Voices

“You better get up, Timothy,” his mom shouted as she knocked on the outside of his locked bedroom door. “You’re going to be late for school.”

“I don’t care, mom. I’m not going to school today.”

“Are you sick?”

“No, I’m just not going.”

She knocked a few more times but Timothy put a copy of Led Zeppelin’s Physical Graffiti on the turntable to drown his mom out.

Timothy lay on his bed nude getting lost in the music. He felt good being next to himself and living in any fantasy he desired.

He figured that the earliest human beings had no clothes and being nude brought him closer to our most primal instincts. Plus he got a thrill from feeling his tight 17-year-old body.

“I hate school,” Timothy thought. “Maybe I’ll quit and do some nude modeling. I can be the guy posing in an art class.”

Timothy lay there thinking about how he could be in charge of his destiny. He could be his own man.

As he thought more and more about this, his subconscious mind took over and the voices in his head began speaking.

“Do it, Timothy. Quit school. Do something for yourself. Forget the others. Forget everything, Timothy. Nothing matters, not even God. Do it Timothy walk out in the streets naked for all humanity to see your vulnerability and your manhood. Do it Timothy. Hold it in your hand and be proud. Go ahead Timothy, do it. Become a man today, Timothy. Cut yourself and let the blood flow. Free yourself, Timothy. Be your own man Timothy. Take charge of your…”

Suddenly Timothy came out of his trance-like thoughts, “Wait,” he thought, “What was that? What did you say?” Timothy asked his conscience. “Did you say; cut yourself?” “Yes, you did.”

Timothy got up from his bed and took a double sided razor blade and proceeded to cut in. He closed his eyes and cocked his head upward. He cut in at the wrist and dragged the blade upward. He felt ecstasy and comfort shouting out, “Thank you, God, thank you, Goddess, thank you, High Priest.”

Timothy began to feel weak but kept following the commands of the dark inner voice as he walked toward his bedroom door and opened it. He took one step out of the bedroom and fell over the edge of the cliff down into the valley of doom.

An hour later, Timothy’s mom found him lying nude outside his door, in a pool of blood.

Three days later Timothy finally awoke from a traumatic coma. His mom was sitting in a chair in the hospital room in deep prayer, with her eyes closed and hands clasped.

Timothy watched her for a moment. She looked like an Angel with her caring eyes closed and her delicate head nodding downward.

“Mom,” he said, “You’re here.”

“Yes, of course, my pretty boy. I will always be here for you no matter what.”

She walked over to his bed and hugged him.

“What happened? Why did you do this, my son?”

“Mom it was those voices, lurking in the shadows mingling with my thoughts. They told me to run outside naked and to cut myself. They told me to cut myself. That’s all I heard ‘cut in’.”

“I love you, Timothy.” She said with tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I know you do, Mom. Your love gives me the strength to carry on. You’re the only one that believes in me 100%.”

“I do believe in you, Timothy. I found this on your desk, dated April 27, 2024. You wrote it on the day you cut yourself.”

Timothy took the paper and read the poem aloud.

Cut In to Cut Out

Cut in for love

Cut in to be free

Cut in for the dove

Cut in to be

Cut out the demons

Cut out the hate

Cut out for freedom

Cut out for fate

Cut out the fear

Cut out the night

Cut out the tears

Cut in for light

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Voices (Part Two) is available here:

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This story is for Randy Baker's Prompted #4 Challenge

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The story is based on a poem I wrote entitled The Psyche's Canvas

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I live with a person that suffers from mental health issues. She hears voices in her head. If you or someone you know struggles with this please call the Mental Health Hotline at 866-903-3787

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With Love, RHC ❤️