No. No. This - he knows this. He knows what this is. It's something blurry and white flaring up in the corners of his vision and chasing him, moving between blinks. It's the thing that backs him into a wall until its unseen tendrils creep into his skull and he screams, really screams.

It's being trapped. No choice. No choice. Not ever. And it's always for his own benefit, isn't it, it's doctors saying they know exactly what you need and that you shouldn't argue, Timothy, just trust us, Timothy, we know what's best for you, Timothy.

His tone is high and desperate, laced with unadorned panic.

"Get away from me!"