Descending

~I don't necessarily want to be happy; I just want to stop feeling miserable.~

"So that's when it all started?" Gus Vita, my psychologist asks, scribbling away furiously on a brown notepad. That's all he does, scribble and write on those pages, occasionally asking me questions, but mostly making me talk. He doesn't care. I know he doesn't. If he did, maybe he'd make eye contact with me for once.

"Yes." I say, my voice a bit hoarse from disuse. I don't really talk nowadays, although everyone around me seems adamant on getting me to speak. I don't know why; I have nothing to say. There's nothing to talk about anymore.

"And you started hearing voices directly after Alicia left?" He questions, stopping his incessant writing in order to let me speak again. He looks up, looking past me, not at me. I shrink in on myself, feeling exposed but invisible. Talking is too hard.

"Yes." I say, looking down at my clasped hands on my lap. The bright lights from the florescent bulbs on the ceiling seem to blind me, making me a little dizzy.

This is what the rest of your life is going to be like, Mikey. You better fucking get used to it.

Go away!

No. You deserve this. I'm here because I'm supposed to be here, Mikey. To put you in your place.

Stop, please...

"Mikey?" I snap my eyes up, looking over to Dr. Vita, his interruption thankfully silencing that nasty voice. That voice that haunts me. That voice that never leaves.

"I'm sorry, what?" I say, shaking my head, trying to rid it of the dreaded voice. Maybe it won't come back if I speak.

"I asked you how often you hear the voice." Mr. Vita says, his eyes watching me carefully. He silently jots something down on the pad, then stops, looking back up at me and waiting for my answer.

I look down, swallowing then taking a breath. "Every day."

"Every day?" He repeats. I nod, looking to the wall, not wanting to look at him anymore. It's uncomfortable to talk about. Maybe that's why this voice has so much power over me; I just can't talk about it. "What does it say?"

I blink, my throat constricting. It's like it doesn't want me to say anything. I open my mouth, willing some sound to come out, but not even air escapes. I hang my head, shaking it.

"Mikey, please." Dr. Vita says, his dark blue eyes, for the first time since this session started, locking on mine. "I want to help you. I can't if you don't talk to me." His voice is calm and sincere. I want to say something, but my throat wont unclench. I shake my head again.

He can't help you anyway, Mikey. You're fucked and you know it.

No, I'm not...

Yes you are. You need to stop lying to yourself. This is all a waste of time.

...I know.

"Michael?" I look up to see Dr. Vita starting at me, a worried expression on his face. He's quiet for a moment, staring into my eyes. "Are you...are you hearing them now? The voices?" He puts his pad to the side, resting it softly on his desk.

I shake my head quickly. No. It's just one voice.

He tilts his head, stare intensifying. "I think you're lying to me, Mikey. I think you are hearing them." I swallow nervously and shake my head again. Dr. Vita leans forwards. "It's okay to tell me the truth, Mikey. It can't hurt you."

No, it can't. But I can.

I shake my head again, grabbing my coat from the back of the chair and putting it on, walking to the door. "Michael Way!" Dr. Vita calls from behind me. Nervously I stop, turning around to face him. He's standing, arm outstretched as if to call me back. Slowly, he lowers his hand, keeping his eyes trained on mine. "Come back tomorrow. One thirty. I'll be waiting for you." He nods at me then picks up his notepad, scribbling yet more notes down.

Fuck that, Mikey. We're not coming back here. He's wasting your time.

After a few moments, I nod back, pulling my coat tighter to me and walking out the door, wondering if it would actually make any difference if I did come back.

No it wont. I'm not going away. Get that through your head.

I sigh, a tiny sob working its way through my still constricted throat. It's probably right...