My insides feel like they're being ripped apart. These thorns are peircing through my skin. I can feel my brain inside my skull. It's cold. It stings. It's melted into my brain. It feels like there's needles in my brain. I feel so cold. I feel so sick. I can feel something else running along with my blood through the stream. I hear screaming inside my ears. I hear the constant whispers of the ones the parasite used me to kill. I'm seeing through the same eyes as a murderer. My soul is in the same body as a murderer. My hands are a murderer's hands. Their blood is on my hands. It makes me sick. It hurts so bad. ... I'm going to die, aren't I?
