My Tormentors

I used to call you My Voices,
But you may be something worse.
You used to make all my choices;
Your shouting voices are my curse.

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“Can you tell me why you are here?” The woman in the white coat asks as she pulls out her pen and paper as if ready to take notes for some Advanced Placement test. The Geometry of Crazy People – Enriched. Line SI bisects an angle of triangle MIA…

She gives me a look that says ‘I can help you, why don’t you let me?’ and leans in closer to me. Her thick red-rimmed glasses slide down her nose a little and she pushes them back up. Her eyelashes are caked with mascara. She pushes her light brown hair out of her face. Actually, it might be dirty blonde. I am not really sure.

She asks me again. “Do you know why?”

“I…I failed them,” I say to no one in particular. The stain on the carpet might just care more than she does. I press the heel of my shoe into the stain, willing it to disappear. It doesn’t.

“Who do you think you failed?” She leans in closer still, pen in hand. I notice a smudge of lipstick on her tooth when she smiles. “It’s okay, you can tell me,” she says gently, “We’re all alone in here.”

I give her a blank look. I could tell her about them.

They are The Voices. The Voices that just never seam to stop. Their sweet, sweet, lullabies filled with dissonant chords playing in my head. They guide me into me into my haunted sleep. Dreams of disembodied voices gaining form. They tower over me. They hold me captive as they protect me from the world.

They came slowly, one by one. The first one, just like all the others, never knocked on the door to my mind. She snuck in and grabbed me from behind. She wore a lengthy blue dress that was torn and frayed at the edges. Her long hair was dark messy. Her eyes were a dull grey and her mouth was pierced to form a cage. I don’t think she knew how to smile.

She held me close. She took my hand and she never let it go. Since that day, I could never smile again. The metal bar that had caged her mouth became undone. She sat me down that day. She sat me down and she caged my heart.

She became a part of me. We were all alone; we played solitaire in my head. Only I could manage to lose against myself. She held me tight, but only her cold hands could hold me now. Her lullabies were icy and sweet. She hushed my laughter and taught me how to shed tears. I cried as she sang, and we blended into a sweet and sad harmony. Her name is Emma.

I say nothing to the woman. She scribbles on her ugly note pad some more. I try to think about how triangle BPD could be proven to be congruent to triangle APD using the ANA theorem. It doesn’t really work. She frowns at me.

“Did you have a bad fight with this person?” She leans back in her chair and checks the clock. I wonder if she wants to get out of here as much as I do. “Did they do something to you?”

I can’t say we got along well… For how well can one get along with themselves?

But it was when the second one came that things really fell apart. She came over for tea the first time. A peaceful visit. Her eyes were the darkest red, and her skin was torn and draped over her like a coat. Her “coat” was held together by paperclips and knives. Behind her was a trail of blood: blood that was my own.

She asked to stay the night. She came back almost every day. Her visits slowly became more frequent. I just couldn’t turn her down. She became the best friend I had ever had. I let her down.

“It was my fault…” She writes down more notes and turns the page.

I sat down in my mind one night and I asked the second one how long she’d stay. She laughed at me as Emma poured her more tea. As she took a sip more than half of it dribbled down her torn lips. Her laugh was harsh and fake and every time she laughed I could see a blood red tear escape from her eyes.

‘I will never leave,’ she whispered. Her voice was low and harsh.

“Katie is here to stay,” Emma said gently.

Katie took a dagger out from her pocket and gave it to me in a box. She gave me a new friend. It was a tool to get out of my mind. I held it dear to my heart.

I don’t tell the woman this either, however. I just look at her again. “They tried to help me; they did help…”

“Then why did you do this?” She tries to comfort me. I shrug her hand away. “Did they hurt you?”

I focus on that unsightly stain again.

Katie and Emma knew each other well. Whenever Emma was with me for too long Katie would sneak her way out of her little corner of my mind to give me one of her bloody hugs. And for a little while, I couldn’t see Emma anymore. But in the end, they were both there. They always would be.

Katie taught me how to scream. I screamed and I cried as they sang. Our harmonies became one yet again.

As time went on I found more voices in various corners of my mind. Katie and I fought all the time, so she brought over a friend to watch over me while she was gone. My babysitters – Stephanie and Angy. Whenever there was too much and I couldn’t cope Stephanie would help. Whenever I was hurt and alone Angy would hold me close. They taught me how to scream.

I tried to kick Katie out a few times. But she always banged on the door and I couldn’t push the door back for very long. Sometimes Angy, Stephanie, and Emma would let her back in. She always found a way back in. Sometimes I didn’t know it until she was standing in the doorway. She was always so angry with me. She told me I could never be free of her. I knew then I was stupid to even try.

“I made my only friends hate me.”

“What happend? Why did they hate you?”

I stared at her again. “I deserve it.”

“How can you be so sure?” She inquires. “You have so much to live for; after all, I am sure that your friends meant the best.”

I look out the window wishing I could go outside. I wish my room would have windows.

Anna came next. She was tall and beautiful. She was perfect in every sense of the word. Her bones had no disfiguring flesh attached. She had control. She had no fears. She was perfect and beautiful inside and out. She could never fail. She was loved.

She gave me control. She told me it could all get better. She told me I could be like her. Katie and Emma held my hands while Anna held me by my waist. She gave me control but she held her own twisted control over me. She taught me how to hate myself; she taught me how to look away.

Crying and screaming. Shouting and hating. They all sang to me as I prayed for salvation. I prayed for help but all I got was the last voice. Stacy… Stacy taught me how to make it all go away. Stacy taught me how to end my pain. Stacy brought this white-coated woman to my door.

“They tried to… Teach me… I was a bad student,” I rub the tears away from my eyes and chuckle.

I prayed for help for so long… But all I got was her. The white coated woman on her faux leather throne.

She writes down some more notes as the buzzer lets her know the next Crazy is waiting for her help. Time for me to get escorted to Enteral Feeding. She looks at me again, as though she thinks she can help. Like she is proud of the progress we have made today.

I walk out of the room; Stacy laughing at her. Our laughter blends into one.

I think I can hear singing.

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I wrote this at the very end of December. The story isn't real... The voices are but they:
A. Communicate with me in different ways.
B. Did not come in this exact order.

The girl represents where I'm scared my path will lead me, I suppose.

The voices represent:
- Emma - Depression.
- Katie - Self Injury.
- Stephanie - Stress.
- Angy - Anger.
- Anna - Anorexia.
- Stacy - Suicide.

Should I change the rating, delete it, edit it? I don't like it too much.