings. Nothing about the people I had caught a glimpse of earlier. And worse, I knew nothing about myself. I had an awful headache. Continue reading