[But, see, that's ultimately just the worst part of it. The part where he's grown into people's lives like a mold, like something cancerous and inescapable, growing into all the spaces that he shouldn't be. Should've cut him out. Should've spared everyone the agony. Should've been strong enough to just do what he had to do, do what Alex suggested, except that he'd never taken Alex's advice, he'd just kept going like maybe it was out of spite or maybe it was out of feeling like he owed him like he owed Jay like he owed Brian like he owed Jessica like he needed to prove that it was possible that you could walk away from certain death and pick up your life and piece it back together so it wasn't in shambles any longer.]
[It wasn't like that. It isn't like that. He never really escaped it. He never really escaped It. It's in his lungs, in every neuron, in the texture of his nightmares. It's in every inky word that must have seeped out of his Shadow's mouth, honey-smooth and whispered and sweet as arsenic, until it wasn't.]
[One hand flexes at his side, pulls into a wrist. The knuckles gleam, bone-white.]
[It feels like the slide of a blade into flesh gets easier each time it happens. He's not up to the hundreds, yet. He's not that far gone. How long will it be until he is?]
You shouldn't. [It's the same denials he keeps forcing out, but they don't mean anything. They don't do anything. She just keeps going on and refusing them, but she doesn't offer any counterpoint, doesn't offer any claim as to why it wouldn't work - but maybe he's not giving any rationale either.]
[It's not like he could expect any of this to make sense. She's just a kid.]
[And he's hurting her.]
I'm sorry. [He rubs one hand up over his face again. Like that'll smear away the lump in his throat.] I'm doing this...all wrong. Not making any sense.
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[It wasn't like that. It isn't like that. He never really escaped it. He never really escaped It. It's in his lungs, in every neuron, in the texture of his nightmares. It's in every inky word that must have seeped out of his Shadow's mouth, honey-smooth and whispered and sweet as arsenic, until it wasn't.]
[One hand flexes at his side, pulls into a wrist. The knuckles gleam, bone-white.]
[It feels like the slide of a blade into flesh gets easier each time it happens. He's not up to the hundreds, yet. He's not that far gone. How long will it be until he is?]
You shouldn't. [It's the same denials he keeps forcing out, but they don't mean anything. They don't do anything. She just keeps going on and refusing them, but she doesn't offer any counterpoint, doesn't offer any claim as to why it wouldn't work - but maybe he's not giving any rationale either.]
[It's not like he could expect any of this to make sense. She's just a kid.]
[And he's hurting her.]
I'm sorry. [He rubs one hand up over his face again. Like that'll smear away the lump in his throat.] I'm doing this...all wrong. Not making any sense.