Nellie stopped fighting the invasion upon her mind at this very moment, there didn't seem much point to struggle anymore either way.
The power of the sea flooded her conciousness like a crack damm, the pressure was just too much to handle as is.
And she let it fill her up because fighting just made experiencing the memories of all who where trapped here, or connected to this thing all the more worst for her.
And the memories were already coming so fast she couldn't tell which thoughts were hers anymore, and theirs anymore.
A little boy in a 1950s asylum begging the walls to stop talking to him.
A woman in Victorian London swallowing a large dosage of laudanum in her depression.
A girl in ancient Mesopotamia carving symbols into her arms because the moon told her to in her dreams, mistaking the play of the mind as the will of the divine.
At this point, she was not even sure, if it was even proper to call them just mere memories.
