The butterfly. It displays its wonderful colors, fills your eyes with awe. But this is only a show. Behind the veil, its body crawls on the dirty ground, hides in the darkness and transforms… another of its lies.
The scarab. Its dark body creaks and rustles with its blind movements. Slowly, step by step, it gets closer and closer and closer and closer.
The fly. It will come, whatever you do. It will cry out loud, looking at you from everywhere at the same time.
The face. The face of the Playwright. My mate from the other room used to scream at night, always told us he could feel something under his bed. A presence...An eyeless gaze.
The inmate resides in the first room of the closed department of the East Hill Asylum. He has a very cryptic way of communicating. When Wakefield showed him some psychiatric ink patterns, he revealed some clues about the what happened in the ward. His former neighbour felt violated during his sleep. This neighbour felt as though an eyeless gaze was observing him from beneath his bed. This gave Wakefield an incentive to inspect that room. He found a passage under the bed towards the room where Alexandre used to sleep in. This was the only entrance as the main entrance had been bricked up, just like his house on Paul Street 26. It was there that Wakefield found a glass eye beneath the floor.