Hallucinatory Tribulation Vol. 1 [Anthology]

Cracked Diamond

The voices in my head echoed as loudly as each approaching footstep in the hollow auditorium where I sat organizing the last few props. The owners of the two sets of sounds had already entered battle with the other. One engaged out of sheer boredom and the second simply because it was her prerogative to be chatty.

"Oh wow! Everything looks great!" the blonde woman bounced around the stage, admiring the work I'd recently finished with.

Shut your face, Karla.
Useless.
Pretty Karla and her pretty throat. You could finish this so easily.

"Thanks," I smiled, "John told me about Amy being sick and still having to take care of the twins. I thought she could use a little extra help getting things together for the play."

Like you really care.
Such a liar.
Worthless.
It's in your pocket, grab it, grab it!

"You're such a sweetheart, Morgan," Karla stepped closer to me, holding out her arms for a hug.

I hesitated, but accepted the embrace, vibrating nervously the whole time whilst trying to ignore the commands and random statements bounding in my skull. I was a nice person, I really was, but they...they hated me. They wanted me to be evil, wanted me to do evil things, and I simply refused. I could handle this. I could control myself.

Grab it!
She's right there, shut her up.
Where? where?
Listen!

"Anyway," I awkwardly pulled away from the woman, averting my eyes from her to glance around the endless rows of red seats, "I better get going. I'm sure the cat bowl is empty and he's now contemplating my murder."

"Oh hush," Karla laughed, not making any notice of my deliberate motions to neither touch nor look at her, "Reginald is fine. Why don't you come hang out with the rest of theatre group this evening? We're gonna order pizza at my place."

My gaze found her again and I was staring dumbly. Mind barely registering the invitation, having been stuck on one minor detail, I replied somewhat weirdly, "You remembered my cat's name."

"Well, uh- yeah," her chortling seemed strained, "I love cats. So you gonna come over then?"

Reginald was my only real friend since I kept a small circle. By that, I meant I'd see a handful of people regularly at the college, but never had in depth conversations or spent time with anyone outside of school except maybe my roommate. I didn't feel comfortable being around others for extended periods of time. Perhaps it was due to a bit of paranoia which I had been accused of before, though I didn't see myself as paranoid. If anything, I was justly cautious. People couldn't be trusted for sure and moreover, it was hard to trust myself. Despite having been an extrovert my entire life, I now found myself having a lot of trouble relaxing in social situations.

"I appreciate that, but-"

"Morgan!" I was cut short by the sound of a new person calling my name. It was Amy.

"Dude, you're obviously still sick," Karla protested as the red faced, stuffy-nosed woman marched up the stage steps, "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to catch Morgan and ask a huge favor," she turned toward me with puppy dog eyes that may have been more convincing if her face didn't look like a wet puffy cherry, "Can you fill in for me? I'm not getting any better. Doc thinks it could be pneumonia and now the girls are sick too."

Typical.
These people are using you.
They don't care and neither do you.
Slit her throat. It's in your pocket.
Shhh...

"I would have just called you, but I realized I don't have your number," the actress shrugged, "Neither does John. So...? I'd owe you big time!"

Nobody had my phone number except my parents, roommate, and therapist since I had come to find that having a person's cell meant they were more likely to invite you places and subsequently, if you kept declining offers, they would begin acting strange around you, thinking that you just didn't like them. So, to avoid such scenarios, these digits remained private. If I felt the need to chat with friends, I instant messaged people on the internet.