The Voice Lurking

This is a story of a misunderstood teenager that doesn't know how to make it through life in a sane manner. After a traumatic experience her whole way of thinking is altered.


1. The Voice Lurking

It’s pitch black and cold. I just happen to be awake. I can’t decipher what time it is. In the middle of the night, I assume. The blankets wrap me up in a silk comfortable way, unlike the voice that is screaming in my head. I don’t know whether to go back to sleep or fight with it. Every time I tend to invite it in it gets the best of me and I feel like a total insane stranger hidden under my ivory smooth skin. Tonight I don’t get to choose. The voice comes screaming at me. I listen to myself talk (or the voice) it’s not so much of a scream anymore instead it whispers with power in every phrase. “You are alone in this world. A no good loser. You are… Worthless.” It always brings this physical pain in my chest, like a shallow hole begging to be filled with passion. I wrestle with blankets to find my phone. The time: 5:30. Might as well get up for a nice long school day that I so much desire. Not. I rolled out of bed into the silent house. I go to the bathroom sink to wash my face. My eyes show deep sleep deprivation. But the eyes in the mirror are a soft baby blue. With a topping of long black layered hair. I throw on some sweats and a tight Fox shirt. It’s funny for how much I don’t care about my apparel, I sure try hard. I skip breakfast for the third week and jump into a red 1950 Ford pick-up, I start the engine, put it in reverse, and head to school.             I wouldn’t say I’m an outcast… to others. To myself, I feel like a total stranger, walking the halls with this fake smile. I seem to hide my emotions well. “Hey Phoenix!” Yep, that is me! Phoenix Rose O’Connell. Others see me as the girl with a colorful personality, with manners, respect, and a heart for everyone. I wouldn’t say that’s not true, but I just think I am a girl trying to get through life one day at a time. Because the forecast is rainy and the weather men have been predicting a storm, school gets out early. I make it home right before a thick dark blanket covers the sun. I decide to go home and sleep. It’s much more relaxing to sleep when I  hear an un-rhythmic beat of heavy raindrops splattering against my window. It’s as soothing as a mother rocking its baby girl to sleep! In the house I kick off my shoes, skip past the kitchen and head straight for my bed. Only stopping to turn on some Indie Alternative music to help with the sleep factor. I can feel myself drop into a dream land. I know I’m dreaming though. It’s a feeling of being familiar with my surroundings. My dream is black, dark. Only a mirror image of myself…  and a feeling of regret. Regret? for what? Falling asleep? In the mirror my eyes turn black… there is a cry that I can’t relate with. It’s not mine… That’s for sure. The light goes out and my dream is black. But the cry turns into a whisper… It’s the voice! When it comes in my dreams it’s the most powerful! I suddenly understand the regret feeling.                “I am always alone with this mask made of stone; I pretend to be home but my heart continues to roam.” I don’t know whose voice this is, but in dream land my heart connects with it. All I can do is continue to listen. “Every day is the same; filled with the same amount of pain…. Stop believing your sane, and end this game” The words leave me breathless literally…            My eyes shoot open and I still cannot catch my breath. I keep gasping and gasping for air but none to be received! I need air! I need to breathe! What is going on with me?! I fall off of my bed and tears spill from my eyes…. I NEED TO BREATHE! My vision gets blurred… Am I dying?! Suddenly the world is black. I hear panic surrounding. My mother? I’m confused? A pain in my chest brings me back to life. My eyes open and I see a police uniform with a matching face similar to mine. It’s my father’s face.“Are you okay…?” A low soft voice that’s comforting in a way. Chills run up my spine and my mind tries to process what to say next…. I like in his sympathetic eyes to find relief and exhaustion.“I… Uh… Yeah, I mean I’m… Alive” The last word is raspy and nearly impossible to say, not just because of my sore throat… but because my mind is in a fog and reality has yet to kick in.“Me and your mother got home and… you had no pulse. I performed CPR right away. “ His voice is full of all sorts of emotions and I can’t quite choose which is scarier… The thought of dying… or the thought of him having to go on with such a tragic event. It’s been months since the incident.  That voice in my mind doesn’t show very often. My parents have no idea what happened that day… I don’t care to tell them either. I’m seeing a therapist once a week and things are going smooth. I have learned about how fragile life is. How in seconds it can be taken away. I’ve realized how much I could lose. I now live with a smile every second of the day. I show every person who has ever made an impact on my life that they mean the world to me. I have spent a lot of time wondering about every little think about death…. I have found a conclusion. I will live my time, live my life, live my best. I won’t let pain and sadness control everything that I have lived for. I go on each day just to unravel the adventures of life. Big and small. Every end is a good ending… As long as I am satisfied with the person I am… and the person I will be.

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