Johnny's much too aware of how much doubt's been planted -- in fact, that's the problem. He didn't need that doubt. Doubt has a way of growing, overtaking and strangling him, rewriting his beliefs and his securities. He doesn't need any more fucking doubt.

And what's so, so much worse, is the doubt that Johnny plants for himself: the realization that, this is still a dream, and the influence left by Zagreus is still there, and even beneath that influence lies Johnny himself, Johnny who is better than anyone at gaslighting himself. What makes him think Topher is telling the truth? What makes him think Topher is even real? His powers are so close to Zagreus' -- and what's to stop Zagreus from creating this trustworthy spectre who spins such fabulous, realistic yarns about someone he trusts? Of course, of course he would do this, find any excuse to drive them apart. Of course he would do it to himself. Johnny has never allowed himself to be comfortable.

"Fuck you," he snarls. "Get the fuck out of my head."

The crack becomes a fracture; the floor separates violently, a jagged gap crawling toward Topher. Johnny may hate this power but he'll use it if he has to.