By this point I really didn’t know if I was in danger, but since I couldn’t imagine that I wasn’t, I worried constantly. It manifested in all aspects of my Gardening sorry I can’t my plants and dogs need me shirt , taking a strain on my classwork, on my relationship with Callie, on my physical health… I was either eating too much, or not at all. Elsewhere, too, my capacity for normal function diminished: There was no time to relax, no time to decompress, and I was hardly ever doing anything for fun. No more music, no more games — no more books, no more DnD, no more anything. I drifted away from all of my friends. The foreign city to which I’d moved built itself up like an icy fortress, and I was somewhere beneath it, locked away in the tightest, darkest dungeon.
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Sometimes the yellowing, deadshot eyes of that hideous suit peered out at me from under the bed; in other Gardening sorry I can’t my plants and dogs need me shirt , the milky white discs of cataracts shone at me through the window. I had dreams of feral… feral things… panting and laughing in the corners of my room, obscured by living shadows; I had dreams where packs of wolves hurled themselves howling at all sides of the apartment, against the doors, against the windows. In one such dream, the door broke under their weight, and the beasts that flooded in bore the fake head of that evil suit, but exaggerated, jaws overlong and flapping as if hinged, revealing a cotton interior and a gaping black tube of a throat. One of the things leapt at me, and grew huge; I felt myself tumble into its dark interior, constricted, before I woke covered in sweat.