Silence truly is bliss. It's a shame that the only thing that allows me to experience such bliss is the wet that spatters my skin and dirties my clothes when those seemingly endless, mocking voices win. Once it's over, it's silent. No more ciphered mutters echoing in my mind, just silence. I can breathe, I can think my thoughts, I can see and understand everything clearly, I am myself, I am nothing more.
I can't say when the voices started, I do know they became more prominent around 12 or 13, that's when other's started noticing something was off.
My parents said I was graced with hearing prophecies - the voices have always been omniscient, seemingly knowing more than I would ever understand, spewing confusing messages of what's to come, what horrid things I'd be forced to witness and partake in. My parents wanted me to listen to the voices, to allow them to take over so I could become some kind of oracle. They wouldn't understand that the voices weren't like that, they had their own personalities, they'd taunt me and harass me endlessly. I thought I had them under control, I thought I hid the fact there was something wrong with me well.
Throughout high school I knew I fidgeted a lot, I never focused and I always looked a mess - baggy eyes, unkempt hair, wrinkled clothes. I liked playing guitar, that's probably the only thing that kept me from being brutally torn apart by the teenage social hierarchy. I was good at it and it calmed the voices down, if only for a little while. This talent is what got me invited to a Halloween party. I showed up, I played a few songs, I went upstairs to seclude myself in the bathroom until I was ready to go home, that was the plan anyway.
Once I made my way up the stairs to hide away I ran into a girl, she had long fluffy brown hair and was wearing a bee costume 3 sizes too small. I can't remember what she said, it was probably pointless flirting. She dragged me into a room. I wanted to hide away because the voices were loud, but they were getting louder. It was becoming unbearable. Hurt her. Stab her. Bite her. Blood. Blood. They started echoing, I was sat on the bed, everything going dark then coming back to reality. I felt like I barely had a grip. Blood. Hurt her. Bite her. She was on top of me, the noise became too agonizing so I obeyed, I grabbed her hand and felt my teeth break through skin, with all my might I heard the nauseating cracking of bone echo throughout my mouth and out my ears. Warm liquid dripped down my chin as the blood-curdling screams ensued. I spit out her finger, shoved her frozen-in-shock body off of mine and made a run for the door. Quiet. The sounds of the party became background noise, I could hear my own thoughts for once. It was almost euphoric and once I reached the door and pushed my way out, it was pure, complete silence.
Silence all night, silence walking home, silence walking into the house, seeing my sister's confused expression when she saw my blood-covered mouth, and best of all, silent sleep.
I started training. How to fight, how to evade. Sword training, knife training, gymnastics, ballet, anything that could get me agile enough, strong enough, quick enough. Fighting could be my escape from the voices, shedding blood could set me free.
One night when I was around 15 I awoke to the voices practically screaming. He needs to die now. The garage. Your drawer. He needs to die by your hand. I hardly remember groggily grabbing my dagger from my drawer and mindlessly slowly making my way to the garage where our father was doing a midnight project in his "mancave". The door creaked open and he turned to me. I, lifting my dagger and him, his face full of terror as he went to grab my wrist. I flipped the knife into my other hand and slit his throat. Another slice. I felt the corners of my lips turn up as the voices wailed in excitement. Again. Again. Again again again again. I kept slashing, blood practically showering me. I finally got myself to pull away and go back inside. Your mother. Her favorite bottle of wine. Smash it. Kill her. I heard myself laughing, albeit quietly over the voices absolutely rampaging in their delight. I grabbed her bottle of wine and smashed it against the counter and made my way to her sleeping quarters. No way in hell did that not wake my sister, it definitely awoke mother. I walked in as she was stirring from her slumber, lifted the shattered bottle and got ready to bring it down.
"Jinksie?" Was all she could croak out in her terrified state.
I felt myself snap back, I wanted to bring the bottle down upon her more than anything. My grip kept tightening as she kept repeating my name in terror. I heard the bottle shatter and felt the cool sting of glass tearing apart my palm and wrist. I let go and without being able to hear myself, without being able to understand what was going on, I ran. I ran and didn't look back, I ran until I felt I had fled my home far enough. I allayed down and wailed as the voices screamed in disappointment.
