The Voice Inside My Head

        I have been told I am crazy, insane, psychotic, "not all there", however you wish to put it. But these things, I am not. I try to explain myself to them but they don't even try to listen or understand. The moment I bring it up, it's off to the shrink for me. I know I am not mad. I have no explanation as to why this is happening to me; why I hear The Voice, but I am not crazy.

        The first time he visited me was in my sleep. I dreamt I was falling; shooting down into a pit of nothing. I just kept plunging deep into the darkness until all of a sudden, I woke up in a cold sweat. I looked around me, feeling my way around my room, making sure I was safe. And so I thought I was. Until, suddenly, I heard a deep voice talking to me. As if someone were standing by my bedside, whispering into my ear, although, this whispering was different. It was as if it were whispering into my ears from the inside, out.

        At first, the words were inaudible. Then, as I slowly woke, my mind came into focus and I began to understand. They weren't so bad in the beginning; love, trust, happiness, he kept repeating.

        Initially, I didn't think much of the words. My concern was fixed on what was going on in my head and so, I didn't pay much attention to what he was saying.

        But eventually, the messages got more intense as time went on. Betrayal, anger, confusion and sadness. What did they mean? What was he trying to tell me? Nothing made sense, until one day, I got another idea. He was speaking to me; obviously trying to send a message. So, what if I spoke to him? I finally muster the courage and speak up.

        "Hello?" I say in a low voice, careful to make sure my parents don't hear me.

        I wait for The Voice to reply, but I am greeted by silence. Just when I think I won't hear the whisper again, it reappears.

        Hello. He says.

        "Who are you?" I whisper. There is another pause before he speaks.

        My name is Thomas Thanatos. The voice of a man replies.

        "Do I know you?"

        Yes... and no. He countered.

        I am confused and persist with my questioning. "How's that?"

        We are quite alike, you and I.

        "How is that possible? You don't even know me!" I say with conviction.

        Oh, but I do. We live similar lives. You have experienced an awful situation. He states. You revealed our secret to someone. Someone who then betrayed your trust. You lost everything.

        He does know me. How is that possible? He was just a voice.

        You see, I too suffered from a similar experience, still suffer, even after twenty-five years of resting six feet under.

        "I still don't understand who you are, what you want."

        Onyx, my dear. He sighs and I cringe at the sound of him saying my name. He really does know a lot about me. Too much. There is something I need you to do. A task I wish to accomplish, but unfortunately cannot.

        "Why me?" I cry.

        Because I know you will understand where I am coming from. I very desperately need this to be done. And when this business is done and over with, I will leave you alone. You can continue your life, madness-free.