Every time i hear a footstep there is a small cracking noise on my ceiling. The roof is very fragile. It's a miracle this building is still kept alive. We keep living here. A horde of underpaid employees, simple workers that do menial labour, NEETs and some university students. Or people like me. University students. And much more so. A hikikomori. I haven't found the resolve to go outside. My family told me to enjoy the good weather, catch some sunlight. It has been months since my mother last called. I stopped counting the days. Moreover I also have some university tasks I have to complete. Sometimes I found the courage to leave the house. I don't want strangers to know I'm anything else but successful. For real. I cannot happen to be a failure. My family is respectable. They expect an excellent performance. Me - I'm perfectionist. I understand. I wouldn't dare to fall short of their expectation. They sure pay me a hellload of allowance. So I can still go and order the most expensive clothes. To continue playing pretend. Playing pretend. Nobody knows what this hellish feeling is I get whenever I see people. I loathe every existance in this world. I'd rather people were cockroaches. All they do is hiss when they're afraid. Come to think of it. They're not so different from us? Or are they?

I wonder if anyone would ever dare to write out my story. Like a diary. A union of words that makes everyone feel concussed. To experience what I am living. The vice-versa Verwandlung. That's what it is. You are the cockroaches. 

Let's start with a simple introduction. My name is Henry Martyr. For real. It's such an amazing name. Everyone would think that surname is the basis for a good person. A simpleton that would give up his own life or soul for a greater good. But not me. I'm not doing that. But sure. I play pretend. We humans are bound to our society that keeps us in check, allows us to roam freely as long as we obey it's rules. For certain I know what would await me if I acted out what I truly feel. Chaos. Agony. There's so much hatred within my heart. The fact I know this for certain makes me remember I am still human. I study economy at a reknown university, got good grades, my looks are a tad above average. I tend to take knowledge of what good looks are from some advertisements and TV shows. My family says I'm handsome. I'd consider them to be rather biased. Every mother loves it's child's face. 

Nobody knows what my true nature is. I always had a means to cover up the darkness I know so well. It's been with me since my childhood. I'm twenty-three years old. An age in which I should be ungulfed in a world sorrounded by beautiful people, ladies, friends, parties, chatter, mingling, drinking and intercourse. Oh goodness gracious I called it intercourse. Sometimes I forget I got this robot-like nature. Anything and everything in this world to me is. A matter of fact. I play a role to fit it. Though if I'm honest I'm very much afraid of the outside world. I'd rather be trapped in the hell in my head forever. 

I can still hear the footsteps upstairs. My lightbulb flickers. It's out of it's socket and it swings to the side a little as I hear the voice of a man saying: "Oi. Don't play hard to get!". I grit my teeth. I don't have to go upstairs to know a woman lives there. Whenever she's alone I only hear a slight tremble or aching of the floors. Not such heavy, brutal footsteps. Brutal. Did I say brutal? This awkward situation is spiking a sense of awareness within me. What should I do? Am I going to witness something I really don't want to? I put on some music. Maybe it's going to kill the sound. I hear banging noises and a scream. OH HELL NO! 

I run to the bathroom to soak my face in cold water. I splash it all over. The screaming stops. I hear a clicking noise. A key turning. He locked her in. I look at my reflection in the mirror and stare. Wake up, Henry. Wake up! 

Suddenly there is a strange cold feeling that arises from the tips of my toes and slowly creeps upwards. The whole room is suddenly filled with a cold and heavy atmosphere. I hear a raspy voice with a child-like pitch to it say: "Time stops. Now. Face yourself, Henry Martyr. This is your awakening." 

I look at the mirror and I can't spot my reflection any more. A strange figure has taken it's place. It is wearing a shirt with white and black stripes, a ripped collar. It looks like he tried to tear it apart but failed. There's droplets of blood dripping from his fingertips. Not from something cruel. He seems to have scratched his head  so heavily there's blood dripping down his ears. His face is covered by a mask with a huge eye on it that fixates me. It looks like the drawing of a traumatized child but.. It is moving like a the eye of a living person. The figure says: "Henry. I am you. I am the better you. Trust me. I came to help. There's something going on and I want you to stop it. Take back control over your life. Show the world what you're made of. Live by all means. Live with all you can. Live acting out your heart's desires. Don't hide behind a facade any more. Use me."

"Who are you?", I asked. Sure this was just a dream. A hallucination of sorts. It just can't be real. Did I play too many video games? Has isolation made me a madman? What is this? For one thing I'm certain. I hear nothing from upstairs. Did time truly stop? What is this waking nightmare I am experiencing? 

"Call me anything you want. You can call me Watchdog. Because I will always watch over you. It is my mission to help you. For you have long been bound to me. I just came from the shadows to make you decide which path you want to choose." I look at him. I know for certain I can't go and experience what I am about to. But I don't want to help, do I? What is it I am witnessing? Is that man up to a cruel deed? No. I'm not a superhero, no night in shining armor. This is not a ghost story I am writing in my head. Not a hero's tale and certainly not a romance. What is it? 

Watchdog reaches out his hand. His hand grasps through the mirror. It slowly reaches out. Grabbing a hold of my collar. He comes out of the mirror. Drawing his mask so near to my face I can see the dreadful eye on it fixating me. It's pulsating like a living being though his body and all about him looks like... a drawing? He's somehow transparent like a ghost but his hands and body have lines around them like he is two dimensional. Not from this world. However he can grab me and I feel a certain substance to his grasp. "Listen to me, Henry. You won't be healthy if you witness what is about to come. Protect your mind from it. Protect the girl. Protect what is left. Protect that little spark in your heart. Make it grow. Choose your instinct over your mind! Don't fret. I'll be here to protect you. Grab my mask. Summon me. You will never be alone again. I will be by your side for all eternity." 

My hands are shaking. My body is trembling. I'm cold. There is a light blue tint to everything in the house. It's like it was dipped into a gooey substance that covered everything within my sight. The closer Watchdog reached me the heavier the substance covered my sorrounding. My words just wouldn't come out of my mouth. I couldn't find an answer. I felt a teardrop dripping down my face. Was it really mine? I cannot remember the day I last cried. It must've been 10 years or more. I slowly reached out to grab the mask from Watchdog's face. I felt the blood on his ears. He said "it gets itchy after a while. I'm sorry for the inconvenience." It felt cold. There was no warmth to this body. I could get a hold of the mask. As soon as I grabbed it the world gained it's color again and the gooey substance was gone. I look at the mirror. Watchdog was staring back at me. He was... I couldn't breathe. His face looked exactly like mine. But something had me realise it wasn't me I was looking at. He was still wearing this shirt. I was wearing a tank top and sweat pants. His eyes were different. They weren't as dull as mine. They were sparkling and bright. They had a shine to them. A sparkle. A fire striking within his very face. He stares back at me and smiles. His eyes light up with dim red light inside of them. "Put on the mask. Trust me." 

I put on the mask and step outside of my prison. I walk up to the apartment upstairs and knock on the door.