The Voices
The voices in my head had never scared me.
They comforted me and I considered them to be my friends. As a child, I had always been different--always been pushed aside as the outcast. People were told to steer clear of me because I was possessed or because I “wasn’t all there”. But I’m perfectly sane. Perhaps, my reality is just different from theirs.
The morning of that fated day was violent. The clouds were dark and voluminous and lightning pierced through the skies. Thunder cracked and cackled about, the loud, sudden sounds mimicking the voices in my head. The voices were restless that morning, and it gave me a warning to what happened later on in the evening.
“What?” The girl in front of me made a face. “What are you thinking about?” she questioned. I was cornered …show more content…
Freak?” The voices sounded like they were singing. Kill her, they sang to me, Kill her and get your revenge. I ripped off her friends blood soaked shirt and tied it across her mouth, gagging her. I grabbed her head and tucked it under my arm. “You called me a freak, right?” I asked her, looking at her glassy, fear filled eyes. Her tears continued to drop, along with the blood from the cuts on her face. She shook her head furiously.
“Oh, lying is not nice.” I reprimanded, tapping her forehead gently. With that said, I readied my knife and began carving the word “FREAK” across her forehead. Her screams were piercing and absolutely glorious. Her arms and her legs were twitching and flailing, but the ropes held them down. The blood was everywhere: it was running down her face and cheeks, splattering across my arms and clothes, and dripping all over the floor.
By the time I finished, her screams had stopped and she was unconscious. I could still feel her pulse on her neck and as I much as I would have loved to do more to her, I couldn’t be bothered to wait. I slit her throat and dropped her body on the
The voices in my head had never scared me.
They comforted me and I considered them to be my friends. As a child, I had always been different--always been pushed aside as the outcast. People were told to steer clear of me because I was possessed or because I “wasn’t all there”. But I’m perfectly sane. Perhaps, my reality is just different from theirs.
The morning of that fated day was violent. The clouds were dark and voluminous and lightning pierced through the skies. Thunder cracked and cackled about, the loud, sudden sounds mimicking the voices in my head. The voices were restless that morning, and it gave me a warning to what happened later on in the evening.
“What?” The girl in front of me made a face. “What are you thinking about?” she questioned. I was cornered …show more content…
Freak?” The voices sounded like they were singing. Kill her, they sang to me, Kill her and get your revenge. I ripped off her friends blood soaked shirt and tied it across her mouth, gagging her. I grabbed her head and tucked it under my arm. “You called me a freak, right?” I asked her, looking at her glassy, fear filled eyes. Her tears continued to drop, along with the blood from the cuts on her face. She shook her head furiously.
“Oh, lying is not nice.” I reprimanded, tapping her forehead gently. With that said, I readied my knife and began carving the word “FREAK” across her forehead. Her screams were piercing and absolutely glorious. Her arms and her legs were twitching and flailing, but the ropes held them down. The blood was everywhere: it was running down her face and cheeks, splattering across my arms and clothes, and dripping all over the floor.
By the time I finished, her screams had stopped and she was unconscious. I could still feel her pulse on her neck and as I much as I would have loved to do more to her, I couldn’t be bothered to wait. I slit her throat and dropped her body on the