Weak Mind (Chapter 3)

I'm here.
Iver listen we are all here.
Don't listen to Violet...
No don't listen to Chester....
We all want to protect you
Just listen.
Listen to all of us.
I am a voice.
You are crazy.
You are crazy.
The crazy people are coming to get you.
Don't hide.
Be scared.
You are crazy.

"AGHHH!" Iver screamed clutching his head and slamming it against the motel's wall. Ever since he had gotten off the truck, the Voices were attacking his sanity. He could feel the building pressure in his head as the Voices tortured him and fed off his weak mind. He knew somewhere deep within that they were all evil. Even his beloved friends, Chester and Pepper were not to be trusted.

But they are the only people that ever bothered to help me.
They don't even count though, they aren't real.
Iver thought to himself quietly as the Voices assaulted his brain. At times like these, Iver was able to think and reason like a normal person. His judgment was clear, although these moments were very rare. As his condition progressed, his normal states decreased, until one day he would be fully engulfed by the Voices.

If only they'd go away. I need to act. I don't have a lot of time left, every sane moment I can get I need to plan to turn myself in. To save myself.
He snatched a telephone nearby and dialed 911 hastily.
"Hello you've dialed 911 for emergencies and immediate service press 1 for others press 2."
Before Iver could save himself a crazy fit overcame him and he ripped the cord from the wall.

"That was lucky. I could have told the Crazies my location." Iver laughed at the discombobulated phone sprawled across the floor. He stomped it time after time until the machine was crushed and all that was left whole was the earpiece. He looked from the blank TV to the closed door.

"I think I'll just call Violet. Maybe we can go on that date." Iver smiled while dressing in some clothes he picked up on the way to the motel. They were inconspicuous and perfect for a first date with a pretty Voice.

Oh, Miss Violet are you ready for our date?
Just then Violet appeared in front of Iver dressed in a floral sun dress. Her hair was a beautiful shiny chestnut color and her eyes shone a brilliant blue. She wore a shining smile on her face that quickly twisted into a painful grimace. Before Iver could talk, she made an awful noise and fell to the ground.

Don't- trust- Cheste-
Large knives stuck out of Violet's back making scarlet liquid flow and stain her pretty dress. Her eyes were vacant staring up at Iver; he could feel her voice being erased from the mass that incessantly talked in his mind.

"Oh my God! Someone help! Help! Help!" Iver screamed clutching Violet in his arms. He hadn't even known her long, but she had been brutally murdered before his very eyes, and he felt a sense of attachment.

"Who did this?" Iver screamed over and over banging the walls with his fists. His anger clouded his vision and made the Voices stir in his mind.
She was evil; you didn't need her.

Get over it! There are plenty of other pretty Voices out there.
The crazies are here to get you.
He could hear people banging on his door now, trying to break in.
"Oh no! I alerted the Crazies!" he looked around trying to figure out what to do. He scrambled to think and improvise in the short time he knew he had.
The neighbors and police had finally broken into the room by blasting open the door. It was barricaded by the TV stand, tables, and chairs. To their surprise they found Iver in the corner of the room clutching his legs, rolled up into a ball, staring at an invisible Violet, whom they stepped right on to get to Iver.

"Don't step on her!" Iver yelled and scared the people who were slowly gaining on him. "Don't come near me! Don't touch me!" He cried, pinned to the wall in a defensive stance.
"Step on who?" the bald policeman asked while proceeding forward.

Tell them you have a gun.
"I have I gun!"
The men in the room all whipped out their own guns and all pointed them at Iver. He paled and cursed the deceiving Voice in his mind. He looked around to see many of the motel inhabitants watching from behind the yellow caution tape. Many police cars encompassed his room, and he knew there was no escape.

"Just kidding. I don't have a gun. Just don't touch me! I have a rare disease! If you touch me you'll all contract the... Bubonic plague. I'd be surprised if you didn't catch it already. It's airborne ...."

The bald man spoke an order quickly into his walkie-talkie. He motioned for his team to advance on Iver, and before Iver could jump away from the several reaching hands, one had stabbed him with a needle on his forearm and he was out like a light with only his Voices to comfort him.

Maybe Violet was right. Chester whispered into Iver's sedated and weak, weak mind.