He'd always thought nothing was scarier than people. People speaking in loud voices, people laughing for no reason, people walking too fast, too slow, smiling, happy, noisy, the stench of their bodies alive pressed together in crowds. People looking at him. Seeing him. Thinking secret things deep inside the grey mush of their brains.
Nothing was scarier than the unknown. And nothing was more unknowable than that heap of lives – breath and sweat – consciences – the others.
He's changed his mind now. He'd give everything, anything, for another human presence. A voice. Another fear matching his own.
He said he'd come back. But he won't. The old man has found him and killed him. Adam knows it and his eyes are filled with tears – that's right, he's facing an endless, painful agony, infection and dehydration in a dark room with the slowly rotting body of a man he has killed, but he's still able to cry – in the midst of panic and terror – he's still able to cry over somebody else.
And be ashamed of it, too.
Lawrence was so pale when he left. So pale. Adam cringes at the pain in his shoulder, but he doesn't care anymore. His own pain is nothing.
He was so pale when he left.
The little girl in the pictures… no-one will mourn him – his own pain is nothing – but Lawrence, Lawrence. They will all cry so much. Ache so much.
He was so pale when he left. So pale when Adam clung to him, fingers red and slippery, and said it all – don't leave me, when he begged him, I need you, I need you…
It wasn't only panic.
It really seemed as though he couldn't go on living without the doctor's deep, calm voice, without the doctor's cool-blooded thinking, without the doctor's reassuring, reasonnable sentences, even without his arrogant impatience – I'm dealing with a juvenile.
The doctor's sad eyes.
He's dead now, lying dead somewhere outside the room, but still inside the building. Lying in the dark as well – don't keep me in the dark
Don't… his voice.
Don't keep me in the dark about what you're thinking.
Adam chokes on a sob. Thinks he sounds like a child. It's not the first time, either. We gonna be okay? What kind of self-respecting adult wails that sort of question to another grown-up?
When have you ever been a self-respecting adult?
How can his "I loathe myself" voice still be nagging him, even now? Now that he's about to die?
Adam moves. Searing pain, all through his arm now. Oh, but the pain is nothing. It's time that frightens him the most. He's stopped screaming hours ago. The clock is ticking. Slowly.
Dr. Lawrence Gordon. Adam still has a little bit of him. Still has a piece of his body, here with him. They'll decay together, all together. Once he's dead, Adam won't be alone anymore. Just has to wait for his time to come.
He hopes he won't start cursing Lawrence before the end arrives. Curse him for wounding him instead of aiming for his heart. What were you thinking? You really thought you'd come back?
He lets out an empty laugh. The sound startles him. And something red – a red spot in the dark – catches his eye.
The video camera.
The camera's still rolling.