The Voices in the Quiet

Marissa sat on her bed, the room feeling both too small and too vast. The clock on the wall ticked rhythmically, but to her, it sounded like a distant drumbeat, echoing inside her head. She glanced at the open window, watching the way the trees outside swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves dancing like whispers in the wind. It was peaceful. Or it should have been.

But the voices… the voices were back.

They had been quiet for a while. After months of medication adjustments, therapy, and support from her family, she had felt like she was finally getting a handle on things. The voices, the ones that had once screamed at her in the middle of the night, the ones that whispered sinister thoughts during the day, had been muffled to mere shadows. She had found a routine that helped—reading books, journaling, and spending time with her sister, Emma. But today was different. Today, the voices were sharp, clear, and demanding.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block them out. “Not today,” she muttered under her breath. “Not today.”

But they were persistent. The words came in waves, crashing against her like a storm. "You can’t escape us. We’re always here. You’ll never be normal."

Marissa flinched, her stomach twisting. She hated how real it felt. The way the voices seemed to invade her thoughts, taking over, making her question what was real and what was not. She’d been doing so well—hadn’t she?

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling her attention away from the overwhelming noise in her head. She picked it up, seeing a text from Emma.

“Hey, how are you doing today? I’m coming over later to check in on you. Let me know if you need anything ❤️.”

Marissa stared at the screen, feeling a wave of warmth wash over her. Emma had always been there for her, ever since the diagnosis. Her unwavering support had been one of the few things that had kept Marissa grounded through the darkest times. But even with Emma’s love and care, there were still moments when Marissa felt completely alone, trapped in her own mind.

She typed a quick response, “I’m okay. Just a little off today, but I’ll be fine. See you later.”

She set the phone down, feeling the pressure in her chest ease slightly. But the voices were still there, lingering at the edges of her thoughts. "You’re lying. You’re not okay. You’ll never be okay."

Marissa wrapped her arms around her knees, rocking gently back and forth. This wasn’t how she wanted her life to be. She didn’t want to be defined by schizophrenia, by these voices that threatened to tear her apart. She wanted to live a normal life, free of the constant chatter in her head. She wanted to walk through the world without fear, without constantly wondering if people could hear the same things she could hear.

But, she thought bitterly, maybe that was too much to ask for.

The voices grew louder again. "You think you can beat us? You think you’re strong enough to silence us? You’re nothing."

Marissa gasped, clutching her head in her hands. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She couldn’t. Not when she was trying so hard. She’d been fighting for so long—fighting to stay balanced, to keep her mind from spiraling out of control.

Her phone buzzed again, and this time, it was a call from her therapist, Dr. Lewis.

Taking a shaky breath, Marissa swiped the screen to answer. “Hello?”

“Hi, Marissa. I just wanted to check in. How are you feeling today?” Dr. Lewis’s voice was calm, warm, but there was an underlying concern that made Marissa’s heart race.

“I—I don’t know,” she said, her voice trembling. “The voices… they’re so loud today. I can’t focus, I can’t think straight. It’s like they’re taking over again.”

Dr. Lewis paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, it was gentle but firm. “I’m sorry to hear that. But remember, you’ve been doing so much work to manage this. You’ve come a long way, Marissa. Let’s take it one step at a time. Can you describe what the voices are saying?”

Marissa felt a lump form in her throat. She hesitated before responding. “They’re telling me… I’m worthless. That I’ll never be better. That I’m not normal.”

“That’s the illness speaking, not the truth,” Dr. Lewis said. “Schizophrenia can make the voices feel very real, but they don’t define who you are. You are more than what these voices tell you. You’ve worked so hard, and you have the strength to keep moving forward.”

Marissa closed her eyes, her fingers trembling on the edge of the phone. It felt so easy to believe the voices. They seemed so sure of themselves, so persistent. But deep down, she knew Dr. Lewis was right. The voices were not the truth. They were a distortion, a part of the illness she had to learn to manage.

“Okay,” she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ll try. I’ll try to ignore them.”

“Good,” Dr. Lewis replied. “Take it slow. Remember to breathe. And when it gets too hard, don’t hesitate to reach out for support. You’ve got people who care about you, and you’re not alone in this.”

The conversation ended, and Marissa set the phone down, feeling the weight of the moment settle over her. She wasn’t alone. She had a support system—her family, her therapist, and friends who truly cared. But she also knew that the work was hers to do. She couldn’t control the voices, but she could control how she responded to them.

As she sat there, her phone buzzed once more. It was Emma, telling her that she was on her way over. Marissa smiled softly. Despite the storm inside her mind, she knew she could face it. She had support. She had the tools. And for the first time in a long while, she felt a spark of hope.

She wasn’t defined by the voices. She wasn’t defined by the illness. She was more than that. And with each step forward, she would keep proving it.