His first, jolting scream of horror was followed by a second, then another each overlapping the last as they came, layer on layer, jabbing like mosquitoes at a street lamp, flashing colours spinning faster and faster like a bright-painted fairground ride. His defense from each deadly wave too quickly became a feeble hands on head protection of his inner self, inner soul against the hooligan terror. Deep down he knew what was happening (hadn’t he said this was inevitable?), even now sadly weighing up his glib prediction against the true terror of this onslaught, even through the pain as it stabbed and pecked at the fragile, fraying cord still supporting his thoughts and mind and sanity and oh God the pain … and he felt his grip weaken, and he felt the cord fray and break, and he gave a last scream as he fell into the chaos, as his mind, as his consciousness slipped down to drown in the still, black depths beneath an insane sea.
Also published on Medium.