Hello, Elizabeth. Or should I say… hello to the voices that aren’t really there? The ones who whisper that the walls are bleeding. That the doctors are liars. That your mother never loved you and the shadows under your bed are coming to swallow what’s left of your mind.
I want to play a game.
For years, you’ve let the illness win. You’ve swallowed pills and took drugs that taste like surrender. You’ve hidden in locked wards and delusions while the world moved on without you. You’ve screamed at people who only wanted to help… because the voices told you they were demons wearing human skin.
But here’s the truth they never say out loud: schizophrenia doesn’t just take your mind. It takes your will to fight.
The device on your head is simple. A bubble of rusted thoughts, wired to a timer. In time, the jaws will close. Slowly. Until the points pierce your skull and give the voices a permanent home inside your brain.
There’s only one key. It’s locked inside that part of your mind you disregard. The part that drifted away from the pills and drugs you’ve failed to flush down the toilet a hundred times.
To heal, you’ll have to crawl through the tunnel in front of you. A narrow, filthy shaft lined with broken mirrors. Every shard reflects a different version of you: the girl who experienced happy times; the woman who used to laugh without fear; the monster the voices say you’ve always been.
As you crawl, the mirrors will speak. They’ll tell you to give up. That the pills or drugs are the way to cope with pain. That reality is the real trap, and madness is freedom.
Some of what they say will be the illness lying. Some of it will be the truth you’ve been running from. You’ll have to decide, inch by agonizing inch…which voice is real.
Seek help or carry on your delusion. Live or die. Prospect or decay. Make your choice.
But please seek help.
Tick-tock, Elizabeth. The game has already started. The choice is yours.
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