[It's like saying it into the pillow pressed against your face. Like scrubbing it out of the footage. Like typing it into a document before erasing every word.]

[Not really.]

[He's still got an audience.]

[Jay digs his fingers into the cloth and foam of the camera's grip, listening as the velcro fastening tears apart, sticks, tears apart again.]

[He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know how to condense it. He needs visuals, needs to cut raw footage down into something comprehensible, something that communicates what's in his head without cutting away the rough edges to fit into words.]

There's nobody.

[It's almost inaudible, the tension in his throat throttling it down to a whisper.]

I've been there since...since then, and it's always just been me.

[He rips at the velcro, feeling the hooks dig in under his nails.]

Thought I saw a--a body once, but it...It was gone before I could see if...what it was. Maybe it wasn't.