The room felt wrong the second he stepped in.

It was Bob’s face. Bob’s voice. But it wasn’t him.

His eyes were distant, hollow — like something else was looking out through them.

“Bob?” you said softly.

He didn’t answer.

Then, flat and empty: “You shouldn’t be here.”

Your stomach dropped. “That’s not funny. What’s going on?”

He took a step closer.

Inside his head, Val’s voice was calm. Measured. Certain.

She’s distracting you. She’s destabilizing you. You need control.

You reached out instinctively. “Bob—please—look at me.”

For a moment — just a moment — his hand twitched.

Then the pressure hit.

Invisible. Crushing. Like the air itself had turned against you.

You gasped, stumbling back as your chest tightened, your body suddenly heavy, uncooperative.

“Bob— stop—!”

He stood there, unmoving. His hands were clenched at his sides, shaking, jaw tight like he was holding something back.

“I… I have to,” he said quietly, like he was trying to convince himself.

Good, Val’s voice echoed in his mind. Don’t hesitate.

The pressure intensified.

Your knees buckled.

You tried to breathe — couldn’t. Tried to speak — nothing came out.

“Bob…” you whispered, barely audible.

His eyes flickered.

But he didn’t stop.

The force surged once more — sharp, overwhelming — and your body finally gave out.

You collapsed to the floor.

Hard.

The pressure vanished instantly, like a switch had been flipped.

Silence filled the room.

Bob stared down at you, frozen. His breath came fast, uneven, like he was on the edge of panic.

For a second, it looked like he might break.

Then slow clapping echoed from the doorway.

Val.

“Well done,” she said calmly. “You didn’t let emotion interfere. That’s progress.”

Bob swallowed hard, eyes still locked on you.

“She’s not—” His voice cracked. “She’s not moving.”

Val smiled faintly. “She’ll be fine. You didn’t kill her.”

That word made him flinch.

“You did exactly what you were supposed to,” Val continued. “You chose control. Power. Discipline.”

Bob’s hands trembled.

He whispered, almost to himself, “I didn’t want to.”

Val stepped closer. “Want has nothing to do with it, Bob.”

She looked down at you once — briefly — then back at him.

“You’re becoming what you’re meant to be.”

Bob didn’t respond.

He just stood there, staring at your unmoving form on the floor, chest tight, something inside him screaming that this wasn’t strength at all.

And deep inside, buried under Val’s praise—

Something in Bob broke.