I demand her to explain to me what the fück this is because I now realize that I’m not just following orders because I want to, but by greater forces beyond my control.
This is not me walking. I don't want to do it, but my legs don't react to my commands. They’re moving on their own.
I get into my car and start the engine, unable to stop. I curse again, clenching my hands on the steering wheel so hard that I hear a sound of resistance in the material, but still I can't stop.
The frustration and helplessness of not being able to move reminds me of that day on the jet, when Agatha forced me to kneel in front of her and I couldn't refuse.
“Fück this! Fück her!l” I yell. My body is being manipulated by greater forces that are making me drive, but I refuse to be controlled like this. I a
