it is an ache you have no words for. the feeling of something invading you, claiming you, a thousand fish hooks piercing your skin and pulled taut, a swarm of bees making honeycomb out of your skin. it burrows into the core of everything you are. it draws your spine backwards, widens your mouth in a soundless scream, removes the air from your lungs.
it happens in an instant, a flash, a plangent eternity of the psyche that reverberates like the toll of a bell. a shake so finite it is invisible to the voyeurs of suffering as it ripples through you and stirs a metamorphosis of the entire self.
it starts with the lines in your palm and undulates through your body like the heat of uncountable scalpel blades teasing your skin into submission. the solid presence of your body ceases to matter as you are rendered inchoate: a prototype of yourself carved out of the shapeless original.
a beginning has erupted in the middle of a story that has no linear path. you are never who you think you are.