It’s been days, months, perhaps even years since E has been in the hospital. He cannot remember the last time he placed a foot outside hospital grounds. What may actually be a couple years, seem like an eternity to him. But no one can tell him exactly how long has passed- no one knows exactly since when he was admitted in anymore. He sees nurses come and go; talk about trivial things and about patients’ conditions, he sees everyone around him move, but for him, it’s like he’s stuck in a place where time doesn’t move.
It’s not until a roommate of him comments on the lack of mirrors that he realizes it’s been a long time since he last saw himself. E then searches for a mirror, not to see how he looks, because he already knows his left arm and leg are now metallic, but just because of the curiosity a simple act like that brings. What he sees, looking back at him, shakes him more than what it should- E shouldn’t be as surprised, he already knows how deformed he is, he already knows, and yet, why is he so scared of his own reflection? Why is he so scared of the way those eyes stare back it him?
This can’t be him.
Is it?
.