The first time I hear it, I think it's my imagination. Just a whisper, soft as breath, curling through the air when the night is still. But then it happens again. And again. The voice is familiar. It calls my name, stretching the syllables like a secret, murmuring in the spaces between my thoughts.
At first, I tell myself I'm just tired. Work has been draining, my sleep is erratic. I've read about auditory hallucinations - how the mind plays tricks when deprived of rest. But this isn't exhaustion. It's something else. Something creeping, slithering beneath my skin.
Jide, my best friend, scoffs when I tell him. "Bro, you need a vacation. Or a girlfriend. Maybe both." He laughs. I force myself to laugh, too.
But my sister, Amara, doesn't laugh. She watches me closely, her eyes sharp with quiet concern. "Leon," she says, voice gentle but firm, "maybe you should see someone."
I shake my head. She doesn't understand. No one does. But I know. Something is breaking inside me.
At first, I tell myself I'm just tired. Work has been draining, my sleep is erratic. I've read about auditory hallucinations - how the mind plays tricks when deprived of rest. But this isn't exhaustion. It's something else. Something creeping, slithering beneath my skin.
Jide, my best friend, scoffs when I tell him. "Bro, you need a vacation. Or a girlfriend. Maybe both." He laughs. I force myself to laugh, too.
But my sister, Amara, doesn't laugh. She watches me closely, her eyes sharp with quiet concern. "Leon," she says, voice gentle but firm, "maybe you should see someone."
I shake my head. She doesn't understand. No one does. But I know. Something is breaking inside me.
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