Another Rosemary Kennedy

Sometimes when I am sitting alone in a dark room, unmoving, I can hear someone else talk. A voice, no different from my own, awakens. The restless nights when I can't sleep, instead I lay awake in the dark with my eyes open smoking a cigarette. That is when It chooses to come out of hiding from the darkest corners of my head. It starts lightly scratching away at my sanity, I barely notice it at first. But then the intensity of the scratching increases until I feel as if I will go mad. Then it stops, no longer scratching, clawing, digging at the invisible wall in my mind that holds insanity and It at bay. Now it starts whispering. It knows it has my attentions now. At first it sounds like the wind, but I know better. The whispers turn into a conversation like tone, discussing all of the things that lurk in the dark. At home, It is my only company. The voice in my head doesn't let me escape through sleep. As soon as I am slipping under, it will yell about gruesome things that burn images into my mind. I sit until morning, having no choice but to let it taunt me and try to drink my despair away. When it talks of death and destruction, my head tickles.

"Look," it jeers, " the ground is so far away, it would be a shame to jump. Your family and everyone else in this pathetic world will burn, and your ashes will blow away, and you all will be forgotten." It insults itch. I claw at my hair, hoping to relieve the sensation. "You fat, ugly, little insignificant creature, who could ever stand the sight of you. You're so ignorant and naïve. Nobody wants you; you are a burden. I scratch my head to make it stop. The sound of thunder floods my ears, drowning It out but only momentarily. I claw at my scalp and rake my face with my nails in a mad fury. Something warm flows down my face and into my mouth. Iron. I scratch harder, pulling out chunks of hair that fall into a pile around me. The voice laughs and laughs mocking me as scraps of my own flesh get wedged under my ragged nails. My limbs are growing heavy, and I realize I am laying in a puddle of blood on my bed. It had soaked into my milky sheets.

"Goodnight, sleep tight. Don't let the demons bite." It sneered. My body fell back, landing on my soaked sheets that squelched. I closed my eyes for what seemed like the last time. I stared at my cell phone lying an arms length away and pondered calling for help. I hit redial, butt's already too late. Now I can finally sleep.

I wake up, seeing only darkness and panic filled me. This is not what death is supposed to be like. The voice in my head is gone, for now. I can hear people whispering. I sit up, crying for help. Gentle hands push me down and tell me I lost a lot of blood and my head needs to heal. She says that I am safe, at a hospital not too far from my house. She says she'll come back later to change the bandages encompassing my head, and I shouldn't touch them. She leaves, and it's quiet; my heart pounds, expecting the voice to speak up. I impatiently wait. Finally, it sneers,

"You can't leave me, and I'll never leave you. After all, I'm living in your pathetic mind." I start screaming and clawing at my bandages. Within seconds orderlies are restraining me. I think a pinch of a needle as a nurse roughly sedates me. It's hard to tell how long I was out, but when I woke up I heard my areas conversing with an unknown man- most likely a doctor.

"How long has she been off her meds?" he asked. "We don't know, it isn't my job to babysit her. She is a grown woman" replied my parents, "But probably long enough for her hallucinations to get out of control again." "Well," stated the doctor I was beginning to dislike, "She does have that most unusual case of schizophrenia I've ever seen. Instead of multiple hallucinations or paranoia, it's just one, the voice inside her head that she talks about. Unfortunately, we can't do anything else but institutionalize her or try an experimental remedy."

"We can't afford to put her somewhere. Our youngest daughter is going to Harvard, and we can't spare the money. What is the cost of this treatment?" I began to panic, there is nothing wrong with me, it was the voice. It heard me think and laughed, "Look, mommy and daddy will do anything to get rid of you!" The doctor goes on describing the surgery, something called lobotomy, where they stick a pole through my eye and alter my brain. The doctor said I'll be cured and improved, not only will the voice go away, but I will be serene. That doesn't sound too bad. Why resist? It hurt, the pole. The voice was screaming to stop them, but I just laid there. It shut up, eventually. I assume they killed the part of the brain where the voice was hiding. A lot of time passed I think. My face healed, and they took of the bandages.

It's hard to keep track of time. I don't know why. I don't think it matters. The people are nice, and the chocolate shakes taste yummy. I was daydreaming about walking in the forest with animals when my parents came to pick me up.

"Lucy sweetheart, it's time to go home now." my mom said plainly as she stood there waiting for me to get up. "Okay." I stood up and shuffled after her out of the door. She got me a doll. It looks like me. It had black hair and droopy blue eyes. I didn't always look like that though. People show me pictures of me before the nice doctor fixed me. I looked bad, but now I am a good girl and mommy and daddy leave me at home with a babysitter. They don't talk to me, but that's okay. I get to play with my things. I like that.