tdr_backup | Monthly Torment: Week Four

~ With the puppeteered bodies of the damned doing their jobs for their jobs for them, Hell's demons might as well have taken some time off.
When every moment is an uncontrollable and ill-fated surprise, shades feel trapped in a perpetual loop of agony and nerves. Only a few have managed to stay together during this bodysnatching epidemic, very few. The lucky ones have simply lost their companions, been separated by their wandering bodies, but the vast majority have watched through their own eyes as their bodies do the most horrible things imaginable to those around them, to friends and to foes and to themselves alike.
Until one day, that is, when someone makes to reach into one of the red-hot Bulls in Seven but this time when their mind screams no, their hand pauses. It's not a single incident - all over every Level desperate commands directed to hands, to feet, start working. From then on it's as though everyone's body is a toddler, it doesn't want to behave but slowly it starts to listen to direction, to recognise right and wrong. It's like learning to walk all over again, as whatever curse had come over them lifts. ~