"Carly..."
I was in deep in slumber but I could hear it, again and again, over and over, hoarsely whispering my name,
"Carly..."
Every night that week, my sleep ridden mind had driven me into delusion and my body had shortly followed. Much to my protest of not wanting to rest I always did and it always resulted in my waking suddenly because of the calling of my name.
"Carly!"
That time, the voice had startled me so much, it pulled me sharply from my place of intense rest. I sat bolt upright on my bed, eyes darting about the dark room, as if searching for the source of the sound.
My forehead was dripping with sweat. I was too hot, perhaps over-heating. So, with all the strength I could muster, I dragged my shaking, weary body from the bed toward the air-conditioning control panel.
After sliding it all the way down to 18 and throwing the covers angrily from my bed, I laid down once more, trying to wish away the fever and the sound, even though, as hard as I tried, I could not rid myself of the voice that whispered to me every time I closed my eyes.
This had been a torment I had tried to deal with for a while, almost 12 months. Almost a year and I still couldn't get rid of it. Sometimes, it would go silent but only when I laid still. Often it was in the times when I imagined how being at the centre of a tornado would feel or how it would burn your lungs to try swim to the bottom of a really deep lake with one simple breath.
Those thoughts only silenced it for a brief moment, however, a brief moment is sometimes enough when you're to afraid to close your eyes and sleep. Sadly, falling asleep was something I had little control over. My body had always had a habit of being crushed by exhaustion and I would find myself falling asleep against my will.
"Carly..."
It was there once more. I grabbed a pillow, shoving it over my head to try and drown out the incessant murmur of my name. Go away, I thought but it continued.
"Go away!" This time, my demand was said aloud, I think something inside of me was hoping that saying it aloud instead of thinking it would give it reason to leave me alone.
It persisted much to my annoyance, and this time, the pillow was hurled across the room by me in a small fit of frustration. It crashed into the blinds and sent a small potted plant clattering onto the wooden floor. I wasn't sure what I had hoped to accomplish as I knew the voice wasn't coming from anywhere but inside my head. The only thing I had achieved was the loss of a pillow and an inconvenient mess for me to clear up in the morning.
I rolled over onto my stomach, my face buried into the fabric of the pillow. It made it hard to breath but I didn't want to breath. I wanted to scream as loud as I could and for as long as I could, until I was gasping for air. Anything to make this voice disappear.
Except I knew it wouldn't. It would haunt me for as long as I live. That's the thing about guilt, it's like an that old friend you can never really shift, the one that reminds you of things you'd rather not remember and never leaves your side.
