I hear a whisper, a song. Pitter Patter, Pitter Patter… It continues. The voice is rough and raises the hair on my arms. Pitter Patter, Pitter Patter goes the rain. Pitter Patter… I sit straight up in bed, wide eyed, trying to see through the thick darkness. Not again. I’ve dealt with this far too many times, I tell myself. As I try to stay calm, the voice continues. Pitter Patter, Pitter Patter… Louder. Pitter Patter in the spring, Pitter Patter, Pitter Patter… So loud. Pitter Patter… I cover my ears, screaming. A light turns on. Hands touch me and try to calm me down, but all I can hear is the voice. Pitter Patter, Pitter Patter, Pitter Pat- Silence. I collapse into my sheets, beads of sweat rolling down my forehead. And then I hear the noise again. Pitter Patter, Pitter Patter… This time it is the sound of my tears.

Morning arrives quickly as I awaken to my mom’s voice. “Jani, honey, it’s time to wake up. You have a full day ahead of you,” she whispers softly as she strokes my hair. I open my eyes, smile and nod. I roll out of bed and walk downstairs to get some breakfast. I open the cabinet above the kitchen sink and take out my pills. I read the ever so familiar label on the bottle: Clozaril. This is the only medicine that works for my illness; none of the others have any positive affect. I pour out my usual two tablets and hesitate before adding an extra two to the lot. The unusual spell from the night before has made me nervous, and I don’t intend to deal with the voices again. They’ve made me crazy enough.

I go through my morning routine of eating, brushing my teeth and getting ready for school. After about a half an hour, I am ready and I walk into my mom’s office. “I’m ready to leave,” I say quietly.

“Okay! One second, let me finish up this report,” she replies cheerfully as she closes her laptop and grabs the key off of the kitchen table.

The drive to South View High School is a drag, as usual. I see the same trees that I have seen for the past four years, the same cracks in the sidewalk, wet from all of the April rain. The rain begins to pore and my mom turns the windshield wipers on. I watch them move back and forth and they begin moving so incredibly fast that I can’t see what is in front of the car anymore. The trees twist and turn into black, gnarled shapes. The sidewalk crumbles before my eyes and I feel as if I am falling into a pit of disturbing darkness that I will never escape. Then, the rain and windshield wipers stop, the trees are filled with color again and I am still. I exhale trying to keep calm for my mother’s sake, not wanting her to know about my second spell in the last 24 hours.

The car stops as we pull up to the curb at the front of the school. “Thanks, mom. I’ll see you in a bit,” I mutter under my breath. I step out of the car before she can reply and pick up my pace as I walk into the shelter of the school.

Just as I enter the usual school atmosphere, the bell rings, signaling the start of the day. I hurry to my locker, wanting to be away from all the bustling as soon as possible. “Good morning, John,” I manage to say to the boy that has been my locker neighbor for the past four years. He’s the only person in the school that doesn’t think I’m a complete freak, so I’ve practically spent all of my high school years with no conversation except for an awkward hello every morning.

“Hello, Jani,” he says with the usual cheerful ring to his voice. “How is your day going so far?”

“It’s only just started. But since you asked, it’s been a little off.”

“I know how you feel,” he says as he pushes up his glasses. “This rain has been really throwing me off lately. I’m actually missing the sunlight. However, you know what they say! April showers bring May flowers.”

“That’s reassuring,” I say with a slight smile.

He chuckles. “Well, I have to get to class. I hope your day turns out alright,” he remarks as he shuts his locker door and walks off, slinging his backpack over his left shoulder.

I finish up what I am doing within a few minutes time and then begin walking to first period science class, keeping my head down along the way. I arrive after just a few steps and plop down into my seat in the front of the classroom. The tardy bell rings signaling the start of class. I look over at the lizard in his large tank, the thick glass separating us. It looks as if his mouth is moving, but I’m not quite sure. I squint my eyes to check if what I’m seeing is real. Then, the voices begin.

Run, it rasps. They want to hurt you.

The horrifying smell of death seeps into my nose, gagging me. I cough and look around, all eyes on me. The voice continues. They’re going to kill you. Get out. Run.

“No,” I manage through the smell. “You’re lying. Leave me alone.”

Just wait, he says right before the freezing hands wrap around my neck. The faces around me turn evil before completely melting away. You are surrounded, the voice says. I know he is right.

I desperately search for an escape as the hands around my throat become tighter and tighter. I look out the window and see pouring rain. Through the droplets, I see a black cat with teeth as sharp as a tack. It begins to speak to me. Run, it says. They want to hurt you. The headless creatures around me begin to close in, trapping me between them and the lizard. Run, the cat repeats. Run, I hear the lizard speak. The hands around my neck release me and I gasp for air. I continue to breathe in and out. I am calm for a slight moment until the horrifying voice from last night takes my body into its control. Rough and loud, it yells in my mind and the choir of the cat and lizard join in the chant. RUN.

I scream and dart out of the classroom, running as fast as I can. The hallway walls twist and turn into frightening shapes and the floor collapses beneath my feet. I fall and feel a horrible pain in my head as I crash to the ground.

I wake up to the place that I spent most of my childhood in. Dimmed lights and white sheets surround me. I hear a continuous soft beep. It feels odd to be back after so many years. My mom sits in the far corner of the room in a green chair, typing ferociously. I turn my head slightly to get a better look at my surroundings, but pain spreads through my brain like a wildfire. I grit my teeth, groaning.
The right side of my face is hugely swollen. I can barely open my right eye. I touch my fingertip to my head and feel a large bandage that stretches from my forehead to my chin. I close my eyes. Thoughts float around in my head along with the horrifying memory of the voices that I hadn’t heard for so long until the past day. It seems as though the thought of them brings them to life, screaming in my mind.
Run.
“No. I’m tired of running. No more,” I reply.
Pitter Patter.
“Please,” I plead.
They don’t stop. I cry and I shake and I scream. I want it to be over. I want them out. I yell and I clench the sheets. Nurses rush in. The prick in my arm is nothing compared to the insanity in my mind. Slowly, the pain depletes along with my screams. All that I feel is the squeeze of my mom’s hand and the coolness of the sheets. All that I see is the shapes and swirls in the ceiling. All I smell is the scent of fresh soap. All that I hear is the subtle beep of the machine next to my bed. No more voices. I am free of them. And that is fine, just for now.