I had them since I was a child, sometimes they seemed to come from the people around me, as if I could hear their thoughts; I’d shout at them, they’d look at me strangely and think I was mad.
I became so disruptive in school, my parents took me to the doctor who prescribed me so many different medications I can’t remember. Some made me feel so sick, some like a zombie. In the end, when the medication didn’t make me want to vomit or lose all my emotions, I pretended the voices were gone; I kept them to myself from then on.
It wasn’t until my teenage years that I realised I could actually hear people’s thoughts. Now that may sound like a gift, but it was a burden. I once stopped a girl committing suicide, however that just ended up with her in and out of psychiatric care. I’m not sure if she was better off now, or whether I should have let her do what she wanted in the first place.
Being out in public became an ordeal, so many different voices pushing past your own thoughts and taking center stage. It’s impossible to think. Walking down the street hearing what people’s first impressions are of me, *what an ugly fuck* – *ha, fat bastard* – *he looks depressed* – *if I looked like that I’d kill myself*
And my parents… Knowing what they really think of me. I couldn’t see them again, not after what I heard.
When I graduated high school, I drove my car. Just drove. Into the desert. With my graduation present from my parents, I put down the first two month’s rent on a house in the middle of nowhere. What bliss! No more voices. I took a part time job down at the hardware store.
Until a few weeks in, this man comes in looking shifty.
*I like the look of that spade, looks damn sharp.*
“Sharpest one we got,” I said out loud, before putting my hands to my mouth.
Puzzled he asked, “You know about these?”
“Course I do, it’s my job.”
“I’ll take it, and some of that duct tape.”
*I’m going to enjoy this* I heard, as he took his equipment and left. I ignored it, it wasn’t my business and I didn’t care. I’d gone past caring.
That night I awoken by a muffled sound. I got up and went to the kitchen to get a drink, but I could still hear it.
el – elp – help
My blood ran cold when I realised what it was. I thought back to the man, I could have stopped him.
I drove around looking for her, looking for some disturbed soil or something to indicate the ground had been touched.
I heard that woman’s screams and pleas for seven days before it stopped.
That was just the first of many. I cannot escape the voices. I’ve been trying to talk back, to comfort them, or maybe I’m just trying to comfort myself.