They call me the false image, an alter ego.

They call me demon.

They call me dangerous.

The dark personality.

They treat me like a disease.


They are the demons, they're evil, they're the ones trying to kill me.

They're the ones not realising I'm alive. I'm not just a brain wave gone rogue..

I'm the original. He is the false image. He is fake. He is disease.

He is the one locking me in here, in this darkness where no glimmer of light comes through.

Where no sound breaks the silence.

Where there is no one to talk to but myself.

Literally, at that. I know he hears me when I call. He never answers.

This place is an unbreakable prison, unless my false image wavers.


I long for the day he falls. I long to put him in this place, keep him locked up for good, reclaim the life, body, time I rightfully own.

The life I protected while he cried and hid. He is the fake, I'm the original.

Go on, try to get rid of me, I dare you, second me.

Just try.. let's see who survives. Take pills, hypnosis, music, yes, go on, keep trying. It's been so many times you failed now.

Don't you realise it's pointless? There will be the day I overwhelm you. Maybe today? Maybe tomorrow? Any day you don't expect me, I will be there.

You're scared? Good, that's how it's supposed to be, you know. Tremble. Shiver yourself to sleep.

Whimper, knowing you might disappear anytime.

I dare you to let your guard down, just for a moment. I know when you're weak.

We both do.


That dream that keeps you awake at night..

I paint it with the memories you lost when you were young.

No, not lost. You threw them away like trash.

Oh, I know they're dark. I was the one keeping them when you tried to run away.

I took in the pain, sadness, grief, hatred in your stead.

I am the pain. The sadness. Your grief. Your hatred.

And I'm raging.


You're in danger, again.

More pain, fear, hatred filling your consciousness. I take it in, in your stead. Just.. half of it.

Sharp pain. Someone hit you and you're too much of a pushover to fight back.

Another hit, you struggle to stay on your feet. That's right, you can't even fight. You are too gentle, too kind.

I grab someone's hand; it's yours. You look afraid, I smile. People often describe my smile as predatory.

That's right, it's my turn now. You whisper my name, in our mind, begging me to stop. It's too late, you know.

You're already in your own mind. I take good care to lock the door behind me as we switch places.


Light. Fresh air. Finally free.

A few morons, trying to pick a fight, surrounding me.

Pain is like a friend, and thanks to you, I have a lot of friends right now. I crack my neck and go at them.

I'm not like them, or you. There is no mercy when my fist hits them. Breaks noses. Arms. Ribs. Spills their blood.

I am avoiding their strikes with ease, smirking at them, enraging them. Provoking them into making even more mistakes.

They don't know who they're messing with. They think I'm the same, silly fools.

I'm the original, don't forget this.


Once the fight is over, you try to regain your senses, a nasty ringing in my ears.

From deep inside, you push me back, I push harder; there's fear in you, I feel it.

That's right, fear the same darkness you forced me into. Stay there, enjoy it.

A loud noise disturbs my victory and I look up.

Someone stands a few meters from me, a gun in hand, aiming at me.

Another friend is born, blooming from a wound in my chest. Some officer, likely called in by scared witnesses.

Before I hit the ground, I smirk at the young man who, too, trembles in fear.

My friend paints the sidewalk a deep scarlet.

I never wanted to die this easily – or this way, for that matter.

It wasn't meant to be this way..


Someone's hand is touching my face.

Don't do that, I hate this.

Your name is whispered behind a wall of water in my ears.

I feel you stir. You won't get out, give up.

It must be her. That girl we both fell for.

The same girl I freed, twenty-one years ago. You don't remember this, do you?

She is crying now, her innocent hands pressing down on my wound. They will be quite red.

At least something of mine on her body before I die.

The air tastes like blood. I try to speak, but all I manage is a pitiful cough.


Sirens penetrate the wall of deafness, even with closed eyes I can see blue-red light, flickering.

So annoying.

Make it stop, would you?

You do. Or maybe I did; the lights disappear.

The noise.

Her crying.

All fades to black.


A nasty beeping sound.

The scent turned from blood to .. much too clean. Disgusting.

My eyes won't open, lids heavy as lead.

A sniff next to me, a warm hand touching mine.

"Se Gi..", she whispers. "Do Hyun.. Either.."

So she's still not clear about it. Damn it. Damn it all.

Like a curse, my old habit comes through, tapping all fingers of one hand, one after another.

The beeping steps up in response to my anger. A cute gasp.

"Are you awake?!"

Her hand grasps mine so tight it almost hurts.

I manage a grunt in response. So tired.. getting angry is .. tiring.

My old friend is there again. Picking on my wound. Something warm and wet covering my skin.

She's calling out in alarm and runs away. Why? It's just a little blood..

Her missing hand leaves my own cooling.


You are there, I know you are.

Just lurking, waiting to take over. If I could open my eyes, you'd stand in a dark corner.

I'm weak, now would be your chance.

When she called your name, you almost slipped out. I kept you back.

How I wished someone would put you to sleep forever..

I found this girl first, I know her better than you, longer.

You threw her away with these dark memories of yours.

I saved her countless times.

You almost got us killed.

How dare you taking my woman for yourself, you bastard?

Stay there, stay in the dark.

It's not your time to be.

Not your place to be.

This body is mine now, even if I die.


The male doctor seems worried.

My girl is crying, he is talking softly.

"I was afraid this would happen.. hm.. if the vein is damaged so badly it ruptures from minimum stress, we may need to operate after all. He's fine for now, yes.. as long as we're well equipped with blood conserves."

Well done, doctor, now she's crying openly. Louder.

How I wish to strangle him for hurting my girl. Just a little, vice-like grip on his overgrown throat..

But I can't even lift my hand. So weak, I hate it.

Is it going to stay this way?

Will I end like my old man, bound to a bed for the rest of my life?

Doctor leaves, my woman is at my side again, her hands taking mine. Hers are warm, a stark contrast to mine.

"You.. you need to calm down, hear me?", she tells me, trying to sound convincing. Failing. "Re-remember rule 1? Let's just.. extend it, alright? Never get angry.. at all. Not even a bit! It will kill you if you do."

Is that even possible? A sense of dejavu hits me, I almost want to laugh.

There's not even enough energy left for a smirk. Pathetic.

So tired..

Like a sweet lullaby she whispers my name before I succumb to sleep once more.