Suddenly, Dick rose abruptly from the bed as if he had been stung on his buttocks by a scorpion. He remained petrified on the edge of the bed, looking at the walls. His naked body, rigid and sculpted like adamantine, began to emanate a strange cold. He got up, walked around the bedroom, looking at himself in the mirrors placed on the walls and ceiling. He felt like a prisoner of "something", and felt the need to escape from that "something" as soon as possible. Suddenly, as if terrorized by a demon, he started running around his bedroom, giving angry kicks to the walls, breaking the mirrors that decorated them. Sharp fragments and splinters of glass fell to the ground, and Dick, totally barefoot, couldn't avoid being cut and bleeding badly on his feet. In his state of dementia, he even took a large deodorant can and threw it violently against the glass ceiling, causing shards of all sizes and shapes to fall like a meteor shower. The cutting and bleeding now became profuse. Dick knew he was in serious trouble.
His bedroom looked like a minefield, a lethal surface that could never be walked on safely by any human being. But in a sudden inspiration, Dick decided to try to break his own manic cycle. He took the mattress and threw it on the floor in an area that was between the bedroom door and the bed, so he could move towards the exit without cutting himself further and try to find a broom to clean up the disaster he knew he'd caused. It didn't take long to extricate himself. Once out of his bedroom, with his naked body already streaming with blood, he started looking in the living room, in the kitchen and in the bathroom for something that could help him to remove the glass from the bedroom's floor... Unfortunately, he couldn't find anything useful, but he did have the good sense to don a pair of leather sandals. And in a flash, as if a light bulb had been turned on in his head, he remembered having a small broom and dustpan in a closet, which was in the bedroom… So, he returned there. Walking over the mattress, he got to the closet and pulled out a broom, with which he began to pick up the larger and sharper pieces glass on the floor and piled them up in a corner located near the door, along the wall, for prompt removal. It took nearly ten minutes to remove the most threatening crystalline fragments.
But Dick's return to the bedroom was like returning to the scene of the crime. Seeing his bloody reflection in the larger chards sent his neurons spinning again… He saw his chest and torso streaked with blood and his two hands barely recognizable as such, dripping red. Somehow, amid the confusion, he grabbed his cell phone and started to browse for a phone number that he had previously saved in his contact list. When he found the person, he made the call, spoke for a few minutes, and then hung up… That seemed to calm him a little… He left the bedroom and went to the living room, and stayed there sitting on a couch with his lacerated naked body. Four long minutes passed. He didn't move from the sofa.