![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
He could hear voices as long as he could remember. Voices that no one else could hear no matter how hard they try to listen. They weren't inside his head, he heard them as though there was someone else present, but they couldn't be seen. The voices would speak to him a lot, and when he was younger, he enjoyed it. It was like having friends that were all his, ones that he didn't have to share. And he knew at one time, the voices, whoever they were, loved him. To them, he was special. A gift for being able to hear them.
"You make us so very happy Collin. You being here makes us so happy" they would tell him many times when he was young. They would whisper it into his ear as he drifted off to sleep. Even though they were incorporeal, he thought those words were as wonderful as when a parent would hug him.
They would tell him about his parents. Not about his adoptive parents, but his birth parents. They would talk about the father he never met, and the mother he only had very dim memories of. They knew things about them that no one knew, since no one in the community he grew up in knew about them. Every piece of information they gave him, he cherished like a priceless diamond.
"Your father loved chocolate covered strawberries," the voices told him one day when he was picking strawberries for his family. The ranch had a whole bush of strawberries because his adoptive mother loved them so, so his adoptive father planted it for her birthday.
"Really? I love those too!" He smiled and laughed at that bit of news. No matter how small that piece of information was, Collin loved that he had something in common with his father. It made him feel closer to him, even if he was gone.
Sometimes when he was scared or couldn't sleep at night, the voices would sing to him. It was always the same song. They told him that it was a song from his father's childhood, and that it was a very old song. It was simple and yet a beautiful song. Sung in a language that Collin never heard outside the song, yet for some reason he knew what it meant perfectly. Every time they sung the song, it made him feel happy and at peace with himself.
Just like every time they spoke when he was a child.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He let Aya sleep in his guest bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it was far from clean. But it was better than sending her out in the middle night to her own place. They had stayed up for a few more hours, discussing what they would do with so much money. Finally Aya, who was not used to the late night life, feel asleep at the table, nearly knocking over her drink. She also refused to wake up, being so worn out from the long day. Collin was finally resorted to carrying her to the guest room like a parent would for a small child. Like his parents used to do.
He watched her sleep for awhile, envying her how peaceful she seemed to look. It was easy for her to enter the world of dreams. Sure she had the occasional nightmare, like earlier tonight. But they were her nightmares, and hers alone. No one else could affect them, or change them.
He didn't get that luxury.
Collin looked over at the clock on the nightstand in the guest bedroom. It was nearly four in the morning, only a few more hours to go before the sun rose. Then he could finally get to sleep. Whatever it was that affected his dreams, they always seem to have less power when the sun was up. Or at least, it was harder to believe what they say during the day, unlike the night that is known for its share of secrets.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When was it that the voices stopped being a gift, but a curse? When did their relationship become from of love into one of hatred and contempt? Maybe it was when people started to think he was crazy, for hearing voices that weren't there. He knew it made his parents worry. At first they figured the voices he would respond to were just an imaginary friend that Collin created out of his active imagination. A friend that would eventually fade when he grew older.
But they didn't fade when he got older, which made them begin to worry even more. They thought that Collin was ill with a disease that makes you hear and see things that weren't there. Unfortunately, since he was born demon and living in the Outer Lands, it was hard to find anyone who could or would help him. He watched as his parents worry over him being ill, the worry lines that formed on their faces. It was bad enough their son was the only demon in the community, but one that could hear voices.
Sometimes, even though he loved the voices, he wished that he was born a normal boy so they wouldn't worry so much about him. He didn't like to see his kind human parents worry so much.
Maybe his hatred for the voices started when he was nine years old. When he was being picked on by some of the other kids for being the only demon. It was normal for him to be teased, but that day they were doing it more extreme than usual. They were hitting him, screaming at him that he was a filthy demon. They hit so hard he fell to the ground, his vision blackening around the edges.
The voices told him to defend himself, to fight off the bullies. That they would help him. He agreed to it, he just wanted the pain to stop. He trusted the voices not to help him, they loved him after all. He felt the pain from the hitting fade away, and felt himself getting stronger. He opened his eyes to see his hands forming giant claws out of his finger tips. A wave of horror went through him as he witness this transformation to his body. He felt himself lose control of his own body, as something that felt so old and primal took over his body. Whatever had control, got up and attacked one of the children, not for any reason besides they were the closest.
Collin remembered trying to scream, begging whatever it was to stop, but no sound would come out of his throat. He didn’t want this; he didn’t want to hurt anyone. He just wanted the pain to stop, not to cause more. But when he tried to resist the primal force, it hurt; like he was being pulled apart into pieces. Part of him wanted to give into whatever it was, but he knew if he did, something terrible would happen. So he kept fighting the force, until he manage to gain a little control of his body and pull himself away from the boy that he had attacked. He barely managed to see who it was before he blacked out, collapsing onto the school grounds next to the boy he had nearly killed.
He awoke to the sound of the voices, angry that he had stood up against them. They were trying to help him, and he was completely ungrateful to them. At the same time he heard his parents, demanding to know what happened out there. They were upset, angry, worried, and scared at what had happened. They knew that raising a demon would be difficult, but they could never imagine something like this happening. He couldn’t explain that it wasn’t his fault, that the voices did it, he was trying to stop them. As much as he loved his parents, they just refused to believe their son could hear voices. And they already worried about his sanity; he didn’t want to make it worse.
So, instead of answering either group of people, he just cried. He didn’t know what else to do with himself, except for cry.
Word Count: 1369
Total Word Count: 10581/50000
"You make us so very happy Collin. You being here makes us so happy" they would tell him many times when he was young. They would whisper it into his ear as he drifted off to sleep. Even though they were incorporeal, he thought those words were as wonderful as when a parent would hug him.
They would tell him about his parents. Not about his adoptive parents, but his birth parents. They would talk about the father he never met, and the mother he only had very dim memories of. They knew things about them that no one knew, since no one in the community he grew up in knew about them. Every piece of information they gave him, he cherished like a priceless diamond.
"Your father loved chocolate covered strawberries," the voices told him one day when he was picking strawberries for his family. The ranch had a whole bush of strawberries because his adoptive mother loved them so, so his adoptive father planted it for her birthday.
"Really? I love those too!" He smiled and laughed at that bit of news. No matter how small that piece of information was, Collin loved that he had something in common with his father. It made him feel closer to him, even if he was gone.
Sometimes when he was scared or couldn't sleep at night, the voices would sing to him. It was always the same song. They told him that it was a song from his father's childhood, and that it was a very old song. It was simple and yet a beautiful song. Sung in a language that Collin never heard outside the song, yet for some reason he knew what it meant perfectly. Every time they sung the song, it made him feel happy and at peace with himself.
Just like every time they spoke when he was a child.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He let Aya sleep in his guest bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it was far from clean. But it was better than sending her out in the middle night to her own place. They had stayed up for a few more hours, discussing what they would do with so much money. Finally Aya, who was not used to the late night life, feel asleep at the table, nearly knocking over her drink. She also refused to wake up, being so worn out from the long day. Collin was finally resorted to carrying her to the guest room like a parent would for a small child. Like his parents used to do.
He watched her sleep for awhile, envying her how peaceful she seemed to look. It was easy for her to enter the world of dreams. Sure she had the occasional nightmare, like earlier tonight. But they were her nightmares, and hers alone. No one else could affect them, or change them.
He didn't get that luxury.
Collin looked over at the clock on the nightstand in the guest bedroom. It was nearly four in the morning, only a few more hours to go before the sun rose. Then he could finally get to sleep. Whatever it was that affected his dreams, they always seem to have less power when the sun was up. Or at least, it was harder to believe what they say during the day, unlike the night that is known for its share of secrets.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When was it that the voices stopped being a gift, but a curse? When did their relationship become from of love into one of hatred and contempt? Maybe it was when people started to think he was crazy, for hearing voices that weren't there. He knew it made his parents worry. At first they figured the voices he would respond to were just an imaginary friend that Collin created out of his active imagination. A friend that would eventually fade when he grew older.
But they didn't fade when he got older, which made them begin to worry even more. They thought that Collin was ill with a disease that makes you hear and see things that weren't there. Unfortunately, since he was born demon and living in the Outer Lands, it was hard to find anyone who could or would help him. He watched as his parents worry over him being ill, the worry lines that formed on their faces. It was bad enough their son was the only demon in the community, but one that could hear voices.
Sometimes, even though he loved the voices, he wished that he was born a normal boy so they wouldn't worry so much about him. He didn't like to see his kind human parents worry so much.
Maybe his hatred for the voices started when he was nine years old. When he was being picked on by some of the other kids for being the only demon. It was normal for him to be teased, but that day they were doing it more extreme than usual. They were hitting him, screaming at him that he was a filthy demon. They hit so hard he fell to the ground, his vision blackening around the edges.
The voices told him to defend himself, to fight off the bullies. That they would help him. He agreed to it, he just wanted the pain to stop. He trusted the voices not to help him, they loved him after all. He felt the pain from the hitting fade away, and felt himself getting stronger. He opened his eyes to see his hands forming giant claws out of his finger tips. A wave of horror went through him as he witness this transformation to his body. He felt himself lose control of his own body, as something that felt so old and primal took over his body. Whatever had control, got up and attacked one of the children, not for any reason besides they were the closest.
Collin remembered trying to scream, begging whatever it was to stop, but no sound would come out of his throat. He didn’t want this; he didn’t want to hurt anyone. He just wanted the pain to stop, not to cause more. But when he tried to resist the primal force, it hurt; like he was being pulled apart into pieces. Part of him wanted to give into whatever it was, but he knew if he did, something terrible would happen. So he kept fighting the force, until he manage to gain a little control of his body and pull himself away from the boy that he had attacked. He barely managed to see who it was before he blacked out, collapsing onto the school grounds next to the boy he had nearly killed.
He awoke to the sound of the voices, angry that he had stood up against them. They were trying to help him, and he was completely ungrateful to them. At the same time he heard his parents, demanding to know what happened out there. They were upset, angry, worried, and scared at what had happened. They knew that raising a demon would be difficult, but they could never imagine something like this happening. He couldn’t explain that it wasn’t his fault, that the voices did it, he was trying to stop them. As much as he loved his parents, they just refused to believe their son could hear voices. And they already worried about his sanity; he didn’t want to make it worse.
So, instead of answering either group of people, he just cried. He didn’t know what else to do with himself, except for cry.
Word Count: 1369
Total Word Count: 10581/50000