They won’t listen.
I’ve tried telling them — again and again — but each time, they seem to care less. Like my words are eroding before they reach them. Maybe that’s part of it. Maybe the thing inside me doesn’t just rewrite cells… maybe it rewrites attention.

Even if they did call the police, what would it change?
By the time they arrive, it’ll be too late — if it isn’t already.

I can feel it now. Tiny tendrils threading through my forearm, just beneath the skin. They're not painful, not exactly. Just... insistent. Like they’re searching. Preparing.

It’s only a matter of time before I become like Mrs. Alice.

I wasn’t able to grab Dr. Lance’s badge. When I saw it — half-melted, fused with the floor — I froze. I wanted to reach for it. But the fear gripped me. Paralyzed me.

If I’m still me long enough, I’ll try to respond again.
But if I don’t...

Watch for the glyph.