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Wifies wasn't sure how long it had been since he died on Unstable. After that had happened, he'd returned to his home server, the one where all his escape rooms were. The one where he'd been created, and then killed his creator.
It was the only place he could go. He'd been living on Unstable for a year, and before then he'd just been here. He didn't want to join any new servers, didn't want to see anyone at all. He also wasn't very fond of being alone with his thoughts, but it was the better of the two options.
He laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to fall asleep despite the pounding headache that invaded his entire skull and the loud ringing that plagued his ears. The ringing quickly turned into unintelligible whispers, which then started to make up coherent sentences in an all too familiar voice he longed to hear again but was also too scared to listen to what it had to say.
He shut his eyes tightly, hoping the whispering would go away but it just kept getting louder and louder. He sat up in his bed, borderline hyperventilating, trying to find a way to make it stop.
In desperation, without thinking it through, he smashed the back of his head against the wooden wall of the house he'd made himself from spare blocks he found in the many escape rooms the other clones he had done. He did it again and again, not registering that the whispering had long stopped until he was out of breath from the most physically taxing task he'd done since he came back here.
He stared at the opposite wall, trying process what he'd just done until he felt a liquid flowing down his neck. He shivered at the feeling despite the droplet being quite warm. His hand reached back to where his head had made contact with the wall and he was met with red.
A sigh escaped him as he tried to take his mind off of the situation, deciding that ignoring it would be best. He laid back down, not caring that his pillow would be stained with his synthetic blood. Despite the worsened headache from the abuse to his poor skull, his exhaustion caught up to him and he fell asleep.
When he woke up it was night again. He didn't care to find out how long it had been. He felt severely weaker and realised the wound in the back of his head, though mostly closed, was still leaking blood in some spots, and was probably infected considering he hadn't washed it at all. He took a deep breath and exited his house, going to the edge of the deepest room he could find. After a moment's hesitation, he jumped down. The fall wasn't enough to kill him instantly, but he could endure the few seconds of excrutiating pain. It barely even felt real.
He woke up back in his bed, injuries cleared. It felt weird to be able to respawn after death. He'd gotten so used to Unstable.
After this, the whispers became a common occurrence. Parrot's voice got louder and clearer every time, saying things he'd never truly say, but it felt so real. Realer than anything in this server.
The only way he'd found to stop it was bashing his head against the wall, covering his house in blood stains, indents and even small pieces of metal from the times he went overboard. He was sure he'd partly damaged his motherboard at least once. He hated doing this. Hated knowing what it was called and what it meant. But what else could he do?
He'd occasionally imagined what Parrot would say if he found him like this. He wasn't sure how Parrot felt about him by now. After everything. A few times, he let himself daydream of Parrot coming to find him, having forgotten everything Wifies had done as the Director. He'd imagine Parrot finding him like this and nursing him back to health, helping him in every way possible. Then reality came crashing down on him as he remembered his actual situation.
He wasn't sure what compelled him to walk back to where the factory used to be. All that remained of it was chests filled with the blocks that once made it up. He remembered the day they'd cleared it out. Himself, Ken and Wato. He wondered what they thought of him now. Parrot had probably told them about everything he'd done.
He opened the chests. He swore he'd never use those blocks for anything, but this was different. He just needed some glass, something he couldn't collect from any of the escape rooms. He took a couple stacks he didn't need this many and walked back to his house.
Once there, in the only place that brought him the littlest bit of comfort, he finally did what he'd been dreading to do, not scared of the act itself, but of how it'd make him feel. He took one of the glass panes and smashed it in his hand, ignoring the way it stuck to his flesh. He grabbed the biggest shard and took a deep breath before he brought it to his forearm, cutting a shallow line into it. The pain was sharp, but it felt like a mere scratch compared to what he'd been doing. He cut again, deeper this time. He reached the end of his muscle and touched the robotic endoskeleton inside him. He continued, mind in a haze, not registering anything anymore until he woke up once again, all wounds gone without leaving a scar.
He continued this action a few more times until a thought popped in his head. An idea that, had he been even slightly more mentally stable he would've never considered doing, despite the pull in his chest. But, alas.
He got out of his bed yet again and reached for the shard. Before stabbing it into his abused forearm again, he went to his infinite water source, grabbed a bucket from the chest of items he'd managed to smuggle out of the escape rooms and grabbed some water with it. He needed it to be known. This was intentional. This would stay.
He grabbed the shard again and didn't think twice before making the first cut, a thin, vertical line. He then dragged the shard into a semi circle attached to the upper half of the line. The next shape was a diagonal line, glued to another diagonal, forming a baseless triangle. Then a horizontal line cutting across the shape.
He continued on until every letter was carved deep into his arm, spelling out "PARROTX2". He stared at the bloody mess, text barely recognisable with how much was pouring out. That was fine. He dipped his arm into the bucket, thankful he'd remembered to use it as to not taint his water source.
It took a few minutes, but the bleeding finally slowed down enough for Wifies to be satisfied. He took the shard and stabbed it into his gut, a small smile plastered on his face as he bled out.
Once he woke up again, the stab wound was gone, but, just as he'd hoped for, "PARROTX2" was still carved deep into his arm.