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Almost mannequin like they sat there in the positions they had had. I walked in their midst pondering what they had thought before this transformation, what could these happy people be thinking besides happy thoughts.
I reached out with anticipating fings and put my fingers to one's head, then slid my fingers open until my palm rested on it's forehead.
A flood of voices rushed my ears, but all seeming to come from the same vocal chords. Anger. Hate. Loathing. I moved onto the next mannequin and did the same. Sorrow. Despair. Depression. Next one. Shame. Tourture.
I continued on and found some many emotions. Not my own though. These thoughts werent mine. These feelings are not mine. Where had they gone? Why didnt I feel these ways? Why is my mind cloudy and dark? Where is my sorrow and anger and depression? I wanted them all. Have I been doomed to this life of apathy?
Anger.
I began toppling these mannequins and stompping them into the dirt they came from.
Destroyer.
I tore their limbs from the fleshy sockets they rested in.
Calm. Collective. Empty.
These mannequins were destroyed and I was now left with an empty victory over my apathy once more.
But, behold, the next door to the next dinning room of false hopes...