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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Synchronicity" data-source="post: 2119037" data-attributes="member: 10070">James Dunbar, HP 5/5"I stopped believing in people who were genuinely interested in helping when I was 8 years old. Everyone's got an agenda. Some just hide it better that others."James smiles a bitter smile at Rose's question. He extends his hands and looks at them, clenching and unclenching them. The depth of self-loathing and bitter anger in his 'smile' - grimace would be a better word - is quite staggering. "I used to be a person. I used to have a life!" His hands clench convulsively as his voice rises on the last words. "Now...now I'm this. Every time I meet someone, I'm calculating the best way to kill them! I mean, look at you! I know that you manifest plant-like traits, meaning I can't be sure where a lethal organ strike might be, which is something I'd need to compensate for. What kind of thought is that?! Why do I think that?! I used to believe it was like there's another person in my head! Only now I'm forgetting things! I couldn't remember I liked flowers when I was young, and...the other day I couldn't remember what my parents looked like - just for a moment. I don't know what he did to me, and I don't know if it's over! I don't know if I'm me any more! I don't even feel properly human anymore! And all you people don't have a damn clue about what's out there! About the kinds of people that make up this world! You're all deluding yourself into thinking that good people exist, but they don't! I'm the proof of what people are really like, behind all the masks and civility! You ask is that what's making me so angry? Does it sound like I need other reasons?! You're all so blind, so ridiculously naive!" James is on his feet by the end of this tirade gesticulating and shouting, his eyes blazing with a anger that reaches the very core of his being. With a cry of  someone pushed beyond their limits, his fist lashes out at a nearby tree, needed a physical outlet for his emotions. 'No!' At the last moment, he shifts his other hand into the path of his fist. There's a crunch as he smashes bone with the force of his strike and he staggers back, shaking and pale. James grits his teeth as his hand begins the process of knitting itself together again, looking anywhere except at Rose. "I think I've outstayed my welcome. Maybe I'm not a garden person after all." With measured and careful stepss, concentrating on ignoring his smashed hand, James begins to leave the garden. 'Because you needed another person to think you were crazy. You haven't made your quota yet this week.' 'Maybe I am crazy.  I'm having an imaginery conversation with myself - again!' 'You're a fool. Always have been, always will be. But that's not what bothers you, is it? What bothers you is the fact you might not even be that - you might be a doll.' 'Shut up.' 'A shell. A hollow man. The thing that's left over after a real person's been obliterated. Are you sure you're still you, James?' 'Yes. Because I have Amelia. She knows I'm still me.' 'How very touching. And risky.' 'That's enough! Nothing's going to happen to her. Not while I'm here.'</blockquote>

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