Voices

I take a step and my ankle is stabbed with pain that makes me want to cry out but I swallow it down. Quiet. You have to be quiet. My breath is shallow and fast. Slow it down, now. A deep breath in, and a deep breath out, I repeat that mantra that’s worked for every heartache and broken bone throughout my life. The manta that I use to calm myself. But all I can picture is the way that knife dug into her chest. It carved and hacked, chopping away until there was nothing left. I feel my cheeks wet and it is only then that I realize I’ve been crying. I suppose that’s normal when seeing your mother being carved like a turkey.

I hear a voice calling out. “Anna, where are you?” it croons—taunting me. “Don’t you want to see your mommy? She’s so happy now. Let me show you her smile.”

A shiver runs down my spine, but I don’t have the nerve to do anything but hide behind the chair in my room. Hiding is safer than going out there. I look from the door to the window. If anything happens, I’ll go out the window. It’s only a story down into the pool, I’ll be safe. I know I will.

“Come now, Anna,” the voice continues, mocking in its tone. The door slams open and there’s that figure. Close to seven feet tall and drenched in shadow. But through that veil of darkness are eyes that glisten with the blood that covers a mangled and misshapen face. “Let me show you how to smile.”

I throw my guitar at it, shattering a prized possession to pieces. There’s no time to mourn before I leap for the window and smash through. I’m on the patio roof, scrambling to my feet on the broken glass but I can’t stay there. One good leap and I’m in the air, falling with a scream into the water below.

The pool envelopes me, covering me in a false sense of security. But I can’t pay attention to that. I pull myself out of the water, dripping clothes clinging to my body. No time to care about anything but surviving. The figure is jumping now, entering the water and sinking, down and down farther. I limp to the fence as fast as I can. It’s a struggle to get over, but I manage it. I hit the pavement and keep going, leaving a trail of bloody footprints.

I run. I have no idea if there’s only one of those things out there or not, so I don’t try and scream for help. I only run, tears blurring my vision. The pavement is still warm despite being the middle of the night, a side effect of the desert sun beating down on the blacktop all day long. It burns my feet but I keep going. Pain is temporary, death is forever.

After a few minutes of my desperate sprinting through the pain, I reach a water runoff. It’s flooding from the recent downpour of monsoon rains that quench the desert’s thirst. I start limping to the break in the high fence when I hear that voice again.

“Anna,” it coos, softly, as if to soothe me. “Where are you going?”

I turn to see the bent-human shape alone in the middle of the street. It is bathed in the light of a flickering lamp post overhead.

I keep running on the side of the runoff and I see another appear in the doorway of a neighbor’s house at the bend. “Anna,” it calls in the same, haunting voice. I have to go. Now. It’s not safe.

I sprint, running as fast I can. The run off may be dangerous, but it could help me too. I don’t hear the footfalls behind me, but I know it’s after me. I start to see the figures across this temporary river now too. But I don’t stop myself from leaping in. I gasp at the cold of the water but I keep swimming. My legs and arms go as fast as they’re able to. I don’t think; don’t stop.

“Anna.”

“Anna, stop.”

“Anna, what are you doing?”

“Anna, we want you to smile.”

“Smile for us, Anna.”

I dive under, desperate for an escape from the taunting of the voices. The water is acrid when it enters my mouth. I’m in trouble now. My limbs thrash, fighting the phantoms around me.

I surface, panting for air and grabbing lungful after lungful.

“Anna,” I hear, right behind me. I don’t even scream before the knife enters my throat.

Any second now, I’ll wake up.

Another knife pierces my back.

I still haven’t woken.

Another knife drags across my throat, but I still don’t wake, even as I start to drown in my own blood.

It’s only when I hit the rocky bed of the water that I think I’m not dreaming.

Maybe this is it.

I close my eyes.

And when I open them again, I’m screaming in my own room. I’m back home. It was all a dream. It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m safe.

It was all a dream?! Lame!

Okay. It’s just a dream, that’s all it was. Just breathe and relax. A deep breath in, and a deep breath out.

What kind of a cheap trick is that?

Not the voices… Where did I leave those damn antipsychotics? Just make them go away… Clenching my hair in my fists, I growl out loud. Why do they have to go after me?

I slip out of bed, putting my feet onto the carpet. The winding clock says it’s just after Four. Ugh, I need to get up in a few hours. But I won’t be able to do that with the voices talking. Need to drown them out. They should be in my backpack downstairs. The thought that James might have texted me back after my apology leads me to my phone. I grab it from its charger and pull it free of the life-giving umbilical cord so I can use it to light my way downstairs. But the screen doesn’t come to life.

Is the power out?

I glance over where my laptop is charging and I don’t see the normal blinking.

“It’s just the power. It must have gone out after I went to sleep…” I say, trying to convince myself in the dead silence of the night.

I’m at my door, about to turn the knob when the voice comes back.

What if it’s out there?

I don’t even pay attention to it, opening the door. There’s nothing there. It’s home, and the nightmare is over. It’s safe here. Even when I think that, I feel a wave of tension getting washed away. Why wouldn’t home be safe?

I ease my foot outside the door, the floorboard creaking beneath my weight.

Something’s there. Look for it, girl!

Moving down the hallway, I grab the drawer and open it, pulling out the flashlight. Even that doesn’t turn on.

“Batteries must be dead,” I can’t even convince myself of that. Dad is like super anal about making sure that kind of stuff is good to go. He wouldn’t miss something like that. If it wasn’t the middle of the night I’d ask him why the batteries were dead but I know he’d be too grumpy about being woken up to even care about the batteries. Just get your pills and get to sleep, Anna. My hand is on the railing and I set my foot down the first step.

Why would she go downstairs?

Shut up! I scream inside my head. I just need to take my pills and they’ll go away.

Turning the corner, I move to the kitchen, finding my prescription and picking it up. This should stop the voices.

Turn around!

I’m not going to listen to them. It’s not real. It’s just your head. Pill in hand, I move to the sink and get a mouthful of water to swallow it down. But in the glass of the window is the twisted face right behind me. The water sprays all over the glass and I turn around, looking frantically for that face.

There’s nobody there.

Where did it go?

Sssh!

My eyes scan the dark corners of the kitchen and I can hear the blood pounding in my ears. This is different. It’s not in my head. This is real. I know it is. I keep looking around trying as hard as I can not to blink. I have to figure out what that was.

But there’s nothing there. It’s safe. It’s okay.

She needs to run. Needs to run. Get safe. Get help. Go!

I hear a creak upstairs and I jump, dropping the pill to the floor. The creaking moves, from my parents’ room. Probably just Dad going to the bathroom. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing scary about that. I can’t see where the pill I dropped went to. Kneeling down, I crawl around, looking for the small drop of sanity that I need when the voices get like this. I crawl on the floor until I finally find it right in front of the backdoor.

“Anna.” A voice calls. The Sickening, sweet voice from my nightmares is right behind me. It sounds like some bird’s mating cry, a twisted form of my own name. I jump to my feet and look in the darkness of the kitchen. There’s nothing there.

It’s behind you!

My whole body stiffens up and I turn around as slow as I can only to jump back, losing my balance and landing on my butt on the floor and scream.

The thing is there. The twisted, bent figure looms in the doorway to the backyard. Those shimmering eyes and that smile, that horrible wretched smile that seems to be carved into its scarred, tormented face.

RUN!

I listen. God help me, I listen to the voices in my head.

I move as fast as I can but the panic makes me lose my balance. I slip on the hardwood and slam my head into the floor. It hurts but I’m not going to stop that easily.

She fell? Really?

With a grunt, I stand up. “I know, I know!” I yell to those voices that won’t seem to shut up. But I turn the corner to the front door and unlatch the deadbolt. My bare feet are on pavement a moment later, sprinting and gnashing up my feet on the rough ground.

After a few minutes of my desperate sprinting, I reach a water runoff. It’s flooding from the recent downpour of monsoon rains to quench the desert’s thirst. I dive for the break in the high fence and scramble beneath it when I hear that voice again.

There’s no way out of there.

“Anna,” whatever the hell it is coos, softly, as if to soothe me. “Where are you going?”

I turn my head to see that crooked figure alone in the middle of the street. It is bathed in the light of a flickering lamp post overhead. Whipping my head to the other side of the water I see a figure appear in the doorway of a neighbor’s house. “Anna,” it calls in the same, haunting voice. I have to go. Now. It’s not safe.

This feels familiar.

I sprint, running as fast I can. The run off may be dangerous, but it could help me too. I don’t hear the footfalls behind me, but I know it’s after me. I start to see the figures across the temporary river now too. But I don’t stop myself from leaping in. I gasp at the cold of the water but I keep swimming. The voices scream but I don’t pay any more attention. I don’t think; don’t stop.

“Anna, stop.”

“Anna, what are you doing?”

“Anna, there’s nowhere to go.”

“Anna, we’ll find you.”

Dive under.

I dive under the surface of the water, desperate for an escape from the taunting of the voices. The water is acrid when it enters my mouth. I’m in trouble now. I thrash, fighting the phantoms around me.

I surface, panting for air and grabbing lungful after lungful, rescuing myself from deoxygenation.

“Anna,” I hear, right behind me. I don’t even scream before the knife enters my throat.

NO!

Any second now, I’ll wake up. Another knife pierces my back.

I still haven’t woken.

Oh shit.

Another knife drags across my throat, but I still don’t wake, even as I start to drown in my own blood.

…An…na…

It’s only when I hit the rocky bed of the water that I think I’m not dreaming. The voices are even fading away now. Maybe this is it.

I close my eyes.

And this time, I don’t wake up.