Voices

She pleads with you, she begs for you to let her be. The voices tell you to ignore her cries to live. They tell you to forget her outburst because she isn’t worthy of life anymore. They tell you to destroy her, to break her beyond repair. It’s the voices that want her to feel pain, not you, but you must obey them. You cannot control them. The way they so violently tantalize you, they send shivers down your spine. I can see it in your eyes when they take over. I watch you, helpless as you drag her away to the confines of your shabby room. From there, I can only listen. Voices are our only connection anymore it seems. I lay awake, the covers pooling at my feet, and wrapped tightly around my frame. It’s the voice of a new young woman pleading for her life, for her dignity. It’s your voice when they take over, the cruel and harsh way in which you spit out each and every word. Your voices however are different. They are only audible to you. Sometimes they disappear for awhile, and those are the moments I have come to cherish. But when they come back, when they enter your weak and nimble body, I fear you. I don’t want to fear you because I am meant to love you.Another day ends like all of the others; you come home with another victim and angrily drag her by the hair and into your room. I can see tears of fear, flowing freely down her cheeks as you drag her by me. Her eyes plead with mine, and my own show only sympathy...for which person in front of me I am not exactly sure. Her blonde hair falls in messy waves across her face, some spots stained crimson from blood. I notice a small cut upon her forehead and silently pray for you to finish her off quickly. She doesn’t deserve this, none of them do.The door shutting is like another break in the long directory of cracks in my heart. I hear her scream, and I hear you laugh. You shriek at her, tell her that she’s a whore and she doesn’t have the right to breathe. Noises which sound like strangled sobs and whimpers descend from her mouth in one last plea for life. My guess is you will deny her, and nearly minutes later when all sound stops, I know that I was right.Its times like tonight that I wish that she was here. She was the only person whom could stop this. She loved you, and you loved her, or so I assumed. Together we were a great family. I don’t understand why she had to end it all. Why couldn’t she weather the storm? Was I too horrible for her to bear? Didn’t I love her enough? Didn’t you love her enough? My brain contemplates these thoughts daily; it’s my escape from reality. Where one horrible life ends, another begins.The door creaks on its hinges and I know you are exiting the blood bath you consider your room. I bet that poor girl is still lying carelessly on the floor. I also bet that you don’t care. You walk towards me, a strange look in your eyes and I sense it. The voices are gone and it’s really you again.
“What are you still doing awake? Go to bed sweetie.”I shiver at your use of words. I used to find it cute when you would call me that, until the night you spoke to one of your victims in a similar tone.“Don’t you like that sweetie? Aren’t you enjoying this?”Without another word I remove myself from your existence and enter my room. Closing the door I change for the night before walking towards the bed. Sometimes I pretend that you come in after me, and kiss me on the forehead like you used to. As much as I want it to become reality, a part of me fears that if you enter now, you will be the only one to ever exit alive. I’m not blind, I’ve noticed it. The way my shoulder length brunette hair keeps lightening, the way my figure is maturing. Soon enough it will be my turn, I know that you see it too. One day I will become your victim, one day you will end my life like you have ended so many others. No one can stop you, nobody is aware of the voices, no one but me.So, in a fleeting attempt to keep my humility intact, I redirect, instead walking for my side drawer. Opening it slowly I sigh in relief as no noises are emitted. Looking through it, my breathing increases. No doubt I am working myself up for what lies ahead. Once finding it, I begin to shiver. But thinking of you instantly focuses me back on the task at hand.I imagine that it’s you pulling my hair, knotting it with your large and bruised hands. I pretend that it is you whom throws me to the floor, and begins to claw my skin violently. My imagination tells me it’s you who pulls out the sharp razor and begins to disfigure my once smooth and supple body. My screams of pain increase as every cut deepens and the sensation of blood trickling down my flesh has my head spinning. I’m so caught up in this world that I forget the truth. I cannot place reality from fiction, and I forget that you aren’t here with me. I blank on the fact that you are really just outside of my room.Blood, dark and dirty, it’s sort of like a secret. Its creamy substance smears my clothes and carpet as I wither on the ground. Convulsions take over as I lose more and more of that crimson fluid. I know I am one step closer to death, one step closer and back to her.Before the finale takes over, I allow myself one more thought. I wonder desperately why she did what she did. Why did my mom kill herself, and why did I let you take the blame? I’ll never understand, but at least now I will never have to question it again. Why did you resort to murder after her death? Does it make you feel like more of a man? Do you enjoy watching the life dance right out of their eyes? That’s why you pick blondes you know, they each in their own way, look like mom. Are you telling me you wanted her death on your hands? Is this the unspoken way you share with me your true feelings? I don’t know this answer either. I don’t know it like I don’t know you. I was there for you after moms passing, why couldn’t I be enough, Dad? Was I ever enough?It’s over in this moment. To me this feels like a bad movie finally coming to its end. I can be free now; I don’t need to live in fear. What kind of life is it where a child lives in fear of their father? Where a child has to pray day by day that it won’t be there last?Luckily I had the courage to end it. I stopped you from getting to me. And now as I am lifted from my body, I pray of you one more thing. Harry Judd, husband, friend, but most importantly daddy, please don’t blame yourself...it was never your fault. The voices told you to do it.

A Mcfly story, hence the Harry reference