They wouldn’t stop. No matter how hard I tried, the voices wouldn’t leave me alone. It’s been three years now since this madness started, two years since I’ve been on medication, and it’s done fuck all for me.
An especially bad headache was beginning to pound silently behind my right eye, causing me to instinctively cover said eye with my hand. As if that would make everything better. When the headaches were about to start the voices were never far behind. You learn a thing or two about yourself when you have to deal with a madness like this one.
Aching for it to be over, I allow myself to slide hard onto the floor against the stone wall behind me. To think that this would happen here of all places, in the middle of an alley… Have there not been enough murders here recently? It seemed fate or whatever it was planned on me becoming the next victim.
With tears in my eyes the headache begins to pound heavily against my eye sockets. The pain quickly spreads and I brace myself.
Julie. I smile. It’s that one. I call him Larry, because I feel like I should call him something. Larry is always straight to the point, and I suppose in a way I like that. If it wasn’t so damn messed up.
Julie. Get up. Go home.
Violently, forgetting all about the pain in my forehead for a brief moment, I shake my head but regret it instantly. All the movement did is make the pain worse and now everything is spinning as well. I feel sick, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I never do. And Larry knows me too well to pretend otherwise.
Do you want to die? Again I shake my head. Nobody wants to die, surely? Good. Then get up, and get moving! You can hear them, laughing just around the corner. If you stay here you’ll die.
My legs shaking, I force myself to stand up. For a moment I feel like the dizziness might get the better of me after all, but then the sudden sickness leaves and I can see straight again. My head is still killing me but, ironically, Larry’s voice has a way of making me feel more sane. Who’d have thought, huh?
I can hear the men Larry referred to pretty well. He’s right, it sounds like their demented laughing comes from less than five metres away, from another slightly darker alley just to my right. My feet wobbling against the cobblestones, I make myself walk. Somehow I make it to the other end of the narrow street, and I’m blinded by street lights as I make it back into the busy hustle of my home town.
Now get yourself home. We’ll talk when you’re there.
Feeling stupid that I even bother, I nod.
I suppose I should feel lucky. Most people like me only hear the bad things. The ‘go kill yourself’ things, or the ‘go burn your parents’ house down’ things, but I never did. Accident prone as I am, all Larry has ever done for me is get me out of trouble. Lucky as I should be it still was not normal, and just like every other miserable day of my life I’m torn between somehow getting rid of him, and allowing him to mess up my head a little deeper.
All of my 10-Minute stories are improvised, unplanned, and unedited apart from spelling and grammar mistakes. The idea is to kick-start the dreaded Monday with a short, creative exercise without thinking about it, and simply writing for the sake of writing.
For all other 10-Minute shorts, take a look here.