Years ago, somewhere in the southwest, in a desolate restaurant, in an almost ghost town he felt his sanity slipping away. He could feel as it started slowly, but began increasing its speed. It was as if there would be nothing left of his mind, unable to speak or have recognizable thought. It seemed he was unable to stop it and at the threshold of no return, he heard the soundless voice.

It had been many years as he had forgotten of its existence. It had spoke to him as a small boy in the tree house. Without words it told him he would be fine. It was then his heart began to slow. His sweat started to cease and his breathing started to return to normal as calmness drifted through his body.

It was the beginning of listening again. And as the years would come it would lead him to places he never knew. And even more places inside his mind. Maybe he had had to reach a place, a threshold of despair for him to let the voice come again. Maybe he didn’t think he needed it any more. Maybe his ego kept it away.

But even though the soundless voice had never left.

There were to come many nights in empty motel rooms when he would sit within his thoughts. A mirror would catch his eye and he would try to stare into his eyes. But he would look away, as if he was looking into a lie.

The road would lead him to places that lived inside of him. It was only time that kept them away. A predestination from the day he was born waiting until he was made ready. Until he made a choice that seemed so simple to him, but yet to others and some they saw it different.

It wasn't until years later when fear raced through his heart and the thought first entered that he had seen things different from others.

He had sat in the rooms and heard the scattered noises. Had first saw a bundle wrapped. A child whose heart had beat too fast and they tried to slow it, but had given too much, which they did not know. And so the bundle laid upon a child’s bed for all in the room to see. No one talked about it, but it seemed they all saw.

A nurse would catch him staring at the bundle and asked, “as long as it’s not your child”. Before he could stop himself he would say “yes”. He had tried to correct the word, but she was gone.