Voices

Hello world,
I’m beating a black hollow gong; the sounds rattle the soul.. Get submerged in the riotous tides…
Yours, DarkBetty.

... the black is coming ...

The voices in my head. They are shouting. They are screaming. They want out.
They want to manifest.
My left hand flutters to the scarf around my throat. Tight. Too tight.
I drag in deep breaths. No. Not now. Not today.
In. Out. In. Out.

I look at her from the corner of my eye. I watch her hand loosen the scarf; that always happens. Hand to throat.
No.
I look down at myself, resplendent in white.
No. Not now. Not today.
She’s not well. I knew this before I loved her. I knew this, yet, I love her still.
But please, not today.

I see my gleaming bride try to discreetly glance at her maid of honor. This friend that is the only thing wrong with my bride.
I sometimes believe she loves her more than me. Like now.
But we’re getting married, please pay attention.

The screams are louder. Ricocheting on the walls of my mind. I tap my foot nervously. The shudders have started. I can see him frown at us. He doesn’t understand. My vision blurs slightly then everything’s sharp again.
They want out. I grit my teeth. Tight. No.
But it seems the more I resist, the more restless they get.
And I know.
With all certainty, it’s going to happen.
I can’t do this to her.

I turn to see her hand the bouquet over to another bride’s maid and walk slowly towards the side doors of the church. Her steps are unsteady. It’s happening.
I look at my groom. A scowl etched on his face. His dark eyes seem to scream: “Choose! Her or me?”
The pastor is asking if everything is ok. Of course not.
My eyes swing from my groom to my friend. Then back. And forth.
My mother is approaching the altar.

I watch my bride turn in a swirl of white lace and run after her friend.
She has chosen.
The crowd is moving and murmuring.
I look at my feet. Be a man. She has chosen.
But I love her.
“Stay here.” I tell the fussy mother and run after them.

They want out. They are going to get out. Please just let me get in. Let me hide.
Let my shame remain covered.
I reach the back office just as the first jolt comes and I am slammed to the ground.
Pain, sharp pain lances through my head.
The black is coming.
I let go and welcome it.
The voices are out.

I watch her fall jerkily to the ground. My tears fall freely, ruining the makeup that had been applied painstakingly.
I run to her and drag her fully into the office.
She is screaming. An incoherent language. She is jerking, her hands flailing wildly about.
I get a fist in my eye and I cry harder.
When will all this end?
I hear a gasp and see my groom staring at us in shock.
He came.

The picture that greets me is one I won’t forget. My beautiful bride is sitting on the ground in her white dress, trying to hold on to her screaming friend.
The friend is shouting gibberish in an unknown language.
Understanding comes.
And I love her even more.
I close the door behind me and join them on the floor.

Together, we try to prevent her from hurting herself.

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