I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Why is everything so dark? I know there was light. Tangibility. Vision. Something. I feel nothing, hear nothing, see nothing. I’m floating in space or the depths of the ocean.

Was… Hungry…

AH! 

The man flailed around as he caught hold of his body, finally reclaiming his breath in a wet gasp that threw him into a fit of coughs. He lied back down, feeling his soft, textured, sheets and the indent on his pillow. Everything felt more detailed now.

What is that voice? I didn’t hear or say anything… 

Me… In head. Learn much now.

He opened his eyelids wide, but saw nothing. No light, no color, no black. Nothing. He was largely mistaken to call it dark. It was nothing, a resolution he somehow knew would be absolute. He began to cry uncontrollably. He had never been a cryer, but he knew something terrible was happening to him beyond his control. He didn’t feel the lump in his throat, nor that strong emotion that was supposed to come with tears, yet his eyes seemed to work the water on their own. They fell with light pitter patters as he sat up.

Stop. Wet.

“What is this?! Some sick joke?! Who’s there?! SPEAK!” 

He began to shake his head back and forth, hoping to shake his eyes clear and reclaim his sight so he could see this monster.

QUIET!

He was silent now, besides a cough, utterly shocked by the volume of this unknown consciousness in his head. Was he really just, crazy? Had he developed another personality? A disorder perhaps? 

Feeling came back in full force, all of it. A rush of pain flashed up his body, but stopped in his head. His hands shot up, gripping and pressing his head as the pain grew unbearable.

STOP! HURT! Why?

All he could do to answer the voice was groan as he gave in and drifted to sleep, induced by the pain. 

---

Wake up.

Hnnng.

WAKE UP!

He shot up in his bed, soaked in sweat.

“Huh? Who's there?”

It’s me, I guess. You need water.

The voice stunned him. Pain was all he could remember at the moment, but he was thirsty. Standing up, the man felt his head pound as his pulse quickened and headache returned. He sat back down on the edge of his bed, waiting for the blood to return to his head. 

“What's going on? Who are you? Why can’t I see?”

You need to orient yourself. You can stand up now. Try to get some water.

He began to feel uneasy without his sight. Just the memory of having it.

“I don’t want to drink! I want to s...“ 

The drought in his throat kicked in and he coughed roughly.

Go. Drink.

I just want to see again…

I know that, but you’ll have to deal with it for now. 

Again, shock rose through him, making his cough worse. In a hoarse voice, the man asked audibly, ”Can you hear me? Inside and outside?”

I can do more than that. I can dig through all that you are. I am nothing really, at least, that’s what I think about me. I can’t really feel or hear any of the world, except through you. I learned to speak, or think I guess, through your brain. I've been studying.

Not wishing to speak anymore for fear of another coughing fit, the man relinquished his astonishment and began to let his mind roll into a slow and determined voice, attempting to gain dominance over this thing. His mental training would not fail him.

GET OUT AND LET ME SEE AGAIN.

No can do, I’m here to stay. Your eyes are mine. Really your whole occipital lobe and visual track is but I-

Stop! Just stop! What did you do to me?

He attempted standing once more. No blood-rush. The man took a blind step into the unknown of his bedroom. Solid and stable, he took another, feeling for obstacles and trying to remember the layout of his almost bare apartment. 

I did what I came to do, I guess. I don’t really know. I know I was hungry and so I think I ate your eyes and kind of the important pieces meant for vision. That was enough for me apparently, because after that I had an acid trip of a lifetime. I have seen, in a summarized flash or two, all of your life and learned so much from you.

Trying to take in this invader’s explanation while walking to the kitchen at a painfully slow pace, was more difficult than he thought, so he let the thing talk. Maybe it could give him an advantage in this mental game; had the man been kidnapped?

I eventually found your language cells and started to copy them somehow. I don’t know much of anything besides you waking up and whining about being blind. That’s about when I took control of myself. I could decide where to wander and what to do in here.

I think I got it. The man thought incredulously. Anyways, you weren’t in control of yourself when you took my sight?

Nope. Not until about halfway through learning your language was I really able to think for myself. 

Great. I am not inclined to believe you. I don’t even think you’re real. 

I am not a basic consciousness, you sarcastic jerk.

The man coughed weakly at the voice. 

After getting through his doorway, he heard the T.V., or rather the lack of it. It sounded like the news, but it was just a bunch of clattering and sounds. After listening a bit while walking to the counter, he kicked it. 

“OW! This is getting stupid. Will I ever see again?” He rasped out, annoyed.

Probably not. Anything vision related is, how do I put it, gone? It’s… me. Huh. 

You? Did my vision take over and gain consciousness or something? Stop playing with me. I am in control of my own mind. The man breathed slowly to try and calm himself.

I can’t see anything myself, nitwit. I can sense myself.

You’re sounding like a fake mystic.

‘You’re sounding like a fake mystic’. 

The consciousness had a tone of sarcasm itself. 

Stop thinking and get some water.

The man agreed, he was absolutely parched. He started opening cupboards and feeling around for cups, smashing two before he grabbed hold of one. 

I’m going to need shoes in the house at all times now, there’s no way I can clean this up.

Sucks. Sorry about that…

No, you aren’t.

I mean, you’re the boss.

Finding the tap and turning on the water, he filled the cup and downed it. Deciding that wasn’t enough, he drained a few more. Satisfied, he felt for the fridge, opening it and finding his Tupperware. He only had a few things of food in there: sandwich stuff, jelly, leftover mac and cheese, and milk. His freezer had two pizzas, but at the moment the man felt he could not cook them without sight.  

What are you doing?

I’m hungry. Can’t you read my mind or something?

I think that was a one-time thing and I found it very unpleasant. Like a bad trip. I picked up your mannerisms though, you-

Ok whatever. The man thought abruptly. Perhaps he was drugged. He could use the effect to his benefit. I’m eating my mac then I have somewhere I need to go and I will need some help.

What do you need help with?

My memory is hazy right now. I need directions to a friend’s; can you do that? The man thought flatly. He wasn’t kidnapped; who would have left him in his own apartment?

The voice ignored his bland tone and began excitedly. I mean, I can pull up all your memories in mine. I tested that out while you slept. 

Distracted, he asked, How long was I out?

Long enough to be severely dehydrated. Where do you need to go?

My friend Annie’s.

Why?

She can help me out. She was born blind.