Bedtime Voices

It was a late September evening when it all started. A little past ten O'clock. The sun had already set, and the night sky had filled with stars. The crickets were playing a somber tune outside, filling the air with a melody of sorrow and solitude. I remember that day like it was yesterday, I get a sense of peace thinking back on it now. It all happened over a year ago, when the voice started whispering to me.

The first thing I heard was a faint whisper, the words, unintelligible. That was the first sign. Every night after, the whispers grew louder, and more clear. Within a week, I didn't even have to strain my ears to hear the words of the voice. It began with simple things I already knew, like one plus one is two, and a cat is an animal. The voice came every night for a few months, by the end of the first month I could hold a conversation with it. It was scary, thinking about what is making this voice, but it also helped me calm down when I was feeling stressed. I told my friends about it once, they told me I must be going crazy, and they can't hang out with crazy people. That's when the voice first changed. It began talking louder, and complaining about me. I couldn't sleep after that night, the voice wouldn't let me. So from then on, I longed for sleep, but detested what came with it, the nightmares. In the seldom times sleep came to me, nightmares followed. Everything that I hated and feared, reared it's ugly head in an attempt to make me even more fearful.

I tried to talk to my parents about it, but of course they wouldn't listen. They haven't before, so why would they now. My so called friends had all but left me to suffer, and others that had heard about my voice came to mock me. I mean, why shouldn't they, I'm different from them, I'm weird. I began to adjust to my sad and lonely life, only the voice ever came to willingly give me company, never ceasing to return each night, with far worse than what it brought the last. After two months, I'd had enough. I though, who would care if I just disappeared? I didn't have any friends, my parents couldn't care less about me, and people who didn't even know me mocked me because of my story.

I spent the next day for the first time in over two months, happy. I had made the decision, and I wouldn't have to suffer any more. My bullies couldn't touch me that day, because they didn't matter, but that day, something happened, that changed me. A girl I didn't know approached me. A pretty girl with long blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. She looked at me with worried eyes, and spoke in a voice so soft, I could feel it's gentle whisper resonate throughout my bones.

"Are you alright?" Her words confused me. I felt great, I had been smiling all day, why would she ask me such a strange question? "You seem different than you usually do."

"I am different today." I smile nervously, "I'm finally happy!"

"But you also look scared." She whispered, the worry in her eye growing, "You look like my brother did."

Her expression was so plainly laid on her face, I didn't even need to look at her to know it, an expression much like my own, the face that I had for over two months, a face filled with sadness, and fear. We talked for a while, both of us skipping out next class to just talk. When we had finished, I could feel the tears running down my face. I quickly wiped them away, only to see her do the same.

"Thanks for talking to me." I said, wiping the last of my tears away. "My name is Darce, what's yours?"

She looks at me and smiles, "I will tell you tomorrow." That night, I didn't go through with my plan. Not after what that girl told me. I needed to know her name. But, the voice came again that night. Telling me, 'You're pathetic! You can't even end your own suffering, you can't even give up. Why would she care about you? Who could ever care about you? Go on, get up and finish what you started, or are you just that pathetic.' The longer it went on the worse the torment became, until the thoughts came back. Again, I went another night without sleep. The morning came eventually, after an eternity of pain, I decided not to go to school the next morning. What was the point? I was just going to get bullied again, and the voice would just get worse. I cant ignore it, it's too loud, so what could I do? Let it tear at me until I break? Memories of the previous day had all but vanished, and I felt alone.

Time began to pass, slowly stretching into an eternity. I didn't have the energy to do anything, so I didn't. I just lay there in bed, eyes closed, enjoying the temporary silence. Nothing could get me there. Not the voices, not the bullies, nothing. Here in the quiet, I was invincible. But it wouldn't be very long until the voice returned, so until then, I had to make the most of my solace. I ate a good meal, at least, as good a meal you can make with microwave dinners.

By the time I had finished everything I wanted to do, it was a bit past four in the afternoon. Soon however, the dread began to set in. It was coming to the time when my waking nightmare would begin. I had been enjoying myself so much that I almost forgot about it. That's when I heard a knock at my door. I went to open the door, and saw two policemen standing in front of me. I went cold. Had I done something wrong, did I break the law? Why would police be here at my house?

"Are you Darce Williams?" One of the cops said. They were clearly armed, but their guns were still in their holsters. It didn't seem like they were going to attack me, maybe it's about stuff that happened at school. I don't remember doing anything wrong though.

"Yes." I reply cautiously, "Why do you ask?" The two policemen looked to each other with a look of faint relief, then looked back at me.

"I'm officer Fuentes, and this is my partner, officer Smith." Officer Fuentes gestures to his partner, "Would you mind coming with us to answer some questions?"

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask with both a sense of curiosity and fear. Slowly trying to move back into the house.

"That's what we're trying to figure out." Officer Smith assures me, "But, as of right now, you aren't in any trouble, so why don't you just come with us, and keep it that way?" I agree to go with them, and quietly follow them to their car. A few minutes later we arrive at the police station. Officer Smith escorts me out of the car and into the station, where a familiar face is waiting for me.

"Darce! Thank goodness you are OK!" A pretty blonde girl embraces me, her voice seemingly filled with genuine relief. "When you didn't come to school, I was so worried that you might have..." She stops before she can finish her sentence.

"Do," I stutter, "Do I know you?" She looked at me with a brief look of horror, and then sadness. She turned away to hide the tears running down her face, then looks to me and smiles.

"No, I suppose not."

I could feel a sense of defeat coming from her as she turned to walk away, hesitating for only a second before leaving the room. The two officers who brought me here, then bring me to a second room, one furnished with comfortable looking chairs and a large table. They pull out one of the chairs for me to sit in, and offer me a bottle of water before they both sit down across from me, an begin to ask me questions. I tell them about the voice that comes every night. The thoughts about ending everything, the bullies, my former friends, everything.

"I thought about it, giving up. No one listened, no one cared, so what was the point of continuing to suffer in silence. I had a good day today. I could enjoy the quiet of the day, I had a decent meal, I was happy. If every day could be like today, if I could be happy like this every day, I would. But, I can't because I will have to go back to the real world eventually, and that, to me, is terrifying."

I stopped myself before I could embarrass myself further, after all, why would these two be any different than the others. I aimed my eyes at the water bottle in front of me, half expecting them to laugh, and tell me to just ignore the voice. As I wait for their response, wishing I could just leave already, to avoid any more humiliation. What would everyone else think, I was basically just arrested. Before I could think any further, it started talking. I found myself unable to hear what the two policemen were saying. Though it's not like I cared about what they were going to tell me. But, I would rather listen to their banter than go though the hell of hearing the voice again. I could hear nothing but the voice, it's calling, it's screaming, as though it's volume had been turned up to eleven. I felt a rush of emotions come over me all at once. Fear, disgust, hatred, sadness, neglect, anger, emptiness, the list kept going. But, there was no feeling of hope, all traces of that had disappeared ages ago.

I collapsed to the ground, unable and unwilling to get back up. I couldn't stand this voice anymore, it was too much, it was too painful. I could see the two officers rushing to my side and trying to get me back in the chair, before it all went black. The voice finally quieting, but the nightmares rushing quickly to take it's place.

I awoke in a dark room, laying on a bed with white sheets. Around me were several monitors, an ever changing green line on one, and some numbers and other whatnot on the others. I found myself unable to move, as though I was being chained down by some invisible force. My eyes darted around the room, searching for anything that might free me. My eyes eventually settled on a large dark shadow standing at the foot of my bed. It gave off a sense of danger, like somehow, in that dark mass, it could hurt me. Light formed and swirled inside the figure of this thing, forming shapes, and eventually a large grin and two glowing silver eyes. It reached out for me with it's shadowy hand, and I tried to reach back. But, I still felt chained, and unable to move. Through the darkness, I could see it coming closer, slowly inching it's hand towards me, stopping just an inch from my face. No heat emanated from this things form, but still, I could somehow feel it, right there in front of me, and then it was gone.

Lights came on in the room, and I felt myself regain control of my body. A woman came rushing into the room, and stopped by my side. I didn't recognize her, but she looked to be a nurse. I must have been brought to a hospital after what happened at the police station. Come to think of it, what did happen at the police station? I couldn't seem to find a memory of how or why I was there. Who was this person who rushed to my side? Do I know them? Should I? The more I try to think, the less I actually understand.

"Who are you?" I ask with some hesitation, unsure whether or not I'm dreaming. The nurse looked to me and smiled, seemingly trying to calm me down.

"I'm the nurse that was assigned to you." The nurse told warmly, "My name is Eleanor."

"How did I get here?" I ask looking around the room, moving my arms and legs to ensure I can move without restraint. "What happened?" The nurse went on to explain how I collapsed at the police station and how I had been rushed here immediately after. Since then, I had been writhing in my sleep for almost fifteen hours. When I questioned the nurse about why I was at the police station, clear concern covered her face. It was obvious in how she acted that she was hiding something, the hesitation in her voice, and the fake smile made it all too clear. The nurse excused herself and hurried out of the room, stopping briefly to speak to another nurse, almost certainly about what she was hiding from me.

A couple hours passed with little happening, a man asked me to tell him what I remembered, and every now and then, a nurse came by to check on me. No one I knew came to visit me. It made sense I guess, as far as I knew, no one knew I was here, but I had hoped that my parents would at least care enough to check up on me. I guess my parents really didn't care. Two officers came in as well, they looked familiar, but I couldn't quite grasp why. I must have seen them at the police station when I was there. They didn't say much, but they did tell me to get better soon. It was better than nothing I guess. After a while, a doctor came in and broke the news to me after a bit of small talk, and some begging for the doctor to just tell me what was wrong with me.

"We believe that you ay have developed something called 'schizophrenia.' You are showing a very common symptom of it, which, as the policemen informed us, is a case of hearing voices in your head. Your brain also seems to be blocking out memories related to the voice, as a way of coping." The doctor went on to explain the details and gave me some suggestions on ways to help me deal with my voice a little bit better. They also said that they wanted to keep me in the hospital for a few more days to check for any other symptoms, and to keep me close to a doctor, just in case I have another blackout. I guess that to an extent, I trusted that doctor. I mean, it's a doctors job to make sure that their patient gets better. But, the things he told me, the suggestions, they all came back to the same two options I knew I couldn't take. Talk about it, or just ignore it.

Very little happened the next few days, the voice came by again, as usual. I didn't have any blackouts, no sleep either, I couldn't bring myself to face the nightmares, so for the first time in a long time, I just sat and listened. The voice was ferocious in it's attack, never ceasing for even a moment. It had an angry tone to it, one that, had I not gotten a bit used to, would scare me. But behind the anger and screaming, I could hear something different, something subtle and hidden behind the rage-filled words. The voice was beginning to let up on it's attack, with nothing new to use, it became softer, and the hidden tone slowly became more clear.

The doctor was the first to tell me that the voice was a creation of my sub-conscience, that reflected and amplified different feelings I had. I began to remember some of the things I had forgotten, though they were still hazy, I could find the memory again. But, my memory block wasn't nearly as shallow as I had imagined, I soon began to remember more of my past, and previous encounters with the voice. The thing that I saw when I first arrived at the hospital, was a bit more real than I had previously thought. I drew it several years ago, after a nightmare I had. My parents didn't care much for it, or for me for that matter. I guess that, having parents who couldn't care less about you, really screws you up in the head. I went home as soon as I was discharged from the hospital, thanks to the policemen who were kind enough to give me a ride. When I got home, I began rooting through the old stuff of mine that my parents couldn't sell off. A lot of the stuff only brought back bad memories, but occasionally I found something that made me smile. I eventually found out the name of the girl who helped me be alive today. Sela was my first real friend after I started going back to school. We even ended up dating for a bit too, but in the end, it didn't really work out. The voice still visits me every night, but no longer is it the angry scream that tormented me before. Now, it's a reminder that, I'm a pretty screwed up kid, with all the flaws and vices in the world, but that's ok, 'cause everyone else is too.

End