[Will tugs his knees up towards his chest, hugging them there tightly and breathing in, then out. Slow. Measured. The way he'd been told would help with the rising bubble of anxiety in his chest. It does, a little bit.]

Yeah. The stuff it did. The stuff I did with it inside me. That's what I remember the most. Feeling and seeing and -- tasting what it did. How happy it was to be hurting people.

It makes me...feel like a monster too. [He manages a faint smile, attempting reassurance:] You can tell where your monster ends and you begin, yeah? You're not all tangled up in it.