Page 36 of Lolli-Gag
“You’re doing great.” Nothing.
“You always know what to say.” Nothing.
“You’re in control.” Nothing. My fingers twitch. That's new. I don’t twitch. I don’t—I stop moving and listen, leaning in. There has to be something. A hum, a breath, a whisper just under the surface. Nothing.
Silence presses in. Not around me, but inside me, causing me to laugh.
“Is that it?” I say, and the words vanish. “Is this what you think breaks me?” Still nothing. My smile flickers, just once, and I catch it in the mirror. Wrong. I step closer and my reflection mirrors again. My eyes narrow as I really look at myself.
“You’re not me,” I whisper as it stares back, standing still with an empty face. Like something is wearing my skin and forgot how to use it. Silence continues to stretch, and suddenly, I feel it. Not sound but absence. Where they should be. Where they always are. The voices.
My chest tightens, just slightly. “Enough!” I growl, and still nothing. “Answer me,” I command, but yet again, nothing. “Fucking say something, anything!” I yell, throwing my hands up.
Instead words echo in my head.
Say something.
Say something.
Say something.
But not in their voices. Mine. Only mine. It’s wrong, its all fucking wrong. I step back, taking a deep breath, and running my hands through my white hair. The room doesn’t change. It doesn’t see me. Nor does it care. The realization of that hits slowly, then all at once. There’s no one here to listen. No one toinfluence. Not a single soul to guide or someone to choose me. My throat tightens, and I laugh again, only louder this time, but it comes out empty. “You think I need an audience?” I ask the room, but the room doesn’t answer, because it doesn’t exist for me. It just holds me like a jar—like something contained.
My hands press against my temples. “Talk,” I whisper. “Talk to me,” I beg, but the silence grows teeth, biting me, pulling at my flesh, and ripping something I don’t want to be seen.
“You’re nothing without us.” The voice comes suddenly. Not on the outside but within. I freeze, then smile, but it falls at the realization that it wasn’t them. It was me.
“No,” I whisper.
“You don’t control anything.” Again, my voice but not my words. I stagger back as the mirror flickers. My reflection smiles wide—too wide.
“She didn’t choose you,” it says, and those words hit me like a ton of bricks straight to the chest. The room tilts as I try to catch my breath.
“No,” I say, and it laughs.
“She did.” Didn’t she? The silence answers with nothing but everything all at once. I step forward, grabbing the mirror. My fingers drag across the cold, unreal surface.
“You don’t get to say that,” I hiss as the reflection tilts its head, just like she does. Mocking me. “You don’t get to decide anything,” I say, the words spilling out faster now. “You don’t get to take that from me,” I growl as the silence presses in, “You don’t get to take them from me!” I roar as my chest heaves.
That’s what this is. Not punishment. Not control—they took the voices from me. They took the feedback—the one thing that makes everything—clear. Because without it, everything blurs—slips and feels uncertain. I laugh again but it breaks halfway through. I don’t know what to say next ,and there’s no one hereto tell me. The silence leans in closer and closer until it feels like it's breathing against my skin.
“…say something,” I whisper, but nothing does. I stare at myself, or what’s left of me. My smile doesn’t come back. Without them—the voices—the audience, I don’t know if I’m still the one in control, and that might be worse than anything else.
I spent hours that feel like days in this room staring at myself. The smile doesn’t come back. I try. I tilt the mouth. Relax the eyes, just letting it sit like it belongs there, but nothing. Everything feels wrong. My reflection stares back, empty and unconvincing. I hate him.
“You don’t need them. Fuck ‘em. I just want her,” I say and let the words hang. I need out of here. This room is like a cage without bars and all it’s doing is starving my mind. My hands drag along the wall, searching for seams, for flaws, for anything I can exploit but nothing. Just smooth and perfect. Killian would like this room. I. on the other hand want fucking out of here.
“Open,” I growl. Nothing. “Open the door,” I command, tightening my jaw. I just want to get to her. Where is she? Is she okay? Did they hurt her? My hands curl into fists as her name leaves my lips.
“Lolli—my giggling goddess. Where are you?” I sing. but her name disappears like everything else. “You don’t get to take her out of this room,” I growl. “You can’t take her from me,” I spit then slam my palms against the wall. Once, twice, and again but the sound doesn’t echo. They feel it though, the vibration—the resistance. There’s something there. My eyes flick to the camera.
“I know you hear me,” I growl. “You want me to break. You wanted to see what happens when I lose control?” I tilt my head and smirk. “Then watch closely.” And I slam my face into the mirror over and over and over again until it cracks, and I keep going until the mirror splinters and I see my reflection a hundred times over with different expressions written over myface, but the one thing that remains the same is… blood. So much fucking blood. My vision blurs but I don’t care.
“You took the voices.” Slam.
“You took her.” Slam. I step back as my eyes darken and tiny shards of glass sting my nose and forehead with every movement.
“You left me with something better,” I yell, slamming my face again, only harder this time, causing the mirror to splinter more as the room begins to spin, but all I can see is Lolli. The way she looked at me. The way she listened. The way she chose me. It was real. She is fucking real. “I’m coming, baby. One way or another. I’m fucking coming,” I whisper as I fall to my knees and my face collides with the floor, sending me into nothing but darkness.
