I can’t move!

My sentence halts before I mean it to, and I frown. Or rather, I try to frown. What the fuck? Why can’t I move? It’s like I’m lagging in a video game, but John’s movements are still smooth and clean.

“Holy shit that fucking worked!” John squeals, pocketing that little trinket and waving his hand in front of my face, “Holy fucking shit, what do I do now, what do I do now?!”

“Fix this!” I want to shout at him, what the hell did he do to me? With my body paralyzed, I’m helpless to prevent what comes next.