[Jay doubles over, wheezing. What he's writing doesn't make sense, it doesn't, but something in it rings true, like it's bypassing his conscious mind and plugging directly into something else.
Just breathe. There's nothing in your lungs, just--
Jay fights to stay upright. When he speaks, it burns, like there's a hand around his throat.]
no subject
Just breathe. There's nothing in your lungs, just--
Jay fights to stay upright. When he speaks, it burns, like there's a hand around his throat.]
What the hell are you doing?