As The Nightmare approached, her face cracked and worn like broken doll parts, her presence echoing piercing static, the words Heart, Lungs, Liver, Nerves repeated like a mantra. The Paranoid, one of many personas residing in the hero’s overcrowded mind, was the one reciting it, a warning to the other minds inside this faulty host that they must now take over what were once independent roles. Heart, Lungs, Liver, Nerves. These words beat like a drum; the lone cord connecting this body to this realm of reality. However, as The Nightmare drew nearer, the frantic heartbeat faded into quietude. And then, with a snap, the fragile thread was severed.