Disclaimer: nothing you recognise is mine. Some of what you do not recognize is not mine, either.

Resistance… is futile. Futile. Word. Cacophony of sound. Loud. Scream? Ear-splitting. Futile. And blessed silence. Deafening. Ringing in my ears, wrapped in gray. Futile. Mist? Cotton? Swamp vapors? Moving, fast as you can. At the same place. Still. Futile. Silent. Ringing in my ears. Futile. Wading in the water. Mist? Where? Futile.

Where was I before? Need to remember. Futile. Why, what is futile? Word, this one word. Sitting on a bed. A boy, almost child, pale. Round face, plump cheeks. Do I know you, child? I feel like I should. Futile. He is trying to say something. Eyes, huge. Tearful. Silence in my ears. Who? Gone. Futile.

Mist, grey. More light please? Futile. Resistance? Not trying. No. Screaming from apart? Child. Crying. Who? Futile. Thicker. No wisps. Fog, but from where? Dark. Tiring. Out. Need to run out. Futile.

A boy. Taller? Why, have I seen him before? Futile. Baby fat almost gone. Eyes, I have seen them before. Pleading. Begging for something. What? Lips moving. What are you saying, child? What? I cannot hear you. Need to remember. When you come, the mist is almost transparent. Stay a bit longer. Please? I try to reach out, but my arms won't move. He looks at his hand. Why is he holding a candy wrapper? Shoulders sag, he turns, walks away. Don't go!... Sitting on a bed. Futile.

Hurt. Word. New. Someone crying. Scream. Why? Need to remember. Futile. Broken cacophony of sound. Blessed, accursed silence. Crying? Can't. Not me. Why can't I cry? Where? Boy. Crying. Eyes. Familiar. Crib? Futile. Resistance, futile. Far, far away. Sound. What? Pieces of jigsaw. When? Where? No. Futile.

A young man. Sitting on a bed. Child, boy. Is he the same? Eyes, hardened. But it is there, a spark. Hope? What is hope? Futile. Hurt. Crying. Crib. Scream. Broken silence. No, boy, don't go, stay. The shadows are always lighter when you're here. Need to remember. Child. A young boy becoming a teen. Please, stay a while longer, I have almost remembered. My arms are leaden. Candy wrapper? Was it I that was giving him that? Neville, don't go!. . .Futile.