8

Pain, the clawing madness of it. The suffocating nearness of an other. Thoughts meshing unwillingly. Flashes of mathematical symbols, blurry images, concepts in colors too brilliant to bear. And the pain, always the pain. Entwining through him in a radius from his mind. Sickly tendrils of control. No way to fight. No way of escape.

One master.

One subject.

Two struggling.

The pain ... horrible, blinding, intensifying.

Loss.

Surrender.

One.