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It’s silent when you can’t think for yourself. Nothing is sharp, nor soft, when the sensation means nothing to you anymore. The words you speak aren’t your own, they’re dull and stiff, almost unnatural, almost inhuman. You didn’t know what that meant anymore, human, you were human, you knew that, but what decided that? When your mind wasn’t your own, could you still claim to be human? If your words and mind belong to something else, are you still human? Is your will still your own? You don’t know.
Proceed. You hear that word, repeating, echoing in your head. It sounds like your voice, but its stilted and awkward, laced with a meaning you can’t quite grasp. Your friends don’t notice, to them you’re just “being Kris.” Can you really be Kris, though, if everything you think, do, and speak comes from outside yourself? Can you really claim your Kris when It is acting in your place?
They question you sometimes though, mainly Noelle. Of course she does, she’s known you the longest. There's something about the way she looks at you—the slight quirk of her brows and squint of her eyes, like she’s trying to see through you. It noticed too.
Proceed. You’re not sure what It wants you to do. You never are. It makes you do things you’d never want to. Silently, you thought about the time before It wormed its way into your chest, when you could breathe freely without the weight of It pressing sharply against your ribs. It burned and sometimes you would wake up with your chest feeling tight.
You’re tired a lot. There's points you blackout, coming too without any memory of the last hour. You weren’t passing out, no, if anything it was more like someone was living your life for you. You tried not to think about it, you’ve had a constant, dull ache in the front of your skull ever since you first noticed it, and it only got worse when you thought about it for too long.
“You’re acting different,” Noelle said, sounding concerned. It attempted to calm her, but you could see she wasn’t buying it. You tried to say you were fine, nothing was wrong, she shouldn’t worry, but would your own words comfort her any more than It could? You’d never been the nicest to her, you’ve talked to her more now since It took control than you had in years. Maybe you should have tried more, when you were still able to decide for yourself. You can’t form the words to express that, though, and Noelle takes a step back, the distance between you feeling massive. She opened her mouth to say more but the words just sounded like gibberish.
You feel sick. It’s a feeling you’re used to, your chest always tight and your head pounding. Your mind felt like lead, heavy with an invasive weight pressing down on your skull. You drowned out the rest of the conversation. You focused on Noelle’s eyes, they were bright, carrying a light yours no longer did. She wasn’t looking at you; she hadn’t been able to meet your eyes since you first noticed It.
Proceed. You step back, feet moving on their own. Noelle stares at you, she’s talking, you can’t hear what she’s saying. You turn away from her, unwilling, and you walk, your arms hang at your side and your hands shake. Proceed, you keep walking, you know the route by memory, you could cut through the trees and be home four minutes sooner, but your feet are glued to the path, stopping at every fork and corner to figure out which direction to go.
It’s dark when you get home and you stop halfway into the kitchen. You breathe, the first deep breath you’ve taken in weeks. The air is cold and your mind clears. The tiredness overwhelms you, but it’s better than feeling controlled.
You proceed, moving to your room and sitting on the bed. It dips down under you and the weight is lifted. It’ll come back, it always did, never staying gone for long. So, you breathe, allowing yourself to feel free, just for the moment.