The mirrors reverberate as if to react to the rising panic.

Obtuse time passes in an indistinct manner, and the accumulated and accumulating frenzy is cold and wet so close beneath the surface, churning through my arms and chest. I breath in, and can't recall if I'm really in the place I was four hours before I awoke or the place I was suppose to be an hour after I awoke. Either way, all I can think of is the place that exists exactly eight hours forward from now. But really, what's the point in trying to find the empty space that lies forward when I don't know what up or down is?

Obtrusive thoughts of paranoid despair choke their way in through the cracks. Water and smoke fill my lungs and dance together, and all I can do is twitch. I stretch forward toward something I can only taste.

I suppose...all I've ever wanted to do was run away. It's absurd to think that a reprieve from an undesired origin into the arms of a perfect, synthetic genesis would relieve me from the anxious insect crawlings...yet it is a relief I seek. And so I clutch onto it like a coin underneath my tongue. Really, isn't that what everyone does?

He disappears into a hole in the wall behind me, and I watch him as he does. I turn around to another hole and do the same.

Destroy Once Done