When you think, there’s probably this quiet voice in your head that you recognize as your own. That’s what other people have told me, at least. Mine works a little differently.
It’s really interesting, when you think about it. You go through life assuming something is normal, because nobody really talks about it. Like, who taught you how to take a shower? Nobody, right? What if the way you do it is just.. wrong, compared to the way everybody else does it? You might never know. How often do you watch other people shower? Nevermind, don’t answer that.
The problem I have is that I learned, at 27 years old, that not everyone’s inner voice screams at them from across the room. Not everyone’s inner voice constantly eggs them on to do horrible things. I’ve heard of intrusive thoughts. I just have a lot of them, compared to other people. And they are so.. so loud.
It’s also really interesting how the mind tunes certain things out after awhile, or just classifies them as normal. You’d think hearing a mad man with a voice that sounds like mine, but just a little bit off, scream at me from the next room would scare me, but after dealing with it every day, I’ve just sort of.. gotten used to it. I can’t afford therapy. Hell, up until a few weeks ago, I didn’t even know it was abnormal.
The screaming part doesn’t scare me. It’s when my inner voice gets real quiet, that really scares me. Like it’s plotting. My own mind, working against me.
“Get up.”
My eyes shot open, transitioning from a deep sleep to instantly being fully alert in my bed. I glanced over at my clock. 4:34 AM.
I was preparing to roll over and go back to sleep, brushing it off as me hearing things, when the sound of a single footstep echoed throughout my apartment. The sound we all dread to hear, late at night.
Someone else was in here.
“Reach into your nightstand.” my own voice said, seemingly from across the room. I squinted my eyes in confusion. I’ve never used my nightstand for anything. There’s nothing in it.
“Do it quickly. They are coming.”
The voice was so quiet, as though it were afraid the intruder may hear it. That tiny hint of offness lingering in it. My words. Just a little bit wrong.
I sat up in bed, and reached towards my nightstand to pull open the drawer, expecting nothing. It was too dark to see into it, so I reached in and felt around. My hand immediately rubbed against something hard and cold.
“How did you-“ I whispered.
“Point it at the door.”, the voice said. It felt closer now, as though it were coming from a man sitting on the edge of my bed.
Am I crazy? Would I know if I was? Would someone tell me? Would I even listen to them?
Another footstep, just outside of my bedroom door now. I moved my hand and angled my strangely familiar feeling weapon towards the door. I heard the doorknob jiggle.
The silence was instantly broken by the sound of a single gunshot, followed by my door swinging open and a body falling to the ground in my bedroom with a thud. I jumped to my feet. My hands were shaking, and it felt like I wasn’t fully in control of myself. Like I’d done this before.
I rushed over and flicked on the light, keeping my weapon pointed at the intruder. He was on his stomach, with hole through his back.
“Please..” he whimpered. Thank god, he’s alive. I might be defending my home, but I didn’t want to kill someone if I didn’t absolutely have to. I kicked him over, so he was laying on his back. He looked right at me, and his face went from sad and wilted to horrified in an instant.
“No.. no, what.. what are you?” he said.
Maybe he hit his head on the way down. Had he not even realized he’d been shot?
Then he started screaming. Oh god, the screaming. Like he was eye to eye with the devil. Suddenly, I spotted movement in my peripheral vision. I swung my gun to the right, only to discover myself face to face with my standing bedroom mirror.
That’s when I understood that something was seriously wrong.
What I saw was myself, exactly as I was. But instead of looking at the mirror, I was still looking down at the man, gun pointed at him. It was shocking, to say the least. Like a still image taken from 10 seconds ago. It shocked me even more when the ‘me’ in the mirror turned to look at the real me.
“They will never believe you.” he said, before turning the gun on ‘himself’, and firing.
I woke up in the hospital a day later. Police reports said that I was defending my home from a home invader, when I succumbed to what they believe was a seizure induced by extreme stress, and passed out, hitting my head on my bed frame on the way down.
According to the report, I had shot that man 9 times.
It was ruled self defense, and I never even needed to go to trial. One ‘perk’ of living in a deep red state, I guess?
Since that day, the voice disappeared. I finally have what I consider to be ‘normal’ thoughts. I got a better job, and see a therapist three times a month. Life is getting.. better.
But every once in awhile, out of the corner of my eye, I’ll catch my reflection. It could be anything. A freshly waxed car, a mirror, a black computer screen. And usually it’ll be fine, just me doing whatever it is I’m doing. But sometimes, the reflection feels.. different. Sometime’s it seems just a little bit..
wrong.