Chapter Text
Mono made gentle clicking sounds with his tongue as he kicked his legs in time with the clicks. His head swayed in time too, as his hands rested on the wooden chair. Time had been odd of late. Or at least, he’d been noticing it. There was no way to judge time, as the sun didn’t shine down here, and any clocks that were conjured never ticked. But his feet seemed to be closer to the floor than he remembered. Not that his memory was all that reliable. Then again, he was pretty sure that his head didn’t use to reach the top of the back of the chair. Right? A similar thought crossed his mind… a while ago now. He wasn’t sure when, but it must have been a while ago because the memory was fussy. But he could have sworn back then, that the chair seemed a little smaller.
The walls made gurgling sounds at him, reminding him, yet again, what the walls were really made of. The Flesh behind the walls talked to him in a way he both did and didn’t understand. He knew what the Flesh meant when they ‘talked’, but he did his best to ignore them. The walls had talked so many times it had become second nature to ignore it.
Was the chair getting smaller, or was he getting bigger? How long had it been? A day; an hour; a decade? He didn’t know. And he didn’t really care. All he really knew was that he’d been here longer than sixty seconds. He remembered counting and one point. Or was that just his imagination?
The room hadn’t changed at least. Hard floor, covered in cracks and a little raised in places. That singular dark pink light above him. Had it become more intense? Again, he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t be sure of anything. Ever since he fell… No… ever since he was dropped!
He gripped the edges of the chair tightly. The joints in his hands clicked and groaned, the tighter he squeezed the wooden.
That girl. That little…!
The Flesh gurgled around him, and he forced himself to take a breath. The Flesh always gets a little excited when he let his rage consume him. But the anger never went away. That look on her face when she ripped her arm out of his grip. How she just walked away as if no one was ever there. Not an ounce of regret or sadness on her face.
She meant was she did. She wanted him to fall. But he could only guess why. And he had guesses. It could have been when he smashed the giant music box that the Tower created for her; to coax her into feeling safe and to stay probably. Or when he freed the Thin Man and six was taken. He remembered her scream as she was taken, and her desperate attempts to get him to run just before it crawled out the screen. Mono couldn’t have possibly known what was behind that door. All that he knew what that he must open in… why did he even want to open it? At the time he thought it was some kind of salvation. An end to the suffering and fear. Somewhere safe or something that could help. He’d always gotten frustrated at the girl every time she dragged him out the screen before he could reach the door. But now… he knew it was for the best.
Maybe everything he’d done up until that point was wrong and getting caught was the last straw. He couldn’t fault her for being mad, But this… sacrificing him to the tower -to the Flesh- was too far. Forcing him to spend the rest of his life at the bottom of The Transmission. A fate worse than death.
But there was nothing he could do about it. There’s nothing he could ever do about it, ever. Because he was condemned to this stupid wooden chair, in this bloody, cracked, boring, pink-lit, hidden flesh, false reality, worn, inescapable roo-
CRACK!
“Hm?”
Mono looked at where the sound had come from. It was over to his left, and he saw that the ground had split a little, and a fuzzy light was emanating from below.
“Hmm.”
He gingerly slipped off the chair, and regretted it instantly. All his joints, creaked, groaned, and clicked; and trying to stand caused him so much pain, that he just collapsed. He whimpered and tried to push himself up, but it hurt so much. He knew that he hadn’t moved it in a while, but he never imagined that it would have hurt this much. He couldn't seem to find the strength the stand, so he just dragged himself towards the open crack. His bones groaned, and his joints clicked and ached, but he pushed forward and pushed harder until he finally reached the edge of the split.
His disappointment was immeasurable when he peered over the edge and only saw static. But at least there was something that broke up the monotony of his tiring existence.
He casually reached out to feel the static and was greeted with a familiar fuzzy sensation, that he was used to feeling when he went through televisions. He pushed his hand deeper, and was surprised to find his hand hitting something solid but thin, like… glass?
He twisted his body a little and pressed both his hands against the surface below the static. The Flesh around him started to gurgle, and the split started slowly shrinking. Despite his aching muscles, Mono slammed his hands through the static and felt the surface give, and is quickly dragged through. He’s sent flying through the static and hears the sound of shattering glass, an electric spark and the sound of a fuse blowing. When he finally manages to will his eyes open, he finds himself is a simple room, with a bookcase, a chair, and a rug. But most importantly, he sees before him, a television; with a broken screen, and the pieces scattered around him.
After a few minutes of staring that the broken television set, Mono let out a hoarse groan; the first time he’d opened his mouth in a very, very long time.
There’s a thud, as he goes limp on the rug, and passes out. A sleep, that’s years overdue.