A/N: Hi! I went back and edited the previous chapters; it's mostly small edits- more description, the argument with herself, I think, is now more clear, etc.- but there is a major edit of plot in the previous chapter, (if you don't want to re-read the whole thing, it's mostly in the last quarter of chapter three that matters for plot,). Thank you all for reading this story, though- I hope you like it! :)
The house was very quiet after Mom left; the only sounds were the clicking of the air conditioning and the faint rush of water. These sounds only seemed to amplify how quiet the house was, though,
You could have filled the silence with her screams-
No!
I shook my head, grabbing at my hair. I was not going to think that. I was not going to think that. Holding my breath, I glanced up at the clock. Only six hours had passed since I had- since I had saved my sanity. And they were already coming back. I pushed my thumbs into my temples, scowling down at the carpet. What was I going to do? Keep killing?
Yes, please, please do-
Stop!
I took a deep breath, the air shuddering through my lungs. I need to think. I need to think. Biting my lip, looking down at my hands, I realized I had no idea what I even needed to consider first. A feeling pushed its way through my chest- sadness, hopeless, despair… I couldn't identify it; all I knew was that it was not positive. A lump formed in my throat, quite suddenly, and it hurt to breathe. What the fuck could I do?
I turned in a slow circle, hoping that would get me somewhere, that something in the room- the wizards, that stupid vacuum cleaner, the pillows- would trigger something, some brilliant idea that would give me all the answers, that would give me a resolution.
Shockingly, it didn't.
A few more minutes passed by as I stood there, thinking about how I needed to think of ways to stop this. It was stupid; I know it was stupid, but it was like my mind had dropped all of its thoughts, all of its solutions, all of it except for the most basic parts, leaving me feeling empty due to the lack of thinking. All I could think about was how I needed to be thinking something else. I tried to, forcing my way through these thoughts to muse over the one I actually needed to think about, but it got too complicated, too difficult, and I wandered back to the first thought- an easier thought that gave the illusion of production.
I was a fool.
After the clock chimed the quarter hour, I shifted, waiting for the silence to descend again. Finally, after the last few chimes of a tune I had heard since childhood but still could not give a name to faded away, there was silence.
Almost.
It took a second, but then I realized there was an undercurrent. Not that of the water or the air, but of something else. Some other noise. A noise that sent a shiver down my spine. My heart leapt to my throat, joining the lump, and I tilted my head to the side, listening, trying to hear more even though I told myself to start talking aloud, so that I wouldn't hear whatever it was, so I wouldn't figure out what it was.
My ears straining, the air frozen in my lungs, the undercurrent of noise became louder, wordless whispers that seemed to come from-
Oh.
Oh.
My head.
There was no noise outside in the room- my ears were hearing nothing, but- the whispers, they were growing in my head. I choked on the lump that had formed in my throat earlier, and a tear slid down my cheek. I shouldn't have listened. I shouldn't have listened.
They really were back there, awake, now.
Deciding to go up to my room- to knit, to research, to sleep… to do something in a place where the silence wasn't so strong, to distract myself or to shut myself off, to do something other than listen- It was unnerving, how I could hear their whispers in the back on my mind- nothing I could make out, but once I realized they were there, I couldn't stop hearing them.
I wanted school. I wanted Mom. I wanted my cat. I wanted one of my friends- the ones I stopped talking to nearly two years ago, when the hatred for them became too strong. Suddenly, I wanted them so, so much. It hit me like a punch to the gut- the desire to talk to them, to see their text colors and little smilie faces and all the exclamation points was so strong I felt like I was going to vomit.
I had been climbing the first stairs slowly, but now I was running, rushing around corners and sliding into walls, desperate to get to my room. I flew in through the door, and then whirled around and slammed it shut behind me, like what I wanted to keep away was physical, like a door could stop the whispers, stop the thoughts. I was breathing heavily, though I hadn't exerted myself, tears blurring my vision, mixing everything together, the purples and reds of my room swimming before me, the whispers growing louder and louder, yelling over my breathing, and I could hear them I would always hear them because I didn't need ears to hear them and i
had
to
get
rid
of
them.
With a rasping breath, I fell to my knees, screaming in my mind, trying to overpower the whispers.
Get out! Get OUT! Get out get out getoutgetoutgetoutgetoutGETOUT!
It was too much, too much, is this how it felt when they first came? Was there a first time? Why was this so painful?
I lifted my head, looking at the window, at where I knew the window was, because right now it was only a white mixed in with the other colors and I wanted needed to
shatter it draw blood with the glass cut the throats of those lesser than you
Get out of here get away from here crawl away and never come back drown myself drown them in the river
drown them too take them down hold them under watch the air bubbles float away
break the window bring my blood bleed them out of me get them OUT
we will always be
I screamed, then, a scream that I couldn't hear, that I wouldn't be sure even sounded if my vocal chords weren't vibrating, if, when I woke up hours later, lying on my floor, my face stiff with tears, my throat hadn't been more sore than it ever had been before.
And they were still whispering.
I pushed myself up, my arms shaky, my legs jerky as I walked over to my laptop, unopened, powered down for so many years. Opening it up, pushing down the power button, I watched as the screen brightened, showing my old wallpaper, my old documents, the old chatting application.
I opened it up, logging myself in for the first time in two years and three months, barely remembering my password and username, trying to drown out the whispers that were louder than before in the back of my mind without thinking anything.
I glanced to the side, my little icon lit up. Something rotten swirled in my stomach, the thought that they might not even use this application, that they might not have remained in contact with one another, that they would even be on right now- It was unlikely that any of my old friends would also be here. I clapped a hand over my mouth, holding in a sob, and went to shut down before I could really see how empty it would be.
Just as I was about to log out, though, one of the icons lit up. Almost immediately, a message chimed in.
- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 13:27 -
TG: rose
TG: rose are you actually on
TG: holy shit rose whereve you been
TG: rose
TG: answer me
TG: goddamn it are you fucking serious
TG: you disappear for years and suddenly your shitty little icon lites up
TG: and youre not even going to respond
TG: if this is a glitch im going to complain to the company
Another fresh tear slid down my cheek, and I choked.
TT: Dave.
TG: fuck you are on
TG: where have you been
TG: weve been really worried
TG: theyve been really worried
TG: john the fucking idiot that he is thought you died
TG: but i said no nope not rose
TG: shes just off in usbekastan or some shit psychoanalyzing the poor
TG: was i right
TG: youre okay right
TT: I
TT: I need help.
TT: Please.