I wake up and slip my feet perfectly into my slippers. Then, I make it to the kitchen. I cut my crust and pack the bologna and cheese sandwich into a brown paper bag, folded in half, perfectly creased down the middle; after which I turn my lamps on and off- three times- then I unplug them. I do the same with my radio, my television, my computer, my phone, my toaster, my microwave, etc. The only thing that remains plugged in is my refrigerator. The thought of having it on while I’m out of the house makes me anxious, but it’s the one thing I can let go of. That’s what Dr. Shaw asked of me, to let go of one thing at a time, and he and I agreed that I should start with the fridge. I don’t want anything to go bad, anyway. I am on autopilot, and it feels more like I’m watching a movie of my actions rather than physically performing them myself. It’s routine, and no thought is required anymore. Sometimes I wonder if my mind is my own. I’m convinced something evil has taken over and made me this way. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. I wish I could turn it off. I like that control. Ironically the outlet that was previously how I gained control has now taken control of me- my life. I’m driving the city bus, and I hardly remember how I ended up here, except I know exactly how I ended up here: routine. I could drive this route blindfolded if it weren’t for the traffic lights every half mile. You would think driving around in a city would be exciting, but this might be the world’s most lifeless city. Everyone is quiet, just awaiting an arrival to a destination. Newspapers and laptops replace the faces that hide behind them. Maybe they’re on autopilot, too. Maybe I’m not alone in my loneliness. The outside world doesn’t feel like reality. It feels like an illusion, like the people around me are props. I feel like I’m the only one, and yet I often question my own existence. It’s as if God and the devil are playing a game of chess, moving us around; we are the pieces. I wonder who’s winning.
As I take a right onto Gage Avenue, a cargo truck collides into the bus.  The next thing I know, I’m seeing red and then I’m in a hospital bed, seeing white. The nurses ask how I feel as I awaken with tired, puffy eyes.
He looks terrible I hear, but neither of the two nurses are speaking. I hope he’s okay. “Sir, can you hear me? I asked how you are feeling.” Lips now move along with these words. “How’s your hearing?” she attempts sign language, but it’s obvious it hasn’t been taught to her. She sighs heavily. No way will he understand all these nonsense hand gestures.
“I’m sorry; I can hear you. There’s no need for the gesturing. I’m feeling fine. I’m just a bit shaken up. Thanks.” One of them smiles and hands me a clear plastic cup with water in it. I’m fairly sure what I just heard was just a delusion. I figure perhaps I am just dehydrated, so I gulp the water down clean within ten seconds and hand her back the cup, hoping she’ll refill it for me. She leaves with the cup, and I’m left alone with the other nurse, who seems very shy. He’s fairly handsome, if you disregard the injuries. Am I supposed to stay in here and watch him until she comes back or something? This is awkward. I hear the voices again. Her mouth might as well be stitched closed because not a peep comes from her. She stands in the corner of the room, noticeably anxious. Oh no, he’s staring at me. Should I look away? I chuckle because it’s pretty cute. She smiles nervously and waves at me. I’m now almost certain I’m not just hearing voices, but people’s thoughts. I attribute this miracle to the accident and I believe it to be fate, that something has given me a chance to lead an exciting life. The other nurse reenters the room with the freshly filled cup.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Allen, you’re going to have to stay in this stuffy hospital for a little while.” She hands me the water.“Sorry about what happened. It’s a shame you had to lose your job because of this one incident.” Though the accident really was your fault.
I’m too excited about having super powers to acknowledge that I lost my job. I hated that job anyway.. I don’t even care that I caused the accident, because it’s what gave me these awesome powers in the first place. My life is going to change for the better. “You should try to get some rest.” It’s best if he sleeps through the pain.
“I’m really not in that much pain,” I respond. “Why do I have to stay?”
“That’s because you’re on painkillers. You look like you just got back from Hell.” I simply nod slightly, and both of the nurses leave the room. I can’t wait to practice my newly found super powers.
***
I can hear them everywhere. At first, it was just anyone within ten feet or so. Now I can hear the entire hospital. Everyone, simultaneously. I can’t control myself anymore, not when I feel like I have everyone else to control, too. The feeling is worse than a migraine. I can’t even describe it. It’s like there’s a demon inside my skull with a million voices, whispering and screaming at the same time. I can’t decipher what thoughts are mine anymore without a pen and paper. I hear the most gruesome things, the most depressing things, the most unbearable things. I have to get away.
I’m running now, on autopilot again. I don’t know how I got outside the hospital. I don’t know how I was able to escape, but I’m running and running until my mind becomes quieter and quieter. I make it far away before it’s complete silence, and I find a cabin in the woods. The first thing I want to do is take a bath, so I get in the porcelain tub and I wash myself, cleansing the same area for hours and hours. “One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.”