The VOices
They started in kindergarten, that much I know. Just little whispers, nothing crazy, but enough to make me stand out from the other kids. I was often prohibited from having playdates with my fellow schoolmates and I was certainly never favored among parents. At the tender age of five, it was difficult for me to understand why I would always hear “My mommy and daddy said you’re scary,” every time I asked to play tag with someone. Tag was always my favorite game—my most fond memories are of the nightly games of tag my parents and I would play. Looking back, it’s clear that they only felt sorry for me and wanted me to feel somewhat normal, but at the time I considered them to be my only playmates.
Well, except the voices, of course. They were constantly watching, waiting to pounce when I least expected it, inserting the familiar drone into my ear when I spoke to someone or even glanced in a person’s direction. As the years progressed, my reputation gradually deteriorated each day until it was reduced to nothing. By the time I entered high school, hardly anyone cared enough to even acknowledge my presence. I was a speck of dirt on the student body’s collective shoe, my name and face buried under the mind-numbing, all-consuming voices. At times, those quiet murmurs were both my sole companion and my worst enemy.
When I finally turned eighteen, things were starting to look up. I was planning to attend college in the fall and I had the large, beautiful expanse of summer ahead of me. That is, until that empty feeling nestled itself in my stomach and squeezed tight, not daring to let up even for a second. One cool summer night, I was perched on the side of my bed and allowing myself to succumb to the low whispering that had become ceaseless over the years. My eyes fluttered and finally closed as my head hit the soft pillow behind me, a heavy sigh escaping my lips. With a jolt, I felt my eyes snap back open as the pit in my stomach grew fuller in the dead of night. I could sense my mother’s presence before her poised knuckles gently tapped on the door and she inserted herself into my line of sight.
“Hi, sweetheart. Before I let you sleep, I was just w--” The words died on my sweet, innocuous mother’s tongue as soon as they’d come when she noticed the unmistakable sheen of thirst in my now wide-awake eyes and the pearly white glint of my teeth as my mouth curled into a smile. After all these years, I finally understood what I had to do to make those godforsaken voices stop.
Well, except the voices, of course. They were constantly watching, waiting to pounce when I least expected it, inserting the familiar drone into my ear when I spoke to someone or even glanced in a person’s direction. As the years progressed, my reputation gradually deteriorated each day until it was reduced to nothing. By the time I entered high school, hardly anyone cared enough to even acknowledge my presence. I was a speck of dirt on the student body’s collective shoe, my name and face buried under the mind-numbing, all-consuming voices. At times, those quiet murmurs were both my sole companion and my worst enemy.
When I finally turned eighteen, things were starting to look up. I was planning to attend college in the fall and I had the large, beautiful expanse of summer ahead of me. That is, until that empty feeling nestled itself in my stomach and squeezed tight, not daring to let up even for a second. One cool summer night, I was perched on the side of my bed and allowing myself to succumb to the low whispering that had become ceaseless over the years. My eyes fluttered and finally closed as my head hit the soft pillow behind me, a heavy sigh escaping my lips. With a jolt, I felt my eyes snap back open as the pit in my stomach grew fuller in the dead of night. I could sense my mother’s presence before her poised knuckles gently tapped on the door and she inserted herself into my line of sight.
“Hi, sweetheart. Before I let you sleep, I was just w--” The words died on my sweet, innocuous mother’s tongue as soon as they’d come when she noticed the unmistakable sheen of thirst in my now wide-awake eyes and the pearly white glint of my teeth as my mouth curled into a smile. After all these years, I finally understood what I had to do to make those godforsaken voices stop.