[ he doesn't want to follow this line of thought to its logical conclusion, but they're already here. his voice sounds like it's being scraped over gravel, in no small part thanks to the stinging bile at the back of his throat. ]

... it's why you can't stop, right? Even if I asked you to stop following me, even if I begged.

You aren't afraid that they'll kill you. You're scared they'll take another --

[ he can't say it. it's too awful. ]