Sitting in his favorite leather chair, in his study, Mr. Dufrain examined his subjects carefully, shutting his eyes in concentration as he hovered above them in the young girl’s body. The young boy was trapped in a black void, completely without sound, light, companionship or food, yet he did nothing. His reactions were quite unlike the others’. Almost from the time he’d been dropped off, he’d just paced, sat or slept. He didn’t scream, he didn’t cry… he just looked blank. (Little did Mr. Dufrain know that Sukita was always blank). The boy never once complained, even as his stomach growled for its nourishment. After two days, the man had finally just sent bread to the boy. He’d watched as the boy ate it calmly and then started playing with his shoelaces like they were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

"Very strange," he muttered to himself as he floated to the next dimension of his laboratory.

There, sitting on a laundry pile was a petite girl half singing, half crying her eyes out and tearing up one of the random shirts he’d thrown in the imaginary mound. Now there was the response he’d expected. Loneliness caused a lot of emotions to stir up in people, and unlike the boy, this girl was letting it out. He winced. She was getting it out a lot. Stopping the song, or maybe she’d finished, he wasn’t really paying attention, he watched her as she sat and cried loudly and powerfully. He couldn’t suppress the smirk that formed at his lips. Now this, he enjoyed. He watched her for another few moments before finally tiring and moving on.

Barely having to concentrate to move on to the next girl, he phased into the field invisibly, watching the girl transcend through multiple stages of panic. She’d yelled and screamed already, then she’d sat, staring out blankly, then walked, trying to find her way out of his trap. …But then something else had fascinated him about her. She’s woken up and started speaking. Asking questions to no one, yelling out panicked screams that demanded recognition, she grew more and more hysterical.

Yes… he’d have fun with this one- both of the girls, in fact, he thought. They were more like his own slave, anyway. The boy was no fun, but still, his carelessness was intriguing. Surely he’s crack soon. It was impossible not to.

Drawing his consciousness back out of the apparition’s spirit, he sat up in his chair and held his head. It was still so tiring for him. He’d fix that, soon enough, though. Getting out of his chair, he went to the kitchen for some Black Root tea.

Back to Writings