This part, unlike the previous one, is written in the third person. Someday I will make it all uniform and combine it into a story, but for now it is just a few short passages.
TW/CW: veiled reference to self-harm, insects
Lis lay in the dark, staring at the cracks in the wall, pulling the blanket tightly around himself to keep the cold fingers of the world from reaching his vulnerable body (which was his greatest fear). Or rather, there was only one crack, but it was surrounded by a web of small black threads, like the legs of a spider, making it appear as if there were many cracks. The more Lis stared at it, the more menacing it became: the spider-crack seemed to grow, distort, and press against him.
She was showing him a map of the scars on his body, each eerie curve mirroring the others. So they had noticed them: the bathroom should also be checked for cameras. But he would do that in the morning; he couldn't enter the tall rectangle of darkness at night, lest something wet and sticky touch his feet, gradually spreading across his body, wanting to drown him, to make him a part of this eerie, musty room. He had always been afraid of this place, but that wasn't the point. The fear was more real now.
What if... He wanted to dismiss the thought immediately: the crack exuded a sense of genuine danger. It was, in a way, alluring, drawing him in like a black hole, an irresistible force that he couldn't help but resist, but he didn't want to touch it for fear of what might happen. However, there was no denying the possibility that every inch of the cold concrete beneath the wallpaper was dotted with microscopic cameras. All he could do was thwart their efforts, as they already knew that he was aware of their surveillance. And I know that you know, and you know that I know.... They turned on the radio to stop him from thinking. How clever.
Once Lis moved, there was no turning back. His hand was drawn to those dangerous curves, which felt as cold as if he were stroking a block of ice. There was nothing to feel: the cameras were small and flat. They wanted him to look, and who was he to resist?
He carefully peels off a small piece of wallpaper that's blocking his view, and a sharp pain shoots through his entire arm. Lis immediately pulls his hand back and sees small black bugs hiding behind the wallpaper falling onto his bed. He tries to catch them before they spread further, but the bugs are smarter than he thought. The artificial and possibly long-dead insects immediately turn into red spots on the sheets. They crawl along his knees and fingers in red trails, and Lis barely manages to hold back a scream. Now he knows that his walls are infested with insects. He begins to tear off the paper in quick, jerky motions, not allowing himself to stop so that he doesn't have time to be afraid, but God, it's still difficult to convince yourself that you don't feel hundreds of small legs touching your skin.
The crack is now dirty and wet. Everything around it is dying, and he must remember to write this down in his notebook. A wire emerges from the increasingly large hole. So it is indeed a bug. The only option that comes to Lis's mind is to try to pull it out (it can't be infinite, right?), and he acts without hesitation, trying not to think. The pain is already piercing his head. His vision is starting to darken. That's right. How could he have thought that they would let him do this so easily? Lis begins to pull even faster and harder, but these evil creatures, who have been terrorizing him just because he noticed them once, take control of his body and forcefully shut him down. His nose is pressed against the wet sheet, and he can't breathe, but he can't move because the cold has seeped into his limbs and frozen them from the inside.
The pain throbs as if insects have crawled under his skin. Soon they will reach his brain, and that will be the end. They will hear with his ears, speak with his mouth, and see with his eyes.
A curious eye out from the crack.
