Back in the suffocating gray silence, poison once again worming its way through her system, but that's okay, that's okay. She's used to it, and it doesn't bother her the way it used to, because-because-
Because her vortex of a mind is purging itself of her thoughts.
The shadow crosses her mind many times, a face that she can both see and hear. She sees his slanted eyes, she hears shrieking laughter and silent tears. She sees his pasty skin, she hears scathing remarks and acidic thoughts (acid, like the acid pouring through her veins, but different-different because this acid is cutting off her drug-that acid is-was-cutting off his antidote). She sees his black, black hair, she hears snipping scissors and crunching bone.
Yes, she can hear him in a way she has never heard anyone else, and that makes her wonder, makes her think-
What else can she listen to?
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Bonus Question: Does anyone know what I'm referring to? It's a bit vague, but pretty widespread.
YOU ARE READING
These Voices In My Head
Short Story"A sane person to an insane society must appear insane." -Kurt Vonnegut "i can't find my way out" In which a girl with schizophrenia finds herself locked in an asylum. "the silence haunts me" Her only sanctuary is the scarlet garden that spreads bey...
