There's no time to waste.

He's here.

Hunger, feral pure-blooded hunger, explodes from the cracks in his expression. Hunger or perhaps curiosity. I don't exactly have much time to analyse it.

It takes barely a few seconds for him to adjust. Seconds that I use to dart to the couch, grab the book and launch it at his knees.

The hardback strikes and bounces off his shin like a rubber ball. He looks down, unimpressed by my quick thinking.

Or perhaps he's not an avid reader.

Picking up the book, he flicks through, staring at the pages as if he's never read before. Maybe he hasn't.

Tossing the book aside, he faces me. But I'm already running at him.

I jump up, propel myself toward him. Catching his cheek with my fist, I wrap my arm around his neck. Bring him down. His chin is almost resting on my knee, so I manoeuvre him into a headlock. He tries to break free, so I tighten my grip. He's six feet of pure power, brute force. An asteroid colliding with everything in its path.

Thank God I'm pretty much the same.

His leg catches mine, sending us rolling onto the floor. My back hits the carpet, jarring our shoulders. Alice seems to be psychically holding onto our mind, too terrified to let go.

Mr. Dark lashes out, but I constrict his body with my legs as much as I can. Be a snake, a killer cobra. That's the only way to survive.

As my hands slip and he tugs free, I start to grin. Despite the situation, I can't deny the fact that I'm enjoying myself. This is most fun I've had since the last time he tried to kill me.

Unhinged psychiatrist: I love it.

Mr. Dark moonwalks to his feet, pulling at the buttons of the Doc's shirt. He's trapped, I can see it clearly. Trapped in the mind of the most stoic man on the planet. Man? I know, I'm surprised too. I keep thinking the Doc' is an AI.

I throw the next punch, trying to sweep him at the same time. He parries my hand, dodges my leg.

He's good.

But I'm better.

Ducking his headbutt, I fall backwards on purpose, raising my legs to kick him in the chest. He stumbles, righting himself before I can land another hit. It's almost a dance. A very lethal, violent dance, but still. A dance.

Frowning, he lunges, headbutting me in the face. Black spots float in my vision, force me to the floor again. Mr. Dark reaches for the vase on the nearby shelf. He steps toward me, holding the ceramic above his head. I'm not sure if he's going to hit me or baptise me with it.

Licking my split lip, I start laughing. It's more of a deranged giggle if I'm being honest. And we all know how often I do that.

I prop myself up on my elbows, wait for the blow. I long for stars to obliterate me, for the blackness to douse the confidence I've spent these past three years building up. I won't let it come. I'll break that vase into tiny little pieces and blind him.

Mr. Dark is still holding the vase, staring at me. Staring. Unmoving. Shaking, I realise. His whole body is shaking. It could be adrenaline; it could be something else. Something else entirely.

I raise my head, nonchalant.

"So, are you going to kill me?" If he is, he'd better hurry up. I'm getting bored down here.

"I...I am undecided," he replies, the vase threatening the shatter in his white-knuckled grip. That's wonderful. Just great.

I'll stay here then, while he decides my fate.

It's really hard to maintain a sarcastic voice when you're watching your psychiatrist lose it.

When he doesn't make his move, I groan and rise to my feet. Too little, too late. I win. Mr. Dark, as if sensing his loss, lowers the vase. He spends a moment staring at his hands, almost worriedly. He has never shaken before? I'll take that as a no.

"What do you know about the Janus Foundation?" I demand. Dr. Light has been about as useful as a book with blank pages; his counterpart might be different. Dare I use the word 'helpful'.

Mr. Dark's brow scrunches, a cartoonish thinking face. His eyes are so intense I have to look away. I don't, but I should. I should do a lot of things.

"There was a man. An annoying Doctor man and we both wanted to squeeze his head until it popped like a watermelon. Red fruit like his red brain. Well, I wanted to do that. The man in my head was too boring to compare the Doctor to a watermelon". He lowers gaze in embarrassment. Or some twisted version of it at least. I hold up my hands.

"Hey, no judgement here". He must be talking about Doctor Steele. I don't blame him for the watermelon thing. It's practically describing what I did to him. Hold on...

"Did you move him? I put Doctor Steele in the trash, and when I returned, he was gone," I tell him. Recognition flashes across his face.

"Oh yes. I killed him," he says. So matter-of-fact. As if he kills people on his lunch break.

Before I can probe for further details, he carries on.

"They lied to me. To my other. That Doctor of Light with whom I share this body. Janus lied to us. They created me. They wanted me to do something bad". He lifts his hand, peers at it. The shaking has stopped, and he's fascinated. It's like talking to a child who gets distracted by their toys. His fist closes. Even the cuticles of his fingers seem wild.

"What did they want you to do?" I ask.

No answer. At least not straightaway.

Mr. Dark lowers his hand and runs at me. I roll to one side, collide with the couch as I stand. We parry, parry, block. Pain shoots up my arm, but I ignore it, knee him in the groin. He hardly flinches. Fists like fire, he lunges, going for the head. I lean forward, invade his space when he doesn't expect it.

Hugging him around the waist, I drive us both into the far wall. His head meets the plaster with a smack, and he slumps. As I peer down at my handiwork, I notice he's still awake. Great.

Rubbing his temples, he gazes up at me. Feebly, he flicks his leg out to trip me. Without any effort whatsoever, I sidestep his foot. Nice try. Well, terrible try. From the very first night we met, his blows, his strikes, have all been half-hearted.

He's always been holding himself back. Which is partly insulting but also partly a relief.

"I don't understand," he breathes. "I was made for battle". I kneel, the carpet grating against my skin.

"But what do you want to do?" His head snaps up and he scrambles away. Confusion ebbs from his skin in mini supernovas.

"No one has asked me that before," he says. I didn't think they had. People like us, we don't have a choice.

We don't have any choice.

"Me neither". It's then I begin to piece the facts together. Mr. Dark was created for battle, for war. Some crude form of super solider. Oh my god, how lame is that? Cheesy or what?

Eventually, I manage to coax him onto one of the chairs, where he explains as much as he can.

"They wanted me for the battlefield. Soldiers. That's the word they used. The said it wasn't... Government sanctioned or something. I was never sure what they meant by that". He continues after a breath.

"They never made more of us because I made them think they'd done it wrong. The Doctor thought I didn't exist. But then I did. He hates me. I hate him. I," he stops, his face twitching.

"I don't want to be, to be used. I shall be the one to use people". My entire body relaxes. I know exactly what he means.

But what about me? Am I some pet project?

Mr. Dark's hands are beginning to shake again and his eyes dart between me and the vase. The books, the TV. Anything he can use as a weapon. I can't be one of their experiments. I don't have the desire the kill people. But I would. I know I would. I have. I would do anything to keep her safe. Keep Alice safe. Keep my mum safe.

Sighing, I ready myself, in case I need to fight.

Square my shoulders, start on my breathing. Calm means smooth, smooth means steady and smooth is fast.

"If you're going to kill me, you'd better hurry up. Mum will be back soon," I point out. I can't imagine she'd be too impressed if she came back to find her only daughter lying dead on the living room floor.

Once again, I find a smile creeping onto my face. This afternoon has been more than amazing – I don't want it to end.

Mr. Dark is about to move when he stops, stares at me with the expression of a toddler on its first trip to the zoo. Another sigh.

"What are you doing? Aren't you going to kill me?" He's more entertaining than Dr. Light, I'll give him that. Leaning forward, he reaches out, hand wide and open. Eyes seeing me. Truly seeing.

"You fascinate me, Alyssa Callett. In a way no one else on this entire planet does". As flattered as I am, I don't think he's met enough people for that to be a compliment. Still, I'll take what I can get.

Noticing my scepticism, he drops his hand.

"I don't want to be your enemy," he says. If I had a dollar for every time someone said that to me... You know the rest.

"I don't want to be yours," I shrug. He perks up, almost lifting his head like a dog. Perhaps I can teach him a few tricks. Stay, heel, sit. Good boy. Yep – way more fun than Dr. Light.

Uncertainty boils to breaking point, while I motion for him to sit next to me on the couch. I pick up the remote, turn on the TV. He scurries over, pausing to press his fingers to the screen. He's been watching the world through a keyhole, robbed of life, love, everything.

"Moving pictures," I tell him when he frowns at me. He nods as if he's just pretending to know what I mean. Doc' mustn't have watched any movies these past three years. Or perhaps Mr. Dark isn't aware of what Doc sees like me and Alice. Perhaps the partition between their personalities is granite unlike our permeable membrane.

What a horrible existence.

After a quarter of an hour spent watching a housing program, where a rather dreary couple are debating over whether to buy a property abroad, Mr. Dark turns to me. There's this look, almost recognition, swimming in his eyes.

"Dr. Light. Dr. Light knows you. The other you. He saw you before," he tells me.

I sit back on my heels. Why does everything have to be so damn complicated? Why can't everything just be simple?

I never asked for any of this and neither did Alice.

My heart flutters, lungs struggling to inhale despite the overabundance of oxygen in the room. The memories bubble, swallowing me into a void. Mr. Dark watches me with a perplexed expression. I choke a snort, as my eyelids oscillate. Bones buckle and I'm falling backwards.

The living room dissipates, and I wonder if I'll ever see it again.

If I'll stay drowning in the past forever.