Voices

by Phyllis P. Colucci

  …Rosalie was overcome with emotion from her visit with Millie and held onto a renewed strength that she hoped would sustain her through the evening so she could speak with Franco. Millie empowered Rosalie with confidence and stamina in order to allow her to do what she needs to do. With a sigh of relief, Rosalie walked down to the fish market to pick up some wild salmon for dinner tonight, then decided she may try to get some mystery writing in once she gets home while her mind is relaxed and capable of creating a good storyline, hopefully with no gruesome distractions from the cellar. Her writing kept her functioning and her writing kept her living, but Rosalie also attributed her current serenity to Millie’s comforting words, Rosalie’s dose of xanax, and some wishful thinking.

  …Unfortunately, however, while in the comfort of her own home and an hour into her writing, the torture began again. - “Rosalie! Rosalie! Come down to the cellar Rosalie! We’ve been waiting for you for so long…Please come join us our Rosalie…We know you hear us…Come see us Rosalie! Now!” - Rosalie’s fingers grew cold and stiff as they remained on her keyboard. She was right back to feeling frightened, lost, isolated and victimized – by something she couldn’t see, by something she couldn’t explain. The moaning started again! The multiple chatter! What was happening to her? She couldn’t tell what was real and what was not. What was she hearing? Was this all in her mind, or was there something evil down that cellar? Rosalie didn’t know what to do or where to go. She no longer felt safe in her own home. She was paralyzed by these voices and held prisoner by her fear. There was nowhere to run. She was trapped by these voices. They were always there. How could this be happening, she thought to herself. Who or what is behind these voices? She questioned her own sanity again. “Am I really crazy?” she asked herself. “This just can’t be,” she thought. Rosalie felt so sane, so normal. There has to be a reasonable explanation. Despite her trying to figure this out in her head, one thing remained certain – Rosalie was frightened and surely threatened...In a matter of seconds, Rosalie moved from safe mode to the danger zone. This was now her norm. The fear that ignited inside her brain left her body immobile, almost as if she were restrained by a straightjacket. She felt glued to the ground, unable to walk, unable to run. Her legs were like cement blocks weighing her down. Something sinister has rendered Rosalie helpless and taken full control of her. She was losing her mind at this point and felt as if she had stepped out of her body watching this happen to someone else; but this was happening only to Rosalie. She remained disabled and a victim of the unknown.

  Rosalie couldn’t rationalize what was happening. She couldn’t determine if the voices were tormenting her or if she was tormenting herself. Her mind cried out for answers, but nothing made any sense. She felt lost between two worlds; her world and the world of insanity. Rosalie stood silent, still paralyzed by fear, listening again for that one horribly familiar voice that calls out to her, for the many voices that cry out in unison, for the ghostly moaning that sends chills up her spine; but now she heard nothing. Was it over for the moment? Or was her crazy mind just lucid for the moment? The despair she felt was unbearable. Rosalie was so confused that she slowly began to convince herself that perhaps she was crazy. This was a constant battle going on inside herself. Yet she also felt the deepest need to prove otherwise.

  …Suddenly she was free to move, released from the chains of wickedness that held her captive on the spot. She found the courage to immediately jump from her seat at the computer in her bedroom, over to the air shaft in her kitchen. She pressed her ear up against the paneling and listened…She heard nothing. She listened again. – Nothing. So she waited nervously at the air shaft almost wanting to hear the voices, struggling to hear those voices, praying to hear those voices. This time she was summoning those voices to come to her in order to prove to herself that she is surely hearing something, that this is not in her head, that she is not crazy…Soon enough, there it was! The “voice”! She listened as it called out to her again. “Rosalie! We want to see you, we want to talk with you. Come to us Rosalie! Come to the cellar!” That voice was so eerie and so terribly ghastly and far from normal. Rosalie became so frightened that she leaked a bit of urine right through to her panties. She lost control of her bladder and control of her senses. Her heart started beating a mile a minute, straight out of her chest, as her eyes twitched and fluttered from nerves. Tears ran down her cheeks uncontrollably while the salt taste fell upon her lips and tongue. She now regretted wanting, wishing and praying to hear those voices just to prove her own sanity. Rosalie realized the voices were stronger than she was, but she also realized they were not living in her head, they were living down in her cellar.

  The ghastly moaning chilled her to the bone. It continued on for the next couple of minutes, echoing in her ears and pounding at her brain. Rosalie was losing it. Out of desperation, she wondered for a moment if she should call Millie and have Millie come by to see if she hears what Rosalie is hearing. Rosalie needed that validation. Then Rosalie quickly decided against it. Millie was just too old to be put through that. Besides, by the time Millie would arrive, the voices would most likely go silent again; which always seems to happen whenever someone else is home with Rosalie. It’s almost as if those voices know if and when Rosalie is alone. Those voices are playing with her and playing hard. For some reason they mean business, and Rosalie is their business. “My God,” she thought to herself, “if I’m not crazy yet, this is going to push me to insanity. How can I go on like this?” Rosalie took the palms of both her hands and banged them loudly against the air shaft panel, screaming, “Stop it! Stop it! You’re not real! Leave my cellar! Leave my home! Leave me!”

  Once again Rosalie ran into her tiled bathroom to hide; her only solace from all this madness. She closed the door behind her, then sat on the bathroom floor violently grabbing for the oversized bath towel hanging on the towel rack. She wrapped herself up in that towel like a child in a blanket. Overcome by panic and exhaustion, Rosalie fell asleep on the cold bathroom floor for the next few hours, waiting for Franco and sedated by fear.

  …The house seemed quiet for awhile as Rosalie remained sleeping. As it was nearing late afternoon towards early evening, Franco returned home. He called out for Rosalie several times, but she didn’t answer. He looked around the kitchen for signs of dinner in progress, but everything was in place, nothing was on the stove or in the oven. He walked into the bedroom and saw that the computer was on and Rosalie’s writing material was strewn about. Now Franco was a bit worried…but then it dawned on him. Rosalie must be hiding in the bathroom like the last time…but not again, he thought, not again!

  He wondered, however, why she hadn’t answered him when he called out her name. So he approached the bathroom door and knocked like a gentleman, fearing the worst - another episode of “hiding from the voices”. Since Rosalie still hadn’t answered him, Franco slowly opened the bathroom door only to find Rosalie wrapped in a towel in a fetal position on the cold floor. He yelled, “Rosalie! What happened? Are you okay?” Rosalie looked up at Franco, so glad to see that it was him, then jumped to her feet. She tried desperately to break free from the tightly wound towel which stifled her movements. Once she unraveled herself from the large bath towel, she just ran into Franco’s arms and cried. Franco held her tightly, as she shook uncontrollably. He asked her if she was hearing voices again. Rosalie responded softly through her tears, “Yes Franco. Again. I heard this one horrible, wretched voice summoning me to the cellar. Then the moaning started. Something is after me.” Franco responded, “Not again Rosalie. Don’t tell me it’s happening again…and again…and again.”

  …Franco helped Rosalie to the sofa and sat her down. There was an uncomfortable silence between them for a short while until Franco said, “I spoke to Maria a little while ago. She called me Rosalie to tell me...” - Rosalie stopped Franco in his tracks and blurted out, “She called to tell you what Franco?” Rosalie then followed up by saying, “Yes Franco. Yes. Whatever Maria told y
ou is all true.” Rosalie politely asked Franco to not say a word and to just listen and hear her out. She stated to Franco that she figured Maria had gotten to him already. Rosalie asked if Maria told him how Rosalie had accused her of having the “hots” for him. How Maria suggested that Rosalie put herself into a psychiatric hospital for evaluation! “Oh, but she was doing this out of love and friendship,” Rosalie exclaimed. Rosalie ranted and raved about the fact that her very best friend Maria, instead of supporting her, is now trying to get her out of the way so she could perhaps step right in, take her place and steal her boyfriend.

  Franco just gazed into Rosalie’s hazel eyes with a look of pity. This look destroyed Rosalie. She wanted Franco to look at her with love and understanding, not pity. Franco just shook his head back and forth in pain and anguish and said, “You’re mixed up Rosalie. You’re confused and way out of line here. I’m truly sorry for you. It’s killing me to see you like this. You’re not thinking rationally. These ‘voices’ are destroying you.”

  Rosalie could see Franco was hurting, but so was she. She is the one who has to endure the chaos and torment from the voices on a daily basis. She is a prisoner to an intangible force that has infiltrated her life and her home. She is the one whose mental state is in question. She begged Franco to look past the craziness and see that the woman who stands before him is perfectly fine. Something is going on that cannot be explained right now. Franco continued to shake his head back and forth unable to offer the comfort and support Rosalie so desperately needed, and so desperately wanted. Rosalie yelled out, “Talk to me Franco! Say something!” Franco stared at Rosalie and said, “Maria is still your best friend Rosalie. You have to know that deep down in your heart. You hurt her today. She didn’t deserve that. She is only trying to help you, as I am. She is not trying to come between us, take your place in the relationship and tear us apart. There is no truth to that at all. Don’t you think I would know if something like that was going on Rosalie? Do you think I’d allow something like that to happen between you and me? Never!...These ‘voices’ have clouded your better judgment beyond reason. Can’t you see what’s happening to you, to me, to us – and to your relationship with Maria? Destruction Rosalie! Please don’t let this happen. This is all in your head like those voices you’re hearing. Maria and I are both so frustrated and worried sick for you. Honestly, I am not trying to hurt you Rosalie, but I think Maria’s suggestion of you signing yourself into a psychiatric facility may be the only way to go at this point. Get the help you need Rosalie! Please! Do it for you if not for us Rosalie. I think we should call your psychiatrist in the morning.”

  Rosalie stood frozen on the spot. She felt sick. She felt nauseous. She couldn’t believe her ears. She felt betrayed by the one man she trusted the most. The one man who professed his love for her…Her head was pounding, her heart was aching, and she could feel the rage setting her soul on fire. Instead of Franco trying to help her solve these unexplained events, he chose to side with Maria and believe that Rosalie is perhaps mentally unstable. How could she win this battle when her boyfriend and her best friend cannot find a way to trust her, to listen to her, to hear her out, to support her? They’ve already decided that Rosalie is on the brink of insanity. How could they think such a thing? They’ve known Rosalie too long and too well to react to her in this way. Rosalie felt as if she was falling into a bottomless pit, lost forever.

  Unable to look at Franco, and feeling deeply wounded, Rosalie went into the kitchen and removed the salmon from the refrigerator. She threw it across the table and told Franco to cook his own dinner since this mentally unstable woman needs to prepare herself for tomorrow, the day that her boyfriend and her best friend plan to have her committed to a mental institution.

  Franco turned his back on Rosalie and headed for the front door. As he walked out of the apartment he said, “The choice is yours Rosalie. Not mine, and not Maria’s. It was a valid suggestion, and only because Maria cares about you. I care about you. We don’t know how else to help you Rosalie. I’m sorry, but I think Maria is right about this. You have to come to terms with your problem and get the help you need Rosalie! I’ll grab a burger down at the sports bar. Don’t wait up.” Within moments, Franco was gone. Rosalie was left alone to wallow in her sorrow and suffer in her own misery while fright lingered over her shoulder at every moment. She went into the bedroom, took another xanax, and cried herself to sleep.

  CHAPTER SEVEN – ROSALIE CONFIDES IN MICHAEL

  Morning blanketed Rosalie’s bedroom in sunlight, with its rays shining through the slats of the mini-blinds, stretching across the room like a cloud of gold. The light from the sun seemed to be tapping at her eyelids, forcing her to wake up and open her eyes. Sure enough that’s exactly what she did. Rosalie didn’t need the sun to force her up, her body just knew it was time to start the day. For a quick moment, she had forgotten that Franco walked out of the apartment in anger last night…that he had sided with Maria about Rosalie getting a psychological evaluation in a mental hospital...and, more importantly, that he didn’t believe Rosalie when she told him that Maria may be coming between them. As Rosalie became fully awake, so did the realization that her life was falling apart. The butterflies in her stomach validated that truth.

  She glanced over to Franco’s side of the bed and saw that he was asleep next to her. She didn’t know what time he came home last night, but she was still happy to see him there. Her eyes were fixed upon every intricate fold and wrinkle of the bedsheet that outlined the form of Franco’s body as he lay sleeping. Normally she would cuddle up next to him, but things were not the same anymore. What seemed so pleasant and so natural to do, suddenly became strange and awkward. Their love was dying little by little, day by day, like the falling autumn leaves of a tree; and soon their relationship will be just as bare.

  Rosalie gently pushed the sheets off her body and placed her feet on the bedroom floor, slowly rising from the bed so as not to wake Franco. She was trying to spare them both from the uncomfortable feeling of waking up face to face under the disheartening circumstances of their relationship. Unfortunately, she didn’t succeed. Franco turned towards Rosalie, then remained flat on his back gazing up at the ceiling without saying a word. He continued to gaze upward with a blank stare and little emotion. Rosalie couldn’t bear to watch his face. She could almost sense what Franco was thinking and she knew it wasn’t anything good. Whatever he was thinking was coming from somewhere deep down in his soul; and not from a place of love, but from a place of scorn.

  Rosalie put on her robe and her slippers, then continued to make her way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. She took a seat at the kitchen table while tearfully listening to nothing but wall to wall silence and the intermittent ticking of the kitchen clock. Her eyes periodically glanced over to the paneled air shaft as she waited to hear the awful voices that were destroying her life. However, she knew there would be no voices while Franco was home, and somehow those voices knew it too. Could this really be all in her imagination with her mind playing tricks on her? - No, Rosalie cannot go there! She cannot start doubting herself! She is the only one she can trust besides wonderful Millie, who will not let Rosalie go down that road either. Something evil is going on and together they will figure this out.

  Still, Rosalie’s heart was breaking as she tried to come to terms with the fact that Franco, the love of her life, did not support her claims that something else was happening here and she wasn’t going crazy. - No! He just couldn’t and wouldn’t believe that! He believed she seriously needed help and there was nothing else to consider in the matter. But then again maybe Franco is right, maybe Maria is right, maybe she is crazy! Rosalie was frustrated, she was confused, she just couldn’t think clearly any longer. Giving up seemed to be the easiest thing to do now...But again – No! She cannot go there! She cannot continue to doubt herself, or for sure she will fall victim to the “voices”. Something horrible is happening to her and Rosalie must fight to survive.


  Maybe it is Maria who is putting more wood on the fire, she thought. Maria, her very best friend, saw the opportunity to use Rosalie’s mental state as an excuse to come between Rosalie and Franco, and took that opportunity without a second thought. But why? To break them up and move right in on Rosalie, straight into Franco’s arms? Rosalie thought, “My God. Maybe Millie was right about Maria all along. She never trusted her and I was too close with Maria to see this.” Rosalie tried fighting off these thoughts because she wanted them out of her head. These thoughts were killing her. They were stinging her heart like a swarm of bees, leaving Rosalie feeling sick, hurt, and helpless. Maria was her trusted friend, this just couldn’t be. Rosalie grew more perplexed with each passing minute. Then she thought that maybe it is true that her boyfriend and her best friend are trying desperately to help her. That thought didn’t hurt as much. She so wanted to believe it to be true. The alternative was too much to take. Rosalie was fighting to keep her trust in Franco and Maria. The more she thought about it, the more her heart was convincing her to trust them. Her mind, however, was fighting back in the opposite direction, but Rosalie was losing this battle. The reality of the situation was beginning to push Rosalie into a deep denial. A denial that offered her protection and false hope. She was growing weaker and more vulnerable. She was suddenly feeling guilty about the entire matter. “How could I be so ungrateful to Franco and Maria?” she asked herself. “They are only trying to help me, and I need them,” she thought. “Maybe dear Millie is reading too much into Maria and confusing me in the process,” Rosalie cried to herself. Sure, she thought. That could very well be. Franco and Maria are the two people in her life whom she trusted the most for the longest time. How could she doubt them now? Maybe she should see the psychiatrist. Perhaps he can figure this all out and make Rosalie well again. Maybe stress is doing this to Rosalie. Maybe her panic disorder has gotten out of control. If she gets the help she needs, then maybe she and Franco will be back together sharing the love that they once knew. Maybe then she can also repair the damage this has done to her relationship with Maria. Yes, that’s very possible too. Rosalie was frightened of being alone and she was desperate to not make that happen; even if it meant overlooking the obvious when it comes to Franco and Maria.