The Sound of My Voice

Chapter 1

When I woke up that morning, I knew something about today was going to be different, but I never thought it would turn out the way it did. I was walking back from the music repairman’s shop with my guitar. That idiot fixed most of my guitar but he didn’t have the strings for the guitar, so you can imagine I was pissed because I had to walk all the way to the next music store to buy the right kind of strings for my strat. And because of this little ordeal, I missed the subway by about five minutes and I had to catch the next one, making me get home later than I had wanted to. Not only that, it started to rain. Don’t get me wrong, I love the rain, even more than sunshine… just not when I’m carrying something valuable that isn’t supposed to get wet.

 I fumbled with the keys and finally opened the door to my cheap San Francisco apartment building and climbed the stairs till I reached the third floor, where my apartment was, 303F. I unlocked the door and entered my apartment, exhausted and pissed. It was a small apartment: one living room, one bedroom, a bathroom, a laundry room and a kitchen. I couldn’t afford anything else cuz I’m a college student at the Conservatory of music and it cost me and my parents an arm and a leg to get me in, therefore I have to pay rent out of my own damn pocket with the money I earn as a bartender or street performer.

I went to the fridge to grab a beer, and then I remembered I was all out this week, which pissed me off even more. Still I looked to see what I could find and Lo and behold! I found the last Anchor Steam beer in the very back. I popped the bottle open and sat on my old couch, turning on the lamp I had nearby and grabbing a book to read while I had my beer. It’s an old book a friend of mine gave me. She’s into fairy tales and all that mysticism crap, but she said this one’s cool. Like Lord of the Rings or something. So this one’s supposed to be myths and legends about gods and I read through a few chapters about the different gods and their enemies. The king of these gods was a dude called Odin and he had two sons: Thor and Loki, God of Thunder and God of Mischief. Odd pairing, I know. Thunder and Mischief? It would be a good title for song though. Anyway, the different worlds and dimensions were supposed to be connected and this guy was supposed to be guarding the gates to the different worlds. He’s also supposed to be able to see everything, like Santa or some shit like that.

It was around eleven or something that I quit reading that amusing little piece of literature and decided to hit the sack. I needed to get up early the next day to refill the ‘fridge with food and stuff because I was getting tired of having TV dinners and leftovers every night. I changed into my pijamas, a t-shirt and boxer shorts before putting the book under my pillow, don’t ask me why, and I lay down, trying to get some shut-eye. I probably conked out quickly because of the beer because when I opened my eyes it was two-thirty in the morning, according to my alarm clock. I heard footsteps in my room and maybe it was because it was early or because I was buzzed last night that I didn’t realize that footsteps in my room was so strange it was wrong. I lived alone, of course, which is why this was so wrong but I just groaned, “Could you cut that shit out? It’s two in the fucking morning. Go away…”

Suddenly the footsteps sped up and in no time there was a hand around my neck. I quickly realized this could be a robber and I thanked my mom for putting me in karate when I was a kid, even though I hated it. Reflexes kicked in and I shifted my weight quickly under my attacker and took a swing at him in the face. The dark silhouette flinched and pulled back, not in pain, surprisingly enough, but in shock, as if he didn’t expect me to fight back instead of cower in fear. Hah. Idiot. Or maybe that was me, because he quickly pinned me against the wall by my wrists next to my window. The small amount of light coming through the blinds illuminated his face, revealing his features: a tall-ish man, slender but lean, angular face, black Albert Wesker-slick hair and green eyes that, somehow, seemed out of place, like they hissed at me. But I didn’t give a rat’s ass at the time, this ass hole was going to hurt me. “Why don’t you rob someone else’s apartment, bud? I ain’t got nothing worth taking, I’m even all out of booze—“ “Silence!” He snapped at me and this pissed me off even more. I tried to struggle but he only tightened his grip and I was surprised by how strong the guy actually was. “Don’t you tell me to shut up, ass hole.” That seemed to piss him off enough to let go of one of my wrists for a split second to move his fist into my mouth to gag me.