Sometimes the voices did stop.
The doctors would give her odd jobs around the hospital to keep both her hands and mind busy. They were monotonous jobs like sweeping the floor or washing the dishes. Milla didn't mind. She liked being useful and cleaning gave her an hour or so of peace.
But when the job was done and there was nothing else to do, the voices came back.
It was faulty fire detectors to blame. By the time the children realized what was happening, it was too late for them to escape.
Milla couldn't explain why she heard their voices. Her doctors said through her guilt and over active imagination, she had envisioned their faces and voices.
But could that really be the case? It was her over active imagination?
Lucas, the boy with chubby cheeks and curly hair; the one who cried, "It's hot! It's hot!" was just her imagination?
Or how about Teresa? The girl with short black hair and always carried a doll; she hid in the closet and quietly sobbed, "Help me Milla. Help me…" Was that her imagination too?
It was the only logical explanation. How else could you explain why she could hear the voices of her twelve lost children?
And like an ignored cavity, it only got worse. Soon, nothing could drown out the voices. Not chores, not art; she even went so far to take medication. The pills only made both her mind and body sick.
The only thing that seemed to help was total isolation. Placed in a room with padded walls, with nothing to stimulate her, remind her, or distract her, did the voices finally died down. They were now more like fevered whispers, constantly hissing in her ear.
Help us Milla!
It burns!
It's so hot…so hot!
Where are you Milla?
"I'm sorry…" Is all she could say to them. "I'm sorry."
It was a particular wet day in late November. It's been raining since the early hours of the morning and had not let up since. Unlike Lucinda, who thought herself as mermaid and spent the whole day outside, Milla watched the rain from the small window of her white room. The roar of the rain barely drowned out the voices in her mind. She did not notice the door to the white room opened until her doctor broke her out of her trance.
"Milla," The gentle voice of Dr. Costillo said. "I want you to meet someone."
Milla turned around. And standing next to her doctor were two men. The first one she laid eyes on, wore an expensive dark blue suit, with leather shoes and…could her eyes deceive her?...diamond cufflinks. His face was that of a confident man, but he had permanent bags under his eyes and flicks of grey in his hair.
The man standing next to him held no air of confidence, but that of absoluteness. He was taller than his companion, and even though he had no grey hair or bags under the eyes, he still looked rather sickly. His pale skin gave the idea he hadn't seen the sun in years. He wore a white lab coat and she could smell the cigarettes wafting from him.
Milla couldn't be sure of the bags under his eyes; this man wore rather large sunglasses that covered much of his features.
"Milla, this is Truman Zanotto," He introduced the rich looking man. "And this is Sasha Nein."
"Hello," She said politely, keeping her distance.
The sickly man, Sasha Nein, suddenly strode forward, raising his hand towards her face. Milla took steps back and raised her arms in defense. "What are you doing?"
Nein paused. "Helping you," He spoke in a German accent. "Dr. Costillo told me about the voices. If you let me, I can quiet them."
She backed away when he reached out for her again. He sighed frustrated and looked to his companion. Zanotto had a smile twitching at his lips and spoke, "Miss Vodello, Sasha here is an expert in cases like yours. If you could let him-"
Milla had enough. "No!" She spoke. "Dr. Costillo, how could you bring such strange men to me? Get out, all of you!"
"Then what are you going to do about little Teresa or Lucas?" Zanotto stepped forward. "Are you going to answer their calls or ignore them?"
Milla's blood ran cold. "How do you…"
"There's a lot of things I know Miss Vodello. I know you haven't slept a full night sleep since last year. I know that you like helping the other patients here write letters to their loved ones. I also know that for some strange reason, unknown to yourself, you can sense the feelings of the people around you- especially children…Which is why you can get close to someone without even talking to them."
Milla's mouth hung wide open. In a low tone, she asked, "How do you know all these things?"
Zanotto pulled out a card and gave it to her.
Psychonauts
Protecting and advancing the minds of the sensitive and of the mundane
"Psychonauts…? I don't understand."
"All will be explained. But it's better if it's done through a demonstration. If you could allow Sasha to help you, this can all go very fast."
Milla hesitated. Everything this man said made no sense. Psychonauts? What the hell is that? He knew all that stuff, but anybody who read her file could've known that. She trusts Dr. Costillo with her life, and he apparently trusts in these men…Logic screamed at her that she should keep her distance. Something about these men were 'off' and they should leave right now.
Yet her heart told her it was okay.
Everything is going to be all right.
With a hint of tears in her eyes, she nodded.
Nein came to her once again, raising his hand to her face. Instead of touching her eyes or cheek like she thought, he instead placed two fingers against her forehead.
"I can't get rid of the voices," He told her. "I can only quiet them."
"It's all right," She said, closing her eyes. "I don't want them to go away."
What happened next, she couldn't really explain. She thought he would perform some hypnosis trick and tell her to slowly fall asleep. In a simple count of three, the voices, the images, suddenly went away.
She gasped and backed away from Nein. Touching her head, she whispered, "They're gone. The children…I can't hear them anymore," She looked up to Nein in horror wonder and said. "Did you get rid of them-?"
"No," He said. "I merely locked them away in a mental vault. You can visit them anytime, but it's now your job to keep them there or else they'll run amok."
Such strange words he used. Wiping away the tears she didn't know she shed, she turned to Zanotto and asked, "These Psychonauts…is that what you are?"
"The protectors of the sensitive and mundane," He said rather proudly. "Our…team is small at this point, but I believe you'll make a great addition, Miss Vodello."
"Addition? What are you talking about?"
Zanotto's stomach unexpectedly grumbled at that moment. It gave off a low drumming noise then turned into a loud erupting growl. With an embarrassed grin, he said, "Can we discuss this over lunch? Or else I'm afraid my stomach will turn into a bear."
Milla gave a half-hearted smile at the cheap joke. Dr. Costillo snorted. Nein stayed indifferent.
Milla Vodello looked out the window and saw the sun finally streaming through the stopping rain. She stood there quietly, trying to listen for the voices that assaulted her for the past months. None came. The silence was strange to her. She spent so long hearing their voices, hearing their pleas, was it really all right for her to let go?
Milla, read us a story!
Milla, could you brush my hair?
Teach me how to tie my shoes, Milla!
But she wasn't letting go. She was simply exchanging the memories.
She sighed. She probably won't ever forgive herself, but…maybe the children will. And for her, that's enough.
"I can eat," Milla grinned. "I'll cook," She tugged at Nein's arm. "You look like you need it."
"Excuse me?"
End.