To the casual observer, the only thing that seemed to be moving were the bare trees in that bitter November wind. They couldn’t know that the turbulent thoughts in her head whirled faster than the wind that was whipping her short hair against her face and into her eyes. But there she stood, impervious to the natural chaos around her, simply staring in that unseeing manner at the old house, focused on the war inside her. She stood outside the building eyeing the stairs with apprehension, visibly afraid to go in. It was an old house, large, brick with wooden shutters around each of the windows. Typical of other old houses in that area of Massachusetts, ivy had attempted to take over the structure, only to be thwarted time and again by the careful pruning of the grounds keeper. The stairs leading up to the house were likewise old, and well kept, all seven of them. Seven, she knew, because she had counted them, over and over again each time she came here. But this would be the last time she counted them. She would count them as she climbed each one.
She knew now, just as she had always known, that if she walked into that house she could never go back. A life changing event? She nearly didn’t suppress the insane chuckle within her. This is not a laughing matter, she scolded herself.
But why not? came another voice. I mean, you’re actually considering doing this. That, more than anything, proves you’re insane.
But I don’t want to be insane! She argued. I want to be normal, just like everyone else!
She put her foot on the first step.
Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but normal people aren’t sane people. That voice filled her, with its course tones and biting sarcasm. Filled her, then ripped her to shreds. She hated that voice.
She’s right, you know. After all, what makes you think you aren’t normal? There it was, the voice she hated, feared, the most. With its soothing, gentle tones, she knew she was doomed.
Then why not give in? Why do you have to be so hard on yourself?
“NO!” The fierce denial cracked against the silence, startling her. “No.” she repeated, quieter, hoping she had not gained an audience inside the house.
Just as she shifted her weight, getting ready to raise her other foot, the first voice came back. If you do this, they will change you.
Yeah, well, that’s kind of the point.
Her right foot rose as her left took her weight.
But they won’t change only part of you. By the time they are done, you won’t be Laura anymore.
Her foot paused in mid air.
What do you mean?
You think that you will go in there, they will wave their magic wand, then you get to leave, and you will finally be your oh-so-important normal. Well hun, I got some bad news for ya. You go in there, they won’t stop at silencing us. They will silence you. They won’t let you leave until you fit into their own mold of normalcy. By the time they finally let you out, which, by the way, might not be for years, you and anyone who knows you won’t recognize the normal you.
Shocked, her foot fell back onto the first step. She was beyond noticing the sharp pain that ran up her leg at the jolt. It’s not true, she thought. You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to go.
We are telling you this because we love you. We want to protect you, take care of you. If you go in there, you will be hurt. Laura, don’t you see, we love you. Your habits, quirks you call them, are just as lovely as your best qualities. They are what make you, YOU.
Is it true? She thought. Maybe they will decide I have more problems, problems I don’t know about? But what if they change things I like about myself? Or what if they think it’s weird that I eat peanut butter with a spoon? Or maybe they won’t like it that I sing when I get bored? Is that bad? What if, oh God, what if they change everything but the voices?
There she stood, two feet firmly on the first step. Had anyone been watching, not really paying, they may have remarked at how strange that girl looked, standing on one step, not looking around, not really doing anything. Even her face, sometimes marking brief expressions, did not seem to be doing anything. It was the eyes, those two iris colored eyes, which seemed to be engaged in some alternate world dance. Had anyone been around to notice, they would have sworn for years that it was as if her eyes were constantly changing in some twisted pattern or rhythm.
You want to know a secret about normal people, dear? Normal people are just like you. They ‘hear voices’ just like you. But these voices, us, we are not some sign of insanity. We are the reason you can make the right choices. If everyone only had one ‘voice’, then all their decisions would be made after only examining one point of view. But when people have more than one ‘voice’, they can examine multiple sides of the same problem, so you can make the right choice.
If other people have these other voices, too, then why doesn’t anyone ever talk about them?
Because people in this society consider it ‘crazy’. Even you were ready to consider yourself insane. But you don’t really believe that, do you?
Silence. For once in her life, Laura could not hear them. Even the wind seemed to wait, breathless, as the silence stretched for an answer. They were all waiting for her reply. Was she really crazy? How did she know it wasn’t just stress, or something else? And having more than one side of an argument would help her make the right choice.
Both feet stepped back off the stairs.
“No.”