The madness. The raging, beating, madness, it’s wrath was furious within the doctor. It was all so much worse than usual, thanks to the vector arrow that had been injected within his body. It kept the insanity tied to him, allowing him no escape, even going so far as to strengthen it.
Stein was aware that something was wrong, yes. He was convinced that he was broken, as though he were some kind of technology. A broken radio.
But he had always thought so.
The tall doctor’s hand had been paused over the screw that was stuck through his head. He’d been turning it mere seconds before, trying to help himself think, but it did nothing. His hands shook too badly for him to concentrate, anyway.
With a bang, he slammed his hand down onto the desk, as though he were angry, but rather than having an expression of fury, his arched back quivered with silent laughter, his other hand going to his face, fingers running through his pale, grey hair, tousling it more as the laugh became more and more audible. From the palm of his that lay on the desk dripped blood. He’d been carving at his own skin again, stitching more, but he hadn’t even gotten close to finishing this time. The cuts was deep, close to showing the bones in his hand, but he didn’t feel it — that is, if he did feel it, he enjoyed the pain.
What a joke… and Death thought Stein was on his side! How boring. How dull. It was all too slow for him, too tiring. Medusa truly provided excitement to his life, even in the tiresome academy that everyone kept claiming was so unique, so special.
And as his bout of laughter calmed and quieted, the doctor slumped back over in his chair, the computer at his desk flickering, its screen showing eyes every now and then as he put his face in his hands, going silent once more, blood streaking from one hand to his cheek and forehead.
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