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Where do we go to get away from the voices inside?
Easy-to-Read B&W Format
Fiction
Horror
Kyle relished the cool morning wind whipping through his hair. The purr of the convertible’s motor blending with the whine of the transmission reminded Kyle he didn't own this car.
Visitors to the mental hospital would sometimes leave their cars unlocked. He jumped at such opportunities to get away. To speed to the only place he could find where the voices couldn’t haunt him.
Is this as fast as you can go? Zach's voice sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard.
He’s already racing, don’t encourage him, Wanda said.
Kyle pushed down on the pedal. The tires squealed around a curve.
See? Wanda said. You’re going to get us killed.
“He’s not the only one who pushed me!” Kyle banged his fist on the dash. “Shut up! Both of you.”
Kyle, you know we can’t stop, Zach said.
Some appreciation for attempting to save your hide, Wanda said.
Kyle banged his fist on his forehead. “Go away, leave me alone!”
Seconds ticked by.
Can you make us go away? I don’t think so! Zach’s laugh rang in his head.
Kyle narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He only had to survive for a few more minutes. Just stay sane, that’s all he had to do.
Wanda giggled. He’s right, Kyle. You carry us with you everywhere. You cannot silence us.
“That’s what you think,” Kyle said. Just around the curve, redemption would meet him: home.
You’re delusional, Kyle. Delusional, I tell you. Zach's words echoed in his mind. Don’t fight us. Listen to--
Kyle rounded a corner. His childhood home burst into view. Images from the past flooded his mind. The man crashing through the door, knife in hand. Dad attempting to defend them. The man overpowering him. Mom’s screams ringing in Kyle's ears. The knife flashing in the lamplight. Her last word: “Run!”
Tears rolled down his cheeks as his eyes focused on the abandoned house that now lay in ruins. Peeling paint, broken windows, sagging roof, and a buckled wall stood among weeds that appeared to have digested sections of the house.
It had been twenty years since the day his life had turned into a nightmare. They put him into protective custody. The voices haunted him, woke him, taunted him. The custodial parents eventually admitted him to the mental hospital. But at this house, time appeared to roll back and the voices would disappear.
He pulled into the circle drive. Kyle plowed through the waist-high weeds to the back of the house. The tombstones of his parents protruded from the ground at an angle, jerking tears to his eyes. Waves of fear, regret and anger mixed to form an emotional tornado churning in his soul.
“I see you have returned, sonny. Would you like some cookies and milk?”
Kyle jerked his head up and smiled, “Granny, it’s so good to see you.” Granny lived next door and provided Kyle with many fond memories. Retired, she would join him in his adventures by the creek as a kid. Now, her arms, bones with skin draped over them, wobbled on her cane as she took deliberate steps.
Kyle followed Granny to her house and sat down for cookies and conversation. He always enjoyed his chats with her. Unlike the voices, she bathed him in pleasant conversation as she had always done.
“Granny--” She had paused for a moment. “You know those voices I hear in my head? Why do they stop when I’m here?”
She stared at the ground until Kyle feared she had fallen asleep. Her head bobbed up, as if she had to get a running start. “I ain’t no shrink, but I think them voices you’re a-hearin’ are tryin’ to keep you from a-seein’ something about yourself. When you’re here, you see it, so they no longer talk.”
“I just want to live in my house.” Kyle stuffed a cookie in his mouth, lamenting not all solutions tasted as good.
Granny lifted her bony hand and touched Kyle on his chest. “Sonny, if you’d deal with the memories inside, you could be freed from them voices.”
They sat in silence, slurping milk and crunching cookies. “I wish you worked at the hospital. You’re smarter than my shrink.”
A knock at the door interrupted them. Kyle’s heart sank. Granny arose and hobbled to the door. Two men in white coats and pants stood at the threshold.
“Mr. Kyle Winsome, you need your medications.” They moved into the room, plastic restraining straps at the ready.
“No, I want to stay here! Don’t make me go back. Don’t make me leave here. The voices, they’ll come back. Please!”
The men ignored his pleas. They jumped on him as he backed to the kitchen door. Kyle struggled, but could not escape. They bound him and dragged him out the door.
Kyle stared wide-eyed at Granny. “Granny, save me?” He knew she could do nothing. But he asked anyway.
She stood, one hand over her mouth. “Sonny, I’ll be here next time you visit.” She waved weakly.
Kyle watched helplessly from the back window, past the convertible that followed the van. His house disappeared behind the trees.
Kyle, we’re back. Did you miss us? Did you think you would get rid of us this time?
Kyle could picture the smirk on Zach's face.
Kyle, Wanda said, We want to help you, why did you disappear? I don’t like it when you leave us.
“No! Go away!” Kyle’s hands turned white as he gripped the window’s edge. Tears stained his cheeks. “No more voices!”
Sorry, Kyle, they both said together, You can’t stop us. We are you.
Kyle froze. His eyes widened in realization of the truth. Granny was right. A smile creased his lips and he loosened his grip on the window sill.
“Yes, you are me. And that means I can silence you.”
Copyright 2007, R. L. Copple. All rights reserved.
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