Jihn, the French Clown

A jarring sound jolted you awake from your stupor, "Oh fuck...", the sleeping medications they gave you had already worn off. Fucking great.

The snores from your next-door inmates were unbearable. All the sounds coming out of their respective rooms were giving you a justifiable reason to put a damn fork into someone's throat. Or yours.

You are now once again a prisoner to your insomnia.

"Why don't you just kill everyone here and escape, mon ami," as if I can do that.

You rolled your eyes at the familiar voice that's been talking to you, ever since you were... a kid.

The clown inside you woke up.

"I mean you're the main reason why I'm here, Jihn." the sound coming out of your mouth was close to a whisper. You always feel like you need to snuff out all the traces they keep finding that you're crazy, fucking crazy. "And please stop speaking in french, you're not even one."

"Haha! I'm sorry, mon chéri. You know how everything is to me, those annoying pests..." his voice trailing to what seems like a smile.

"I mean he deserved it, that fucking pedophile," you replied.

"I knew you always get me.. and of course you know french is now in my style, even if it's... stereotypical," the clown retorted, "and I'm still learning."

Ugh, he's telling me to read more boring language books again. He's like a machine when it comes to absorbing knowledge. Always like a brand new sponge.

"Well, if you didn't gouge out his eyes and penis, maybe! We wouldn't be here, where we couldn't get anything we want. That was just the cherry on top, would you like me to elaborate more?"

Yes, yes you guessed it right. I'm in a fucking psychiatric ward for the criminally insane.

"Je suis désolé," he smirked, "Even if I didn't take the reins, you would've done the same thing, hm?"

"No, I would've been more discreet," you glared at the wall, "and it would've been more planned carefully."

Hence, you wouldn't be stuck here with your 'fellow' nutcases.

You were diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder and Schizophrenia. Such an obvious remark from other people. To them, Jihn is just a manifestation of your 'bad childhood'. Boohoo. To you, Jihn is something much more.

Much, much more.

All your life, you were fed with lies about the world. That momentary glimpse of a beautiful lie was taken from you, right after your parents got into an accident. The relatives you thought, would take care of you. Abandoned you, used you, and tossed you aside like some used garbage.

They were just after your inheritance, considering how rich your parents were—

"Let's just stop there before it gets more depressing.. and violent," like a spell from the clown, your eyes focused once again.

"Jihn, we weren't caught killing those shits who gave us fucking hell." you scorned.

They think Jihn's the crazy one, they're making a grave mistake about that.

Both of you definitely live on the same frequency.

"Shall we plan a breakout?" you smiled at the thought of freedom, "But I wouldn't really want any collateral damage," you added. And by no means, civilian casualties.

"You had always been the soft one," the clown smirked. "Between the both of us..",

"I might be batshit crazy, Jihn. But that's the extent of my insanity. What's my creed again?"

The clown was silent for about a minute.

Then, he grumbled, "Ugh, kill the enfoirés but not the innocent." Jihn sounded dismayed, but you knew deep down, he loves your creed, "All that reading and watching your Marvel merde corroded your brain,"

"Helped, you mean," correcting him.

Jihn smiled, a very exaggerated smile.