Work Text:
It struck you by surprise, one Friday.
You were on vacation with your family. Morocco. You collapsed to the ground suddenly; you didnʼt know why. Everyone collapsed. You thought you were dying.
You woke up and you couldnʼt move. You were sure that somehow, youʼd died, and your soul was trapped inside your unmoving body.
Then, your body did move. It wasnʼt you moving it. It was something else inside you, invading your body, puppeteering you with no regard for what you wanted.
Everyone else appeared to be puppeteered too. They moved robotically, perfectly in sync with one another. There were so many dead bodies, some covered in blood, and nobody cared. They were loaded in the back of trucks like luggage. You helped.
You were in Morocco for your sisterʼs wedding that coming weekend, in the homeland of her new in-laws.
You looked forward to seeing your little sister get married. Youʼd watched her grow up, you saw her relationship with her fiancé blossom over the last few years, and you were so happy for her. Seeing her happy always made you happy, too, even if she did break your favourite discontinued lipstick when she was eight and you were still a little mad about it.
As excited as you were, some part of you dreaded it. You thought of your aunt Helenka, who was inevitably going to drink far too much and make a fool of herself. You thought of the boy you dated in your twenties. You loved him. Maybe, if he hadnʼt died in a car crash, you would have been married by now.
Your sisterʼs wedding never happened.
You havenʼt seen your family since. Youʼre not even sure if theyʼre still alive.
The entity that has taken over your body, that taken over every body, has seen everybodyʼs memories too.
It dressed you up like a doll to appeal to one woman, based on something it only knows about because it looked at her wifeʼs memories. Her wife, who the entity killed.
You have kept your hair in a bob ever since you were fourteen, and back then, you had to argue with your parents about it because your mother really liked your long hair. You insisted on it. That little bit of self expression was taken from you when the entity put extensions in your hair to make you more attractive to one woman you never knew before. You resent that your body isnʼt your own anymore.
You donʼt like that it called you Zosia. Your name is Zofia. You were Zosia to your friends and family, not to the world.
You feel for that poor woman. The entity has done nothing but manipulate her, usually using your body to do so. It takes advantage of her poor emotional state and enables her alcoholism. She drinks so much, and the entity drinks with her, pouring alcohol into your body. It has no regard for the fact that she has a problem and shouldnʼt be encouraged. It has no regard for the fact that you didnʼt like drinking, how you feared youʼd end up like your aunt.
You resent that your body isnʼt your own anymore.
You still blame this woman, Carol, for some of the trauma your body has been through. There is a laceration scar in your back from a piece of shrapnel when she was careless with a live grenade, and you got a concussion when you collapsed from the blood loss. She put drugs into your freshly recovering body and sent you into cardiac arrest, and thatʼs not to mention the seizures.
Most of those things arenʼt really her fault, though, you know that. You just need someone to blame, someone that actually has a face. You resent that your body has gone through so much trauma in such a short period of time. You resent that your body isnʼt your own anymore.
The entity let her believe that she had a relationship with you. It put on a performative personality which was certainly not yours. You suspect it was based on her late wife. It dug in your memories to share stories of your life with her as if it is you.
It had sex with her in your body.
You resent that your body isnʼt your own anymore.
Youʼve kept certain thoughts and feelings repressed for decades, things you never could have confessed to your family. Even now, that tingle in your stomach you get whenever a beautiful woman speaks to you quickly turns to nausea.
You never got much enjoyment out of sex when you were with him. You loved him. You assumed that sex just wasnʼt supposed to be enjoyable for women, or that you had a low drive. Thinking about this makes you feel even more sick. You loved him.
She is so beautiful. When it first had sex with her, it felt good. Genuinely good. You used to think you just didnʼt like sex, but with a woman, itʼs just so different.
It shouldnʼt have felt good. It wasnʼt you.
During your first ever experience with a woman, you were not even in control of your body. You sort of resent her for that, too, but she gave in to her primal desires after the parasite in your body manipulated her.
You resent that your body isnʼt your own anymore.
Sheʼs working so hard to find a cure. To save you. She keeps working even though it means sheʼs been alienated from her fellow survivors. Even though the entity made you and everyone else leave when she got close, or when another survivor, Manousos, got close. Even though she has very little to gain from it and everything to lose. Sheʼs going to save you and everyone else.
You love her.
You hate her.
You love her.
You resent that your body isnʼt your own anymore.