The protagonist of Make/Believe is the Dance, of which the four bodies in space are manifestations, and the central event in this protagonist's journey is when (s)he is raped by a friend. I know this is the pivotal scene, and that this is what happens, because it is the only moment in which the dialogue is intelligible.

The dancers of tEEth talk a lot but their words are frustrated. They have fingers in their mouths, or shins, or microphone cables wrapped across their faces, or whole microphone balls shoved into their maw like bulging cocks. They talk a lot but they're not saying anything. Not anything I can understand.

Because how could I? A humiliation that deep and enduring?

How could I understand?

This must be why the emotional pain I saw on stage was not the plodding ache of depression, nor the unlikable inclusiveness of vague malaise, but an unending series of electric shocks administered by some internal demon. Their arms jittered in time like a taser was going off inside their spleens. "This," I kept thinking to myself, "Is not a sadness I know."

And then, "I feel so bad for them." Assault by a friend means that you keep seeing your assailant socially. New wounds atop the old. God help you if you actually loved them.

And what if you knew your friend would see you dance? You might feel like you had a microphone but nobody could understand you.

You might even feel like your microphone was choking you. Like a dick.

 - Wesley K. Andrews