By JD Mayrant
They’ve started up again. The voices. Whispering things I don’t want to hear. Making me feel things I don’t want to feel. Making me do things I don’t want to do.
“They ain’t nothin’ but sin.”
Charlie, my youngest begins to wail. Or maybe he keeps on wailing. He’s been colicky since the day he was born. Damn near impossible to shut that boy up.
“Just shake him a little. Just to make him stop.”
I know that’s wrong and I shut out that one voice. The loudest one. The one that sounds most like me.