Two Voices Arguing In My Head Novels & Stories

I retorted. "Are you always like this?" My eyes snapped to him. "Stubborn and not scared of what your actions would put you?" "Why should I? I am not some coward, I don't want to die many times before I die." "How many voices do you have?" His words came out, and my eyes snapped to him, his gaze got thicker and his eyes squinted. "Voice?" I asked. "Yes, why do I feel that you have two voices and one is a borrowed one while the rebellious one, strikes me like that is your real voice?" I swallow hard, as he takes a step closer while I take a step backward. "Am I speaking the truth"

I gulp, rising to my feet and getting away from the bed. The disgust has returned. Wolf doesn’t call me again and just watches me as I make a run for the door and then stumble out of the room. Stefan, Kane and Cassius are right outside. They turn to me in surprise when I stumble out. They don’t wait for me to say something and rush inside. I don’t wait for anything and continue to walk. ‘ You should have let him die. ’ A new voice hisses accusingly. At this point, I can understand one thing. There are good voices in my head and there are evil voices as well. How to differentiate between them? That’s what I should find out.

I tried to find places to hide. I thought it would block out the voices a little, so I often went to the library and the theatre. I would sit at the back of the theatre and watch the drama class sometimes and it was a good discraction at first. Until that one drama student's voice crept into my head and made me go a little crazier. I saw him in the first row of the theatre, looking up at the class acting out some scene. I couldn't see his expression very well so that's when I let his thoughts enter my head. He was a deep thinker and journal writer, so his thoughts seemed to be endless. It started with:

my mother's voice echoed in my head. Overwhelmed by the voices and the image of Levine writhing in agony, I lurched backward, shutting my ears to drown out the terrible echoes. But tears flowed down my cheeks, and the voices persisted in tormenting me. I exited the room, unable to handle the weight of it all, seeking sanctuary from the misery eating my spirit.

He shook his head vigorously, attempting to shake away the feeling of being watched or the idea that someone was in fact staring at him. "It isn't real..." He chanted, his breathing picking up speed as he struggled to pull himself together, the voice whispering in his ear sounding less and less amused with each attempt he took to calm himself. "It's not real... It's just your imagination running wild again... None of it is real Logan ol' boy... You're not seeing things... you're not crazy..." He fell to his knees, shaking violently yet his eyes stayed locked with those glowing crimson orbs, the whispers never ceasing. He was hearing voices in his head. Like the eyes were trying to communicat

The realization that there were multiple voices inside, where typically there would be none, added layers of confusion and concern. With my heart pounding in my ears, I pressed my ear against the door, attempting to discern the words being exchanged inside. The voices tangled into an indiscernible din, the specifics of the conversation eluding me. Frustrated and fueled by a mix of concern and a growing sense of dread, I decided to take a more direct approach. Gently, almost hesitantly, I pushed the door open just a crack. The room was not immediately visible through the narrow opening, and the voices halted abruptly—had they heard the creak of the door?

“She is not thinking straight. Look at her. She is sick. She is weak. And you are here arguing with me like you have the right.” Their voices clashed, bouncing off the walls. The sound pressed into my head and made my stomach twist tighter. I pressed both hands against my temples, but they did not stop. “Stop,” I said, but my voice was too soft. They kept going, words sharp, cutting over each other. “Stop,” I said louder. This time, they froze. Tears filled my eyes before I even realized they were there. Hot and heavy, they spilled down my cheeks. My throat ached as I forced the words out. “Both of you. Stop fighting.”

I ask. “Then she breaks herself,” he answers. My pulse pounds. “There has to be another way.” “There is,” he says. “But it hurts.” I laugh once. Bitter. “Everything does.” “Not like this,” he replies. The bond shifts. I feel something else now. Pressure. Voices. Distant but loud. “You hear them,” he says. “Yes,” I whisper. “Gods.” “They’re arguing,” he says. “They’re afraid.” I snarl. “Good.”

He let out a weak groan and pulled me close to himself. "I don't know what's going on with me" he whispered. "Theo-". "Listen to me..... I-I have horrible mood swings and I-I get horrible thoughts because of the voices in my head" "Voices? Don't tell me you've been possessed by Barza" I said, dread poisoning my veins. "N-no. I'm not possessed. I would know if I was possessed. I don't even know what I'm saying- " "It's okay.... take deep breaths" I whispered, brushing his hair away from his face.

Quarreling voices disrupt the pain raging in my brain, and I ask myself if it is just my sanity leaving my body for good as I shouldn’t be able to get any mind link. I can’t quite understand what they are discussing, but they seem like brothers fighting for a piece of food and my chuckle at the thought of it bubbles up my throat painfully. The Judge must be distracted as the pain streaming through my flesh diminishes, and I see his eyes wandering from one side to the other, checking what seems to be standing behind me. ‘No! Stop it! Stay down!’ one of the deep, foreign voices screams in my head. ‘How are you even able to stand up?’