FSE

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I don't remember how long it's been since I found it.

Lying there, abandoned and forgotten in some old farmhouse just as abandoned and forgotten as it was. Cold and lonely, forsaken and isolated. I picked it up, thinking it would make a nice trophy. Oh, but how I was unaware of how much this mask would mean to me...how much it could mean to anyone. I held it close as I left that place, crossed the field and forest back to where I had lived before. I don't remember much of it now, I don't remember much of anything before the mask.

The mask, the mask, the_ mask _. Such a close friend to me in the low times. It was an old World War 2 gas mask, its lenses scratched and fittings old, but the rubber was new; almost as if it was fresh from some wartime factory. It felt light in my bag, so much so that I had forgotten about its existence! How sad I feel to have forgotten such a close friend. Not anymore. No, no, never anymore.

What, you want to know about me? About before, during, and after? Why would you ever want to know...oh. I see. You're one of them, one of those that asks questions and takes notes and nods at your little sheets of paper. Fine. I'll heed your questioning.

The mask found me in an abandoned farmhouse, I told you that. Where? I don't know, it was about a half an hour from my house if I walked quickly. I remember I passed the school and the grocery store before I had to go through the forest. No, I told you I don't know where it is! Why would I remember that now? It doesn't matter. Yes, yes, you say it does matter. And I am not attempting to fight you. I do not remember. Later on I heard it speak to me, and I-

It. The mask. It said it could help me. I was sick before, you should know that with all your prying and snooping and digging. Sick, sick, very sick. With what? I don't know. Nobody ever told me. Just a lot of sadness and wringing of hands. But I put on the mask and felt better...so much better. But worse. It means well, but it cannot do everything. It needs things, things from me. And I can't always give it. And when I can't give it...it gets upset.

Upset how? It hurts me. Often. You saw me bleed when you brought me in. And everything it fixes it changes. You see how much I have changed since you brought me in here. What? Remove it? Why would I ever do that? No. I will not, not even for your alleged testing. Shoot me, for all I care! It won't kill me! It will fix everything before you have time to pull the trigger again.

Touch me and die.

Touch me and die.

_ Touch me and die _.

-<FILE BEGIN>-

ITEM #289

CLASS: LETHAL 3

SUBCLASSES: SAPIENT, INTELLIGENT, PARASITIC

-<FILE END>-

"Now you see why we have you here?" Said the doctor, a black-furred feline with severe facial features and a continually stern look. "I know you don't like the containment measures right now, but this was only a year ago." He watched me carefully as the tape ended, taking his eyes off me for only an instant to eject it from the player.

"You should know how much I've changed." I said, a slightly resentful tone sneaking into my voice. "All the therapy and sessions with Dr. Briner were supposed to help."

"And it has. But that tape is what is on the forefront of the administrators' mind." The doctor sat back, frowning and shaking his head. "They still see you as a serious threat." There wasn't much I could say to that, instead averting my eyes and staring at the tape resting on the desk. It was recorded in the first few weeks I had been brought here, shortly after I had found the mask. I had become almost obsessed, nearly dependent on it; I found myself touching it as the doctor went on about something unimportant.

At this point, there was nothing we could do about the mask. The initial attempts the doctors made to remove it ended up in my first outburst, and after that I would not let anyone get close enough to help. Now, I wanted help. Now, I couldn't get it. I have a parasite attached to my face and now there's nothing I can do about it. I felt myself getting pissed off again, but I took a deep breath before it could escalate too far.

"Are you even listening?" The doctor said, gently rapping the desk and making me jump. "This is one of the things I'm talking about."

"What, not listening to you when you go on and on about how I'm a dangerous animal that needs to be kept in his cage?" Okay, well, maybe it escalated a little further than I thought.

"No, that's not it." He sighed, shaking his head and sitting back in his chair. "The reason the Institute exists is bifold. First off, we're here to _protect_you, not entrap you. And we exist to protect the public, as well. Look at yourself. Imagine how people would react if they saw you on the street." He had a point. The mask's manipulations had left me...far from human at this stage. "And you can't even motivate yourself to dress like a human being. If you were more human, perhaps, we would have a chance at reintegrating y-"

"Fuck off." I snapped, baring my teeth from behind the mask. "I don't want to be put back into your stupid fucking society!" Shit. Shit shit shit. I shook my head and held it, trying to mentally separate myself from the mask. If you get angry, it gets furious. Everything you feel it multiplies by ten. Stop it, Ivan. "I'm sorry."

"I understand." The doctor said, sighing once more and gathering his papers up. "Just know. We're aware you want to be placed on a team, but in your current state we can't allow it."

There wasn't much more to say after that. The doctor declared the session over, and the guards that had been lingering near the door stepped forward and manacled me again. Arms and legs, as usual. I guessed they wanted to stop me from running away, or doing what I did to Dr. Itoshi. I can't blame them.