Act 7 - Flashback

The cold, gray sky stretched over the land like a heavy curtain, and the monotonous drumming of the rain sounded like a steady, relentless tapping against the windows. It was a bleak day when Cedric woke up in the psychiatric institution for the first time as a child.

His room was sparsely furnished, the space small and covered in gray walls that conveyed no warmth. A simple wooden chair stood beside a bare table, and a small bed with a thin mattress was the only place where he could rest after a long day. The air was stale, the scent of disinfectants lingering, as if everything here was coated in an invisible layer of fear and sadness.

Cedric sat by the window, staring out at the blurred rain. His eyes were vacant as he watched the flickering droplets racing down the glass in rapid streams. His thoughts were chaotic—a wild jumble of incomprehensible impressions and flickering memories. He didn't quite understand why he was here, but the thought that his family had brought him to this place left him with a deep sense of emptiness.

The walls of the institution seemed to be made of steel, and the endless waiting was all he knew. Every day, he woke up to the same sounds, the same smells, the same faces that never felt familiar. Doctors, nurses, therapists—all seemed to be part of a system that never truly understood him. Their words were foreign and meaningless, as if they were speaking through him rather than to him.

One of the few things he learned here was that he had to be silent. Silent in his thoughts, silent in his behavior, silent in his existence. Every reaction, every emotion seemed to be a risk, a potential danger that could push the caregivers to send him back into the dim haze he was never allowed to leave.

Yet despite everything, he didn't feel completely alone. There were other children who seemed just as lost as he was, just as trapped in the darkness of this institution. Some cried, others simply sat there, staring into the void. Some hid their faces behind masks of silence and smiles—smiles that were just as hollow and meaningless as the emptiness in their eyes.

The day passed without much event, but Cedric could never shake the thought that this wasn't everything. That there was more. A truth he had yet to understand. Something that compelled him to confront the dark past that was buried deep within him.

He remembered an encounter—a conversation he could never forget. A conversation with the doctor who always asked him the same questions, always trying to reach into his mind.

"Cedric," the doctor had said, "can you tell me why you are so sad?"

He had said nothing. Instead, he had simply looked down at his hands, nervously folded in his lap. The doctor had repeated the question, again and again, but Cedric could never answer. The answer he knew deep inside was too dark, too deep to put into words.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, and Cedric flinched. It was time for treatment again—time for the same endless conversations. But this was not the place where he would find answers. The answers he sought lay much further back, in a past he could not fully grasp.

Cedric sat, as always, on the hard chair, his hands resting on his knees, as Dr. Harrington sat across from him. The file in the doctor's hand rustled softly as he flipped through the pages.

"Cedric," the doctor began in his calm, professional manner, "you know why you're here, don't you?"

Cedric gave a slight nod without lifting his gaze. The walls of the office seemed to close in on him, and the monotonous hum of the air conditioning sounded like a distant, steady pulse.

"Because I no longer know how to deal with my parents' death," Cedric finally said. The words came heavily from his throat, as if he had kept them locked inside for years.

Dr. Harrington watched him closely, as if searching for something Cedric himself had yet to understand.

"Tell me what exactly happened. What did you take away from your loss?"

Cedric stared into the empty space for a moment. Then, he took a deep breath and began to speak.

"I was very young when they died. An accident. They had a car crash on their way home. The driver lost control, and the car overturned. I was nearby when it happened, but I… I couldn't do anything."

He paused and tried to organize the memory, which lay in his mind like an eerie fog. "I remember the moment I arrived at the hospital. But they were already gone. I was alone. It was just me and my little sister, who was still just a child."

"How did you process that feeling?" Dr. Harrington asked in a gentle, almost fatherly voice.

"I didn't know what to do," Cedric murmured. "And then came the orphanages. It was the only way we could survive. I just wanted to be with my sister. With her, I could build a life—a happy life." He paused, clenching his hands into fists, though his voice remained steady. "But they tore us apart. They sent us to different homes. I don't know why, but it felt like the world was trying to rip us away from each other. I never wanted to be here. I just wanted them to take me to my sister, to a normal life."

The doctor nodded understandingly, though it was clear he wanted to dig deeper into Cedric's soul. "You know, I have a son too. Little Jonathan once had to be admitted to a psychiatric clinic. It was hard for all of us, but now he's mentally well again, and we're back together. It's difficult, but you should…"

But Cedric sighed and abruptly stood up. "I don't want to stay here," he said, his voice sharper than he had intended. "I just want to be with her. Please."

Dr. Harrington said nothing more. He knew that now was not the time to push further. Cedric had given his answer, and it was obvious that the pain ran deep.

Later that day, Cedric had a little time to himself. In the psychiatric institution, as cruel as it seemed, there were always small moments of freedom. Cedric left the building and walked into the courtyard. The sun shone weakly through the dense clouds, casting faint rays on the concrete ground.

There, he saw a boy surrounded by a group of other children. They kept pushing him, laughing at him, and shoving him to the ground. The boy didn't scream—he only struggled desperately to fight back as the others kicked him.

"Hey!" Cedric shouted, stepping toward the group. "What do you think you're doing? Leave him alone!"

The children turned around, startled to see Cedric. One of them, clearly the leader, scowled. "What do you want, Cedric?" he sneered. "You want to interfere?"

Cedric stepped closer, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and determination. "If you don't stop right now, I'll come closer. And you'll regret it."

The children hesitated for a moment, but the leader raised his hand and shoved Cedric. "What are you going to do?" he taunted.

But Cedric reacted swiftly. He grabbed the boy's arm, twisted it, and shoved him back.

"I've had enough of you," Cedric said as the children began to back away. "Get lost before I really lose it."

The group scattered, running away, leaving the boy who had been on the ground staring up at Cedric with gratitude. Cedric knelt down and offered him his hand. "Are you okay?" he asked gently.

The boy nodded, tears in his eyes. "Yeah… thank you."

"Come on, get up," Cedric said, helping him to his feet. "My name's Cedric. What's yours?"

"Elias… Elias Ward," the boy replied softly, still uncertain, but clinging to Cedric's hand as if it shielded him from an invisible threat.

"I'll protect you," Cedric said with a slightly serious smile. "You're not alone."

Elias looked at him with wide eyes. "You… you're the first person to ever help me," he murmured.

Cedric nodded as he looked at the boy. "It's important not to fight alone. We have to help each other."

Elias gave a small smile and nodded. "Thank you, Cedric. I never knew that someone like you existed."

"There's always someone there when you need them," Cedric said quietly, then looked up. That was the moment he truly felt, for the first time, that he wasn't alone.

Days passed, and Cedric and Elias grew closer. They spent their time together in the courtyard of the clinic, away from the other children. Elias, a quiet boy, had a fascinating passion for theater and puppetry. He often spoke about the plays he created in his mind, about the marionettes he imagined in his thoughts. Cedric listened attentively, even though he had never really been interested in theater. But Elias' enthusiasm was contagious, and Cedric often found himself daydreaming about the idea of a puppet show.

"Imagine, Cedric," Elias said one afternoon as they sat together on a bench, "I'd love to have my own theater. A room just for me, with all my puppets and a stage. It would be a place where anything is possible, a place of freedom."

"That sounds… amazing," Cedric said, thinking. "You really have a passion for this, don't you?"

"Yes," Elias replied with a wide grin. "It's like magic. Puppetry is its own universe. You can control everything. Every string, every movement has meaning. And the puppets… they're alive, Cedric. They're alive."

Cedric nodded, considering Elias' words. Maybe he was right. In a world where they had no control, puppetry seemed like the only freedom they had. It was as if the puppets had more power than the people who moved them. But Cedric knew that wasn't enough. They needed more than just an escape into an imaginary world. They needed real freedom.

Then, one day, disturbing news arrived: Elias was soon to be transferred to another psychiatrist. A man known for his extreme methods—methods that had more to do with torture and psychological abuse than actual treatment. The news spread quickly among the patients, and for Elias, it was another devastating blow. The fear in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Cedric," Elias said one evening as they stood side by side on the clinic's balcony, watching the dusk settle, "what will I do when I'm out of here?"

Cedric looked at him and hesitated. It was a question that haunted him as well, but he knew he had to answer—to show Elias that he had a future, that he was more than just a prisoner in this clinic.

"I'll visit a theater," Elias said, as if it were the simplest answer in the world. "I want to see what it's really like. I want to know how it feels to stand on a real stage, to be part of a performance. I want to see what it's like to have control, to pull the strings."

Cedric looked at him, his eyes widening. "A theater," he murmured. "There aren't many theaters out there, Elias. But you'll find your own when the time comes."

A brief silence fell between them as Cedric considered whether he should tell Elias the truth. He knew things would only get harder between them, and it wouldn't be long before Elias was taken to that psychiatrist. He couldn't let that happen.

"You really want to know what I'd do if I got out?" Cedric finally said. "I'd go to my sister. I still have her in my mind, still in my heart. I'd go to her, and we'd build a life together, far from this place. We'd walk through the streets, without fear. Without this clinic."

Elias nodded, as if he understood exactly what Cedric meant. "I don't have a sister, Cedric, but I'd like to go with you when the time comes. Together. Maybe one day, we'll find our own theater—for both of us."

Cedric paused for a moment, realizing that what they needed wasn't just an escape. They needed freedom, and he would have to fight for it.

A few days later, as they sat in the courtyard again, Cedric told Elias about his plan. It was a risky plan, but he was determined to see it through. The clinic was like a high-security prison—no one had ever escaped before. But Cedric had found a way, a plan he wanted to share with Elias.

"You know how everything here works, right?" Cedric asked. "I've figured it all out. The security system, the guards, the routine. Everything. There's a weak point. A window that's always secured too late. If we can make it through the building, we can reach it. Then we have a chance to escape."

Elias looked at him with wide eyes. "You mean… we can get out of here?"

"Yes," Cedric said firmly. "We just have to do it right. If we manage it, we'll be free. We just need one moment of opportunity."

Elias slowly nodded. "I trust you, Cedric. If you have a plan, I'll follow it."

"Good," Cedric said, taking a deep breath. "Then let's get ready."

It was a cold night, the moon hanging like a silver sentinel in the sky. The air was sharp and biting, but Cedric and Elias were determined to carry out their plan. This was the moment when they would either win everything or lose it all. For days, they had gone over every detail, weighed every possibility, considered every danger. They knew this was their one chance. If they failed, they would remain in this clinic forever—in this hell of walls and iron bars.

"Are you sure you can do this?" Cedric whispered as he crept alongside Elias. Their footsteps echoed in the dark hallway, but they had to be careful. They didn't have much time.

"Yes," Elias replied quietly, looking up at Cedric. "There's no other way, Cedric. I have to get out. I... I have to get out to understand why all of this happened."

As they moved through the narrow corridors of the clinic, Elias began to speak about his past—something he had never told anyone before. And now, on this night of decision, he felt compelled to reveal it to Cedric.

"My mother," he began hesitantly. "She was a famous actress. Everyone wanted to see her, everyone admired her. She was everything you could imagine a star to be. But she… she was obsessed, Cedric. Obsessed with theater and puppetry. When I was little, she used to play with her puppets for me. But at some point… at some point, she started seeing the puppets as more human than people. And my father… he wasn't good enough, not enough to keep her occupied. One night, while she was playing with one of her marionettes, she killed him. She said he was disrupting the stage, that he was just a 'side character' in her life."

Cedric looked at Elias, his expression serious, but he knew that it was Elias' past that had brought him here—the same passion for puppetry that had connected them. A part of Elias' life that he had never let go of.

"That's why," Elias continued, "I was admitted. I'm here because they thought I was crazy. But in truth… in truth, I was just like her. I saw the puppets, I heard the stories she told me, and I wanted to imitate them. Theater, puppets, all of it… it's what binds us, Cedric. And I'll never forget that. It's what led me here."

Cedric nodded silently. They were almost at the exit. The heavy door, the one that was supposed to promise freedom, stood before them like an insurmountable mountain. But they had decided to climb it. What they didn't know was that another mountain was about to appear.

Just as they reached the exit, a van suddenly turned the corner, screeching to a halt in front of them. The door of the vehicle swung open, and a group of psychiatrists stepped out, while clinic staff appeared from behind. It was too late. Cedric and Elias locked eyes for a brief moment—then disaster struck.

"Elias!" Cedric shouted, but it was already too late. Two staff members grabbed him and dragged him back toward the van. Elias struggled, his eyes wide with fear and confusion.

"Why, Cedric?! Why did you do this?!" Elias' voice was desperate. He screamed, pleaded for help, but Cedric couldn't answer. A strange feeling washed over him as he stared at the ground, unable to face the situation.

"Why did you bring me here only to lose me again?" Elias bellowed in fury as he was shoved into the van. But Cedric did nothing. He just stood there, frozen.

The van slowly rolled away, and Elias' screams faded into the night. The clinic staff, still standing behind Cedric, watched him in silence. And he knew this was the moment when he had to make a decision.

"Can I leave now?" Cedric asked quietly, turning to the staff members. They nodded without a word.

"Yes. But you know you were never really going to leave this place. You accepted the deal, Cedric," one of them said with a thin smile.

Cedric nodded.

This was the moment when he had lost everything.

Elias Ward's funeral took place on a cold, overcast day. The air was damp, and the dim light only seemed to deepen the sorrow of the moment. Cedric stood at the edge of the grave, his hands buried deep in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the coffin as it slowly sank into the earth. No one spoke a word. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken grief and secrets that would never come to light. But Cedric couldn't cry. The years had robbed him of the ability to feel sorrow—or perhaps he had simply lost the need for an explanation.

He was alone, and the silence surrounding him felt almost tangible. No words of mourning for Elias' death reached him. The loss, the pain—it was all trapped in a memory Cedric himself couldn't explain. But there was something else. Something that weighed on his stomach, something that echoed in his mind over and over again since he had left the clinic without another word.

The guests, who had formed a circle around the grave, suddenly turned to stare at Cedric—all at once. Their expressions were identical, blank, as if they had stepped out of a nightmare. Their gaze was so intense that Cedric instinctively turned, as if he were caught in invisible threads.

And then he heard it.

Elias' voice, echoing and haunting, broke through the silence like a faint whisper rising from the earth itself.

"Remember…"

The words came from Elias' corpse, still lying in the coffin. A cold shiver ran down Cedric's spine as Elias' mouth moved, as if speaking, though death had long claimed him.

"The psychologist… remember, Cedric…"

An eerie stillness spread as the guests standing around the coffin turned their heads in perfect unison and repeated the same phrase:

"The psychologist… remember, Cedric…"

The words echoed in Cedric's mind as suddenly, images flooded his thoughts, drawing him in. Memories of his time with Elias, wandering the clinic's courtyard together, their conversations, their plans for the future—and then, over and over again, Elias' voice:

"They say…"

It was as if the sound of his words distorted reality, pulling Cedric backward in time.

"I'm supposed to…"

Another flash—strengthening their bond, the moment they dreamed of leaving the world behind. But again and again, the phrase flickered, as if something unknown had lodged itself deep in Cedric's mind.

"Dr. Cole…"

Suddenly, like a jolt surging through his body, the flashback shattered. A piercing noise, like breaking glass. It was as if something inside him had cracked, as if for a brief moment he had grasped the entire truth—only to lose it just as quickly. The pain, the reality, the memory was too much. Cedric struck the nearest wall with all his strength.

The impact was deafening, and Cedric stood there, breathless. The images faded, but the name remained, echoing in his mind, reverberating through the dark corners of his memory.

"I… I know now… but… this can't be…! Eliza… I have to find her…"

The thought that the puzzle, which had tormented him for so long, had finally taken shape nearly sent him spiraling. Everything was clear now, yet still beyond belief. Elias had led him onto the right path. But now that he knew what he knew, only one thought burned within him:

He had to find Eliza.

Cedric turned and looked out over the empty funeral site, the wind carrying the last fallen leaves through the air, and the ever-present emptiness he could never truly shake. But at that moment, his next step was clear. He had to find Eliza—to uncover the truth about what had really happened.

And to finally get the answers he had been searching for all this time.