Hands (Voice chapter 2)

Chapter two for These Walls of Glass. Spent a while working on it and I hope you enjoy! Any critiques, reviews, etc. welcome

They came for me in darkness.

Or at least, what I’ve now grown to think of as darkness.  

Because really; how can you think of something as dark when you’ve never known light?

Back then the blackness was everything I’d known; safe, familiar, and always there.

Just like The Voice.

Both stayed with me throughout the nothingness; one, a companion, and the other a blanket, a barrier between my world and the world out there. No monsters lurked within my blanket.

But when the light finally came, so did the monsters.

Monsters.

Doctors.

What’s the difference?

Their greedy hands clutched at me, some hooking under my arms, others grabbing at my clothes. Violently, thoughtlessly, mindlessly they physically attacked me.

But what was worse by far was the sound.

Sound!

A word that had only meant silence thus far.

Raspy, guttural noises made from deep within the throat. Each word was like a slap across my face, each sentence a punch to the gut.

My mind went blank for a second, then began racing at super-speed.

Make the noise stop, make the noise stop, make the noise stop!

The Voice, or my own mind; I couldn’t tell which but the meaning to me was clear as glass.

With each repetition it grew more agitated, the glass trembling under the pressure until I was sure it would crack.

I did the only thing I could. A deep instinctual reaction that began in my gut and raced up my body before escaping from my mouth in a rush of air.

I screamed.

The scream was inborn, raw, and brain shattering. Worse, worse, so much worse than the voices of the doctors.

 I’ve always thought fear isn’t about what is there, but more about what could be there. That monster under your bed. That phone call you thought you’d never get. The sound you thought you’d never hear.

That was what it felt like right then. It was as if some monster- the doctors- had reached their probing hands straight into my brain, rummaged carelessly through memories of nothingness, and pulled out what I feared most.

That one day that nothingness would be gone.

That one day The Voice would be gone, and I would be alone.

More alone than I ever was in that deep darkness; even with hundreds of doctors surrounding me, questioning me, fearing me.

That’s when I would be truly alone.  

I drew in tight, not just physically but mentally as well. I felt my entire being scrunch up into a tiny ball, The Voice at the very centre surrounded by layers of fear and pain.

Shivering, I took solace in the whispers of The Voice. Louder, louder, it was getting louder and more agitated. Fearful, even. As if my scream had startled The Voice as much as it had startled me.

As if The Voice had finally realized I was there.

Up until now I had been quiet, a silent eavesdropper in the murmurings of The Voice. Never uttering a sound, never breaking the thin glass sheet of silence.

Silence so full, that it was almost like a third presence in the room. Like the nothingness in-between the stars, it was just there.

But with the doctors came a fourth presence, then a fifth, then a sixth, and so many more that I stopped counting. Like bees attracted to a ripe flower, they swarmed to me, poking, touching, shoving.

My limbs, my lead-laden, never-before-used limbs, were useless to me. The neurons in my brain sent fiery surges racing through my veins, fast, faster, but never fast enough. It was as if each time I thought of kicking or struggling there was a hand ready to catch my flailing limbs.  

They dragged me from under my blanket into a world of screaming colours and crippling sounds.

People, people, people, so many people.

They were everywhere; some forming little tight groups in corners, others spread out, but all were doing the same thing.

All of them were slowly drawing away; their faces frozen in masks of horror and pity and… fear? Fear of what? Of Me?

The people behind shouldered their way to the front, often violently or impatiently, to see what was going on. To see me.

Me, me, me. Thinking of myself as singular made me squirm and claw at my throat in terror. What had happened to we? What had happened to the…

The Voice! Where was it? I viciously attacked the inner workings of my brain almost as viciously as the doctors had attacked me, searching for The Voice.

And what I found made my blood run cold.

It

Wasn’t

There.

Frantically, I searched the faces of the people crowding around me, looking from shadowed face to shadowed face.

That’s how I saw them- as shadows. Shadows of men, of women, of children. Empty souls of people with no real substance at all, simply doing what other people told them to do.

Like shadows.

Shadows without A Voice.

Just the thought of living without A Voice, as an empty, empty shadow brought me to my knees. Again, a low keening wail formed deep in my throat and exploded out my mouth. Like a grenade it acted, forcing the people gathered around me back. The sentiment spread like a contagious disease, one passed from mouth to ear in the form of whispers and murmurs.

Ignoring the vicious words that felt like slaps across my cheeks, I began to claw at my face with my bare hands. I felt fingernails bite into skin, hungrily, drawing blood.

Blood that matched the red in the sky and the fire in the eyes of the doctors.

Blood that, try as I might, could never wash away the stains left on my soul by their dirty hands.

Just as I was about to fall into the welcoming hands of Morpheus; grimy, foul, dark hands that at the moment weren’t so different from the hands of the doctors, I saw something.

Something besides the shadows of men and women and emptiness that flowed through them. Something besides the Doctors with their screaming white lab-coats and grimy, foul, dark hands.

I saw a person.

A person not composed of wisps of smoke and emptiness, but of flesh and blood and bones.

A person like me.

In other words, The Voice.

I’m not quite sure how I came to that glass-shattering conclusion, but once I saw him, I knew. A firm, tangible, irrevocable conclusion that, like the hands of the doctors, couldn’t be shaken off.

A wild, fearful emotion found its way into my body and began to course through my veins;

Despair.

 Harnessing it, I tensed every muscle in my body and contracted inwards; tight, tighter, tighter, until I was an unmoving mass of energy. Then, like some caged animal given its first taste of freedom, I exploded.

I unleashed the fire in my veins, letting it overwhelm me and making me a slave to its will. I lunged forward, groping hands outstretched towards him.  The Voice.

Panicking, the Shadows around me recoiled, some covering empty faces with empty hands, others contorting their twisted bodies in terror.

The last thing I saw before Morpheus’ arms tightened their hold around me and darkened my vision was the fearful face of The Voice glancing in my direction.

His face, stretched into a mask of anger, did little to hide the terror growing inside him. The terror grew and grew, and eventually succumbing to it, he turned his back on me and fled. The boxy, card-board-like boxes swallowed him up as he ran, faster and faster, through the sullied streets.

Running towards a red horizon and away from me.

It was in that instant that I made a vow.

While having cunningly evaded me today- slipping past like sand through my fingers- this was not the last time we would meet.

Because though I would soon be imprisoned by the doctors, my feet shackled and hands manacled to a wall covered in cracks and layers, this was not the end.

Somehow, I would find a way to set fire to that sand and turn it into glass.

And using that glass I would cut my way out of the restraints and prison the not-so-clever doctors had made for me, and I would find him.

I would find The Voice.

Author's Note

Any reviews greatly appreciated! I'm taking this story on as a summer project and seeing where it goes from there. Any tips could go a long way towards improving my writing (especially for school)
Thanks!

Reviews

[Ama May Cooper]

I love the representation of glass as like a level of conciusness almost a barrier shattering before his hands, Another wonderful piece the eagerness to read on almost tearing me away from even pausing to comment. This is truely a fantastic piece of work, i can feel his screams shuddering through me.

[Cece]

I think this is another amazing chapter! I'm really interested to see how you continue this exactly. I think its going to be hard to top these first two, but you can do it! Keep writing :)

[SomeoneSomewhere]

Thanks! Reviews always bring a smile to my face:D

[Admiral Kirk]

Great story! My laptop suddenly put this huge battery level alert on the screen, and even that didn't break the flow of this piece. It's interesting how it flows when his thoughts are so scattered. This chapter was just as amazing as the last, and I definitely enjoyed reading it. The crazier, the better. :)

[SomeoneSomewhere]

Thanks!

[Admiral Kirk]

You're welcome.

[Persona]

I think you submitted this chapter for the contest as well. Sorry, but I felt like you focused on drama in this one and went on about "The Voice." I didn't really learn anything else about Leo. Try not to go down the 'crazy' route. This chapter is a bit disappointing compared to the first and I'd really love to see someone he knows come and visit him or something nice happening rather than the same bad stuff. It feels a little repetitive.

[Cece]

But its only her second chapter and the chapters are short. You have to remember this is just the beginning.