“My head is a mess. I feel like I’m spinning I don’t know what to do,” the girl breathed, the panic clear in her voice. “I feel so torn… and so confused. And it won’t stop. This feeling won’t stop,” she held her head in her hands, tears pricking her eyes.
“Like-- like a migraine?” Victor laments with the other in sympathy. “Or... anxiety, perhaps? I-I don’t want to diagnose you, I mean-- I just wish I understood more.” A beat. “If...it makes you feel any better...” His voice lowers to a mere murmur before he sheepishly admits. “I suffer from it. B-But you’re strong, Beth.”















