Ralph Ganger sighed contentedly as he sat in his velvet chair after a hard day's work. Well, his definition of what he considered a hard day's work. His secretary had been exceptionally busy today, making up excuses for why Ganger couldn't make a meeting while he worked on his short game in his cavernous office in Canary Wharf. Ralph reached for the Scotch on his right and a tumbler to pour it into, believing he had made enough progress for a celebratory nightcap.
Normally Ralph would have had Frederick, his personal butler pour him his drink, but he had fallen ill the night before and Ganger had grudgingly given him the week off to recover. Ralph's stomach rumbled, a side effect of his private helicopter ride back to his Edinburgh mansion on the outskirts of the city proper. Shrugging it off and toasting the air, he downed the Scotch in one go, the alcohol burning his throat as it went down his swollen gullet. Here's to my financial success, he noted selfishly in the silence, not saying it aloud even though there was no chance of anyone hearing him. However, as he thought that selfish thought, something rather peculiar happened.
The silence replied.
Cheers. Ralph jumped, spilling ice over his red velvet robe. Looking around wildly, Ralph searched for a culprit but found none. Funny, he thought. It's almost as if it came from my thoughts. Yet I heard it.
You heard it.
Ralph, again startled by the disembodied voice, began to grow worried.
"Who's there?" he said aloud, thinking stupidly that he may stump the voice.
You are. He heard it echo through his mind, as if a thought from his own head coming to the front. As usual for a man who didn't have to really "work" for a living, Ralph was confused.
"Who is you?" Ralph stammered in the improper grammatical format, clutching his head in frustration. He stumbled around the room, grabbing a nearby letter opener for protection against the unseen intruder.
You are. I am you. The voice was growing stronger, weakening Ralph's confusion. A voice in my head is claiming to be me? That makes perfect sense.
Of course it does. You are talking only to yourself. Ralph relaxed, finding no need for his improvised weapon. However, as he tried to drop it, his hand was unresponsive. In fact, his entire body was now moving of its own volition towards the center of the room.
You are very sad, Ralph. Depression has led you to your demise. Ralph couldn't remember being sad before, but now he felt an overwhelming wave of sadness. Suddenly his right hand leapt up and brandished the letter opener in front of him, its point towards Ralph's chest.
It will be over soon. Don't worry. It will be over soon. Ralph experienced a wave of fear before he experienced darkness.