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[drawing_a_blank]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, ZEKI. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 04.01.19.76 *** Z has joined 04.01.19.76 <Z>Hi. This is Zeki Barrone. I might be home or I might be out or I might be questioning my existence and sense of self while staring into the cold, starless vacuum in the mirror. <Z>Please leave your repressed memories, forbidden knowledge, the memory of a horsehair sofa, or that one confusing and shameful summer in Costa Rica, and I'll get back to you.

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[certaininequities]

Of course I'm here, it's my body, it's my brain, Zeki, what just happened? I can't do this. There are so many reasons this is really, really not good for either of us, whatever it is.

A part of him knew he should be trying to calm her down, to be the better person here, but he was too distraught at having another voice in his head, even if it was as un-Goblin-like as it could get, and his body betrayed both of them, despite whichever was truly in control. His heart started to pound, and Zeki would feel the room tilting on an invisible axis between Norman's hands and knees as she crouched on the floor. Every joint began to tense and lock.

If she had never experienced the effects of post-traumatic stress disorder, she was about to first hand.

How do we stop this?

[drawing_a_blank]

Being able to distinguish between his distress and hers made no difference in how thoroughly she was feeling it as it multiplied and fed off itself, growing heavier and more crushing every moment that passed.

What just happened? What just...

I don't...kn...hnnnow

If she'd been thinking clearly, Zeki would have been able to guess pretty quickly what had just happened. But at the moment, it was taking all her strength and will just to process Norman's words and reply to them with more than incoherent gibbering.

I can't do this, he said. I can't do this. The words echoed in her head and Norman may or may not have been able to discern the wash of guilt that swept over her.

This was her fault. She didn't know what happened or how it happened or how to make it stop happening, but in a brief moment of clarity, Zeki knew that she was making it happen. He was hurting and she was causing it.

I'm so- sor- oh! oh nn...

She let out a high, thin gasp as the vertigo hit, straightening his back and flattening his hands against the wall. It didn't help. His stomach flipped and his body was shaking, sweating, spinning-

Stop - please!

Maybe it was the panic attack, maybe it was the intense fear, or maybe it was the possession itself, but Zeki felt suddenly giddy and lightheaded. Exhausted. Receding. Fading? She didn't think it in words - or if she did, it was too weak to actualize, but as she loses her hold over his limbs, Norman is welcome to perceive a vague apprehension about whether she might be dying and whether that might be okay.