Deacon's foot crushed the little statue, which caused a chain reaction. First was intense burning pain that went up the back of his leg to his spine and then to his brain. When it hit his brain, things became disoriented. He was no longer himself but he was. Everything was in black and white, grainey, like an old 8mm movie projector. He could see himself, smiling, saying it would be ok. The other him bound his hands, which were not his, they were slender delicate things with long nails...they were her hands! There was a jump, like a baddly edited movie and he was handing by the ropes above a tank of water. He turned himself upside down, or at least she had done that he was sort of along for the ride. She hung there suspended, like one of those circus performers on the silk rope. Another jump and she was tangled in the rope, it was around her neck...his neck?...cutting off air. She tried to call out for him, but the ropes kept her voice inside.<br/><br/>The world began to spin and then went black. She felt his lips against hers, pushing air in, trying to save her. His hands pressing on her chest. It was too late she was slipping away. The moorings that kept her in her body were breaking. She looked up and saw a light, but then felt hands, grabbing her and holding her here. She saw herself below, saw him trying to rescue her. Then there was pain, like nails being driven into her skull.<br/><br/>He found himself looking up at the ceiling. He heard a commotion outside but his own pain was far too intense for it matter...