Work Text:
He can hear. It, them, everything. It’s loud. It doesn’t stop. Ever. Not when he begs. Not when he yells. He has made his Doctor aware of his problems, his complaints falling on silent ears. The peas. That's what the Doctor says. It's the peas. Peas. Peas. Peas. Said to him as if he were stupid. Some lower class type piece of shit. He is sick of it. The voices are sick of it.
He has a kid. They don’t talk much. Ever. He also has a wife? A girlfriend? Something. The mother of his kid? Definitely. The rest? Debatable. He himself doesn’t know. It switches. Constantly. Her name is Marie. She also switches. Differently though. She switches partners. He can tell. Others tell him. He is sick of it. He is sick of her.
He works. Two jobs. Two jobs because he is a lower class type piece of shit. Not because he wants to. Because he is forced. One of them is eating peas for the Doctor. We know his opinion on that. The second job is working as a barber for the Hauptmann. Cut this, listen to that. Agree constantly. Receiving judgment for what he never wanted to be. A lower class type piece of shit. Receiving judgment from his enforcers. The voices are sick of it. He is sick of it. He is so fucking sick of it.
He has a friend. Andres. They get along well. Despite the voices. Despite the fact that Andres is weirded out by the voices. Everyone is. Andres is the only one who deals with it. He can appreciate that. They both are lower class type pieces of shit. Both forced. Unwilling. They can bond over that. They do. He likes it. The voices like it. Everyone does.
There is a man. A Tambourmajor. Not of the enforcing class, not of the forced one. Better off, yet still not better. A small difference, but big enough. At least the Tambourmajor is not a lower class type piece of shit. Marie likes him. The Tambourmajor likes Marie. And him? He hates it. The voices hate it. Both are sick of it.
Back to the voices that only he can hear. They talk a lot. What do they say? Many things. Some less intrusive, some more so. Hatred and love. Pee on the floor and murder. Especially murder. Primarily murder, as of recently. It doesn’t stop. Jealousy or undiagnosed crazy? Both or one or none. The voices want him to kill. Does he want to kill? The voices do.
A forest. A knife. A lake. A murder. Marie gets stabbed and him? Scared. Terrified. Regretful. Does he regret it? Potentially. Or not. The voices don’t. And he might just be the voices. Or was he always the voice? Confusing. But not important. The murder is so much more. To him in a different way than it is to others. The end of one life ended two.
The Tambourmajor liked Marie. He also liked Woyzeck. Who is Woyzeck? He is the him of before. The voices guy. They fought. Once. The Tambourmajor won. And lost. Lost his heart to the man he fought. The lower class type piece of shit. Metaphorically only.
The court. A place of sorrow, anger, regret, remorse, joy. Other things too. A lack of regret, a lack of remorse, a lack of sorrow, anger or regret. A surplus of apathy. That is how he feels. The Tambourmajor feels differently. He feels pain at losing not one, but two loved ones. One he can love openly. One he loved behind closed doors. They hold eye contact. The voices stop, for just one moment. Pain flashes. The voices made him a monster. When they stop, he comes to light. But he is both. Both voices and human. Monster and man.
The gallows never looked nice. Even when the weather was nice. He hangs there. Dead. And cold. The voices stopped. He died man, not monster. At least in his eyes. He could separate both sides of himself. Others could not. To them he died a monster. A lower class type piece of shit.