I often hear voices, sometimes it's almost as if I'm the one they talk to — or talk about. Most of them are new to me, except one, the one I hear the most.
I awoke in this dark place not quite long ago, without a clue as to what brought me. It's big enough for me to move around in. The voice, the one I hear the most, makes me feel safe.
Something connects me to it, and yet something separates me from it. There are days that I let it know I'm here, other days I just listen, but today is different. It's not like the other days, something's off but I don't know what.
It's the same voice. I know it because it's the one I hear the most, but it sounds different today. It's screaming. Is it because of me? Because now this place is getting less comfortable. The space is getting smaller and a light has appeared behind me. I can hear the screams getting louder and I feel something pushing me towards the light. Maybe I'll finally know where the voices come from.
I've been here for nine months now and I've grown fond of the dark, oh and I think red is my favourite colour now.
My time here is up and I can feel it. I don't know where I'll be going, perhaps it might be another place like this, or not, I don't know. I do know what I have to do, I have to find the voice, the one I hear the most.