Voices [COMPLETE]

Voices

Voices

The one-

"Why don't you believe me Curtis...?" She was sobbing as she reached out for him. She cupped his cheeks. "I'm not lying..." Tears ran down the red blush on her cheek. "Help me." She hugged him now. But he tried to push her away, saying his necessary words. "Hey, it's gonna be okay...look...look at me Therese. You are fine. I believe you." "No you don't." She turned angry, furiously wiping away the wet marks the tears had left behind. "And I'm not fine you know that you...you..." she turned away from him. And ran. Towards her bedroom. Their bedroom. He heard the door slam and sighed.

What was I doing?

I sat there staring at the two bleed. One bled her soul out and the other bled his lies. I might have smiled. Once or twice, at him. For no perfect reason. My state of being at that time was unnatural. A bit sad maybe, hence explaining those smiles. (I usually smile when I'm sad. Has no relation to me being happier.)

Maybe I was expecting better. From her. All those times had spent talking...and observing...in the end, the result was futile. She let me control her.

Which, to be true, was ironical.

Sometimes I wonder. What am I? Am I her soul? Her essence of being? Or maybe something she wants to be? A ghost perhaps. Or a more subtle mirage. But when I ask her, she has it true.

I'm just a voice.

A voice, only for her. For Therese.

I never expected that she would try to share me with him.

He had his head down; contemplating his shame he opened the door. The night came in. He stepped out. The door was shut behind him. He was gone. I watched him through the window.

He paused once. To look at the blood flower bearing hibiscus. And then turned his head towards the half grown mango tree. 'To remember her' he thought. Two trees and their memories to remember a person by.

I never understand the emotions attached to the past- and their inanimate objects. I think I never will.

But Therese tells me that's because I don't exist. Because I'm not an emotional being like everyone else.

He resumed his walk towards the gate; looked back at the house, and then, the night consumed him. I faded away to Therese.

'He's gone' I say.

She sleeps and I sleep too.

*

Therese-

I think I'm prepared to be called 'mad'. It's a feeling you couldn't put down in words. You feel...rehabilitated. Yes. And then you could fly.

It's like talking to someone (something?) that you know isn't there. Even weirder, you get responses. You converse; you get consumed by what it tells you. But, in the end, it's still a voice.

A voice which should fade.

The things it says...they mean a lot. At least to me they do.

It's different- getting to know yourself. But not much different than it was to know him.

Curtis Eborn. Dark hair, drooping down to his brow-line; brown, brown eyes that seem to suck you in; and that grin that looks idiotic , yet kinda cute on him. He was just your ordinary guy.

But that's before you get to know him.

He has conflicting personas; to say in the least possible words.