He walked into the room silently, apathetically. Something clicked. A clarity returned to him. Suddenly a bolt of fear struck him; his heart beating faster-what had he done? What had he started? His mind frantically searched the recesses of his brain to find some rhyme or reason for what had just transpired. As his fear consumed him the paranoia sunk in and he was engulfed in darkness.
After a time the fear subsided and a calm sound wisped around the room.
"Who are you," the sounds becoming a solid voice with every intention of allaying any fear.
When he heard this he attempted to flee. He soon realized that his arms were restrained and that he had nowhere to go; he ran straight into a wall. This room he was in was not normal. It felt so surreal with soft walls spongy almost. The floor was cold and hard barren with no obstructions that he could feel.  The lighting in the wing he was being held in was being worked on by maintenance leaving him in an ominous darkness, heavy and fatiguing.. With every motion the atmosphere seemed to siphon a little bit of energy from him. Once he was incapable of movement the voice chimed once again, this time a little closer, "what is your name?" in a forceful whisper.
"My name is Jack," almost instinctively out of fear. "That's all I can remember."
"I am Corvan. I will entertain you for now, Jack," it chirped-seeming to be mocking his helpless state.
Regaining control of his fear Jack hissed, "Fine, its not like I can do anything about it," with every ounce of attitude he could muster. The truth was he was cornered and lashing out was his last self defense mechanism.
"Your hostility saddens me, Jack, but very well" the Corvan cleared its "throat" clarifying its intent to begin. "I will tell you a tale about Johnny C, a young man with devious intent. He had never been quite right, maybe it was the death of his parents at an early age, or maybe it was the countless times he was held victim to others' teasing and bullying that traumatized him so. In any case Johnny C was never disciplined, so he did not know right from wrong. Yesterday he showed this," the voice paused a bit before going on. "It was early morning and Johnny C had not slept in days. At this point the only two stimulants that his mind acknowledged from his body were hunger and fatigue. Johnny C wandered the streets-ragged and dirty-in search of food, wobbling about as if he were a zombie from the weakness of malnutrition. He had just turned 18 a few weeks ago but you would not have been able to tell, the way he looked in bad health set him back to a skinny 15," continued the voice, stopping for a moment to let Jack's stomach finish its war cry against hunger.
"Now Johnny C had a home to go back to. Although it was never on his mind, almost nonexistent to him. He never returned. Whatever trauma as a child he had endured had saturated his mind leaving it a blank slate, save a few instances that provoked consciousness He just walked around and lived like a homeless bum. But he was not sad, in fact he was not much of anything he just "was," the voice explained.
"It was early. The streets were barren, and the lamps were still lit. The morning proved to be cold. The wind blew the dirt around from what used to be grassy areas on the sides of the walk that Johnny C was trudging along-this area of town was not very well taken care of. His body eventually collapsed from the lack of sleep. His consciousness slowly faded.  He awoke hours later against the wall of a store. Someone had moved him. He looked around with the usual empty look in his eyes searching for the one responsible for this. A man approached Johnny C in a business suit with a bagel in one hand and a drink in the other.  H offered Johnny C the food and drink. He aptly took the food with such quickness that the nice man retreated a step or two in surprise. Johnny ate as if he were to never eat again and drank as if his insides had dried up like a desert. He was not yet sated but this was better than nothing. The man smiled at Johnny C and inquired for a name, but received no reply. Instead Johnny C got up and walked off, confrontation of any sort was unacceptable to him. The fact that the man had spoken to him crossed the line. The man did not attempt to follow, but watched the boy walk away."
  Later on, Johnny was sitting at a park. An officer approached Johnny C asking him why he wasn't in school. Without skipping a beat he turned to walk away only to be held fast by the grip of the officer. By this time it was noon and he was getting tired again. He didn't have the strength to break free of the situation he was caught in. He felt cornered and a rage welled up inside of him. His anger was his defense mechanism, much like that of a small animal. He lashed out at the officer by spitting in his face followed by countless obscenities spewing from his mouth. The officer found this intolerable and tossed him in the back of the police car. Once back at the station Johnny C was inspected by a few of the officers. By the third officer it had become routine. Questions about home, family, school, name. He answered the questions with little compliance. Nothing said was of value, no history and no answers. The only things that came from his mouth were sentences with little or no coherency. Nothing he said made sense or tied together, and most of the smatterings of information were ramblings from bits and pieces of different subjects.  They sent him to a man who inspected and eventually diagnosed Johnny C with insanity. This man got little from Johnny C as well other than his first name and a letter from his last. He was taken away to an asylum. he didn't know what was happening, but he cared little. Upon reaching the asylum it was morning and Johnny had recovered some strength but still followed orders quietly. His silence gave off an aura making his presence cold, and others noticed it. He walked escorted by the staff to his room. He walked into the room silently, apathetically. Something clicked. A clarity returned to him. His heart and brain started racing-" the voice was cut off.
"What are you telling me!?" cried Jack-he had finally caught on. The Corvan did not reply.  "Who are you?!" Jack cried out stumbling around the room feeling the walls. He realized they were padded.
"I am your second half," Corvan replied quizzically.
"My second half?" Jack completely puzzled.
"Just put the two halves together Jack," Corvan spoke for the last time offering his last clue.
"Jack... Corvan... I'm Jack Corvan?" He asked to no one.
He was sure of it, but almost to make the fact more concrete the electricity retuned to his wing of the asylum. He peered down at his straight jacket that read "Johnny C." There was a man at his door to serve lunch and his first dose of daily meds since his dosage at the admission into the asylum early that morning.
"How is our newest patient?" asked the man-half being friendly and half keeping himself occupied. His average customer was either too crazy to talk or in a coma.
Johnny C was struck by a revelation. "Jack... Jack is interchangeable with John... Johnny..." he murmured as his food was slid through rectangular food hole at the bottom of his door.. He finally realized what the voice was. It was his mind. And in his last moment of clarity he spewed out, "I am insane...."