Chapter Three

The voice inside his head was becoming more and more loud – clearer as the days pass by.

It started with an unusual headache, followed by a wave of nausea. It lingered inside his mind like a living host, pushing into the depths of his thinking and of his emotion.

It was like being tortured, but worse.

No, it was not painful like that – it was like having something moving inside your brain, trying to take control. Whatever it was had been silent, slowly penetrating his mind’s control over his body until he would black out in drowsiness and of fear.

He was aware of it, at first. But on the second week, it spoke.

Find him, it said. Find him and bring him to me.

The voice sounded ancient: old and voluminously powerful. It ringed into his brain and into his whole system until he found himself unconsciously chanting the words in his sleep.

Find him and bring him to me.

He can’t let this slip out – won’t let them know. He would thrash at his room, scream at himself and tear out his hair and let his spit fly out, and he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe and he wanted to breathe but the thing inside him, that voice inside him, told him when he should and when he should not.

Suffocating, dreadful, horrible.

Find him and bring him to me.

He found himself always nodding, blood writhing in an inhumane hunger for viciousn