Being a mute used to be simple before all the craziness started. I just can't talk and that's who I am. Mum has learned to accept that and I guess so have I. Everything was just fine in my high school in Shanghai. I had finally made it to year twelve and even though I was in China, I was actually being treated as a human being despite my disability. Things were definitely not perfect but I would give anything to go back to that, like it was before. I heard my first voice that year, right at the beginning of year 12. I didn’t really have any real friends, but I was used to it and before the voices started, I was fine with that. But it all changed when I first heard them. The voices inside their heads started then and my life was never the same. They weren't just thinking about school or they girls or guys they were into, no they were thinking about doing things, doing horrible things to each other and I was the only one that knew how messed up they really were.View More
I woke up to find a stack of books on my bedside. They were all about meditation so I opened one up to find sticky notes stuck in between chapters. I had been writing about meditation too, there was a notebook filled with notes on Buddhism and meditation but I couldn't remember writing it.So I started reading and couldn't stop. I read about spiritual, mindfulness and transendental meditation. I opened up my laptop and found that my YouTube account was filled with meditation videos and Buddhist stuff. So I started watching them. I watched them all day and continued this the following day. I read the books on my bedside and started meditation in on my bed. Soon I was writing more notes and taking less medication.I went on like this for months, meditating and studying Buddhism. I started to feel more relaxed and stopped taking my medication. I meditated every day and soon Mum was smiling at me when I ate dinner.She said, 'Wow, I'm really please
After that, I became clearer and focused. The consequences were really bad but there was no stopping me. I couldn't go on hearing those voices so I had to do something about it. I had to punish them all. They were all sick, crazy, or just plain evil so they needed to stop, I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was special and was given this gift for a reason. I had to get myself together first, prove to Mum I could go back to school, and not freak out. I started eating better again and I even exercised in the mornings. I did sit-ups and push-ups, right outside Mum's bedroom, so she could hear of course. After a few weeks, I was improving and on my way to starting my grand plan.Mum even told me, 'Wow, you are looking much healthier, I'm so proud of you for taking care of yourself!'I just nodded and continued my self-improvement act, just to get permission back to school.Later she told me, 'Now, we can't have something like that happeni
The number man was the last voice I listened to before I took action. He was too much like me to ignore. He was arrested, the police came to our school and picked him up without too much resistance. After that, I put my plan in order. My plan to stop the voices and punish them for all their evil ways. I wasn't going to rush into it, I planned everything way better than all those crazy voices in my head. Though the number man was the worst of them all. He made it all clear.Before I start, I must warn you of my compulsive writing. My narrative will inevitably be interrupted by memorized mathematical equations, mostly of a trigonometric and algebraic nature. In fact, sometimes I just can’t stop writing numbers. Some people think being a genius is a blessing; in my case, it has been a curse and a sickness that drove me insane. A genius requires constant challenges and must maintain concentration at all times to stay stimulated. I became obsessed
Now, I knew about peer pressure at school, but the next voice that entered my head took it to another level. The things his friends did to him made me take action, finally. I was hooked on his thoughts because of my interest in Kung-fu. But that wasn't Kung-fu at all, that was just violence. His voice spoke to me and said:Everyone at school thought the Kung-fu Gang was a complete joke. Kids usually laughed as they walked past with their matching white headbands on. There were Chinese characters written on the middle of their headbands, I knew what they meant: Kung-fu! I thought they were so cool, but no one else did. The other kids often called them “Kung-fu Freaks” when they weren’t around. Theywere always together, and it seemed that whenever they passed me that they were walking in slow motion.The five-member gang didn’t care about popularity. They were way too focused to let anything that unimpor
The dark voice came to me and seemed to guide me up out of my bed like it was controlling me. It said:You must go to this boy and listen to his voice. He is young and pure yet he has still turned to wicked ways due to the horrible society he lives in. Read his thoughts and know his pain!So I found myself at school in the primary area again. There he was, writing in his diary. His voice sounded innocent but I found out he was far from it. I heard:Now I was never much of a soccer fan, being a girl and all but I wasn't completely clueless. I knew about the most famous team in the world, Man United, but every time I heard that name, saw the team on TV, or even saw someone wearing one of their Jerseys in the subway I'd think of my Grandma. The only reason for this is because when I was at school, she was a part of this crazy organization that all the kids called Grans United. Sure, it wasn't Man United, but it rhymed an
Back at school, at least I thought I was at school, I noticed that kid that everyone was talking about. He was tall, cool and I heard he was good at everything. The teachers loved him and so did most of the girls. I watched him and saw a sadness in his eyes. Then his voice came to me:Everyone thinks I have it easy. They see me pass by and want to be me. I couldn’t blame them before I used to know why; I was perfect, at least everyone else thought so. Perfect hair, a perfect row of white teeth. Tall, fairly healthy and fit. My hair always seemed to be the envy of every kid in the school, both boys and girls. I was also the captain of the football team and we were on a twelve-game winning streak. Everyone on the team basically worshiped me and even the coach had this weird fascination with me. He’d message me on the phone and follow me around school like he was one of my friends.
I just got another text from Mum: Please remember your medication, your doctor says you aren't taking any.It seemed like ages since I had seen Mum. At the time I didn't even realise why or really understand how much time it had been between meds. I had been blocking it out, my doctor, the meds and everything. They say the brain is an expert at blocking out things. I had no idea. I thought I was at school, watching this vegetarian girl frowning in the food court. I thought I was listening to her thoughts. This is what I heard:Death to all meat eaters is secretly tattooed on my right shoulder. It’s what I’ve grown to believe and embrace. It has become my sole purpose in life. I know what you’re thinking. How can someone as small as me, be a killer? Well, it’s time you knew the truth. Sometimes you need to keep your eyes on the quiet ones.
It had been a few days, or maybe it was weeks since I had last taken any medication. I was about to take it, when I saw this girl I recognised at the bus stop, from school. She had short hair and her name was Robin. I used to think she was cool until I started reading her thoughts. Turns out murder wasn't the only horrible thing some of the students around me were up to. The voice from her mind came to me fast and overwhelmed me. I sat down next to her and she didn't even notice me. The chattering began from her head quickly:They say money is the root of all evil. To me, it just makes me sick. In fact, the sight and smell of it actually makes me want to throw up. I think I am really allergic. I can't stand all kinds of money, even coins annoy me.I used to think I was lucky living in the era of digital transfers. Everyone is obsessed with money, but they never see it, they are constantly paying for everything without seeing a single note. I used to be hap
So I didn't hear any voices for a while after that. I actually got some school work done and things were almost getting back to normal again. Though when I would go by the theatre I would think about what I had heard and when I saw kids playing basketball I'd think about that kid being held captive. I didn't know where to start to help them all. It was so overwhelming. I found myself in the art room, at the back, looking at a beautiful painting by one of my classmates. I looked up to see Xiaoping, who was an amazing artists. She had just won some art prize for her sculptures. She was writing something down at her desk so I instantly her thoughts entered my head:I was the artist of the school. In fact, it’s safe to say I was the best artist in the school. My work was widely considered brilliant among both teachers and students. One of my paintings, a realisticand detailed interpretation of our art teacher, Mr. Hadidi, was evenput up in
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