You lock yourself and your son of five alone in a room with a months worth of water and food. Within the hour he starts breathing strangely and then walks to stand alone in the corner, his back facing you. Concerned that he isn't feeling well or is scared you approach him asking what's wrong and you notice his breathing has gotten even more coarse and now he's continually opening his hands and then closing them into a fist. Underneath the breathing you hear a whining buzz. The sound is so startling that you step back but your foot stumbles on a stack of canned foods and you fall to the floor. Your son now starts walking backwards towards you, his head still turned away. The whining grows louder as you push yourself away trying to get back to your feet. The radio spits static briefly and the monotone announcer says "in the event that you are unable to separate yourself from others it is crucial that you prevent yourself from hearing any sounds they may produce. This is possible by.." but the buzzing has gotten so loud the radio is no longer audible.

"Daddy? Why are you on the floor?"

Young Kris's father was acting strange as he crawled on the floor and he never responded to his questions. He saw many of his daddy now. On the ceiling, in the floor, on the walls. All as if multiple mirrors. And the colors were all greenish grey. How strange Kris felt. His father kept pushing him away and it was so mean! He had to get to the center but he was making it hard. Daddy's strong. And his chest has a hard part. Hard to get into. Such small fingernails.

Your shirt is in shreds and your chest is covered in a black liquid pouring from the mouth and eyes from what was your son. The buzz is so loud that it has turned to a ringing. It hurts but you can't cover your ears. Your hands are too busy pushing its head away from your chest.