The violin used to be his escape, but it too had quickly grown to be just another distraction, and was discarded like everything else scattered around the tiny confines of his chambers.

He reached an arm behind the pillow his head rested on and adjusted its position so that he was lying in a more comfortable angle. He then lazily lifted his free hand up above his face and squinted against the dim light emitting from the ceiling of his room, trying to focus his vision on each finger at a time as everything else blurred into the background. The trembling started slowly but visibly. It crawled down his arm and pricked his skin. Though determined not to give in, the boy eventually let his shaky hand fall back onto his chest almost lifelessly. 

This is pain, he muttered to himself as he closed his eyes in annoyance. It is pain, yet it has become such a routine that I feel nothing. He shrank further into the covers, hoping to find peace in sleep that will probably not come. Soon, the doctor will come knocking on his door, and he will have to go through the aching experiments all over again. Not that he really minded, after all it was just one type of pain transitioning into another, though some rest would be good before the next round starts.

Of course, as usual, rest does not come easy to him. Every time he fought for the right to slumber, his mind would wander off and think of the most idiotic (or that’s how he addresses them) existential questions. He hated them very much, but persistent as he was, they wouldn't leave his mind until he answered them. Yet, he found that every time he tried to, he would draw a blank. 

Who are you?

Why are you here?

What do you want?

What will you do next?

 There was a muffled rapping at the door that he dreaded. "Boy," called a gruff voice shortly after. He stared at the door and contemplated not answering, though he knew the consequences would be no less disastrous. A moment of silence filled the room before the voice sounded again, louder and more impatient. "Boy."

"I'm here."

"Good, come down to the laboratory. I've made something I thought you might enjoy."

Silence.

"Boy-"

"I'll be there in a while."

"Make sure that happens." The echoes of the doctors footsteps grew fainter as he walked away, and he exhaled in relief. He swung his legs off the bed and stood up wearily, his body still trembling slightly with every step he took. He slowly picked up his violin and set it down on his bed along with its bow. It had been a gift from the doctor long ago, although it had never been used much, and there was a coat of dust covering it. After all, there was nobody around to hear him play it, much less appreciate it. The doctor was always too focused in his research to care about such matters, and there was virtually nobody else in the old citadel which he lived in. As for what lies outside of the citadel, he wouldn't know. He was never allowed to go beyond its premises. It was terribly lonely.

Feeling as though he had stalled long enough, he reached out towards the air and at once a spark of pale blue burst from his fingers. As the sparks dispersed they were replaced by a small key of the same colour, which fell into his palms. He grabbed the key cautiously and held it out away from his body, then twisted it slightly as if unlocking an invisible door. Again, tiny blue particles seem to materialise and gather at the tip of the key, forming what looked like a sphere.

"Boy."

"SHOOT." He nearly jumped out of his skin as the key slipped from his fingers, the particles diffusing into the air. He clutched his chest in shock as the doctor's voice continued behind the door. "Please refrain from using that method to travel, it's not fully functional yet." He gritted his teeth as he tried to slow the palpitations of his heart. "How did you kn-"

"I have eyes everywhere, boy. Now, please walk to the lab. With your feet."

˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚˚ 

Who are you?

The question repeated itself in his mind as the doctor strapped him onto the worn out dental chair that he visited every day. Syringes of different sizes were arranged on a table next to it, along with scalpels and vials and other things that didn't make sense to him. "I'll start now," the doctor said casually as he held his arm down with one hand, and pricked a needle into his skin with the other.

Who are you?

Who are you?

Who are you........

"Doc, who am I?" he asked, though his head had started to numb and he could hardly focus on the patterns of the tiled ceiling. He realised the doctor had paused in his operations for a second to pounder on the question. "You could be anyone you want to, boy." He resumed his actions as he continued talking. "And I mean it. There's nobody here to stop you, and I believe it's about time I called you something other than 'boy'. A profession, perhaps, considering the things you can do."

"A profession..." he repeated softly, wondering about the possibilities of what he could call himself. Teleporter. Space traveller. Abyss bender. Void warper. He liked the sound of that. Void Warper. He replayed the name over and over again in his head. I am the Void Warper.

Why are you here?

I'm here because... and suddenly a strange confidence took hold of him, and he wasn't sure if it was because of something the doctor did to him, or because he finally found a name for himself. But his gut told him that he had found a new purpose, something to accomplish, and he could finally answer those bothersome questions and forget them forever.

Why are you here? 

I'm here because I am a test subject of the doctor, and I am forbidden to leave.

What do you want?

I want to leave.

What will you do next?