I was 9. I woke up one day in my bed and could hear the voices. Hundreds of them, whispering, shouting, pleading, making excuses. I didn’t know whose voices they were, and even if I put my head under my pillow, they wouldn’t go away.

I told Mom and she didn’t say anything, but I heard her voice saying that I was lying again and I was the worst child and why her? I don’t know why she was saying these mean things, but she didn’t say them, the voices did. She said I had to go to school but I wouldn’t. The voices were too many and too loud and too scary. She was mad and I could hear her voice yelling at me, calling me a waste of time and space.

She had to take the day off work and drive me to the doctor. Her voice said this was a waste of money, but also that she was happy to not have to work today. I asked her if she was happy to not have to work today and she gave me an angry look and told me no. The voices must lie.

We drove to the city, and the closer we got, the more voices there were. Soon there were thousands of them, and I could hardly hear my own thoughts. I didn’t want to complain to Mom because I knew she’d just tell me I was being bad.

We arrived and parked in an underground lot and I started breathing funny. I didn’t like the dark, I didn’t like being underground. I felt like the ceiling was coming down to get me and I’d be stuck and crushed. Then we took an elevator and it wasn’t better. I didn’t like the small, enclosed places I couldn’t see or get out of. I just closed my eyes and focused on the voices.

We had to wait a long time in the doctor’s office, and the voices talked to me the entire time. Mom’s voice was the loudest, but if I listened closely, I could hear individual people’s voices, though I didn’t know whose voice was who’s. The man at the desk was going through files and entering records into the computer, and I could hear a voice that was a man’s which was repeating things over and over which I thought might be his.

[Cameron, 33185, full coverage. Campbell, 42810, full coverage. Carpenter B, 33948, full coverage. Carpenter P, 11029, full coverage. Chambers, 20584, out of network. Clark without an e, 49301, full coverage. Clarke with an e, 19203, full coverage.]

I walked over and heard mom’s voice say she was probably going to get in trouble and was going to be mad at me. I saw the man pick up a file, read it, and as he did, heard the voice.

[Coates, 27109, full coverage. Why isn’t this kid’s mom taking care of her? Collins, 19183, full coverage.]

He put the latest file in a stack with the others and I saw the name on the tab said Collins, Benjamin. I wondered how the voice knew the name on the file.

[Why’s this kid staring at these files? Her mother is just sitting there ignoring us. Am I going to get in trouble for her looking at people’s PHR?]

“What’s PHR?” I asked.

He looked at me and frowned. “Where did you hear that, little missy?”

“The voices told me. What is it?”

[Well, at least I know why she’s here now. Poor little kid, in here at her age.]

“PHR is Personal Health Record,” he said. “That’s what I’ve got in these files here. Everybody who visits this office has a file here, and we keep them up-to-date with the system on the computer so other doctors can see anything we find so they can help you better.”

“I won’t ask to look at one because I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“You’re a funny kid,” he said. [What a freaky little kid,] his other voice said. [Why isn’t her mother keeping a leash on her? Can’t she see I’m busy here?]

“Uh, thanks mister. I can let you work,” I said and gave a polite bow. He seemed confused, but we didn’t have much longer before the doctor let us in.

“So, what seems to be the problem?” She asked with a congenial smile, looking back and forth between me and mom. I tried to find a voice which sounded like hers, and heard it saying something about the last patient she was talking to, and how hot his arms were. It was a strange thing for the voices to say, and I had to remember that I learned already that the voices lie.

“This little one is big trouble,” said my mom, plopping a hand on my head, messing up my hair. “She say she hearing voices, won’t go to school. I wonder, why no hearing voices last week, only on Monday she hearing voices. Want more weekend, I think. Isn’t that right, rotten child?”

“No mom. I really hear them.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions. Hearing voices is actually a very common issue, and in most cases is not linked to psychosis or schizophrenia like everyone assumes. I’ll talk to…” she glanced at her clipboard. “…to…little Saga here, and we’ll figure out how to make her all better, okay?”

She was smiling, but the voice inside her head was talking about the man’s firm butt and saying mean things about my mother. I just nodded.

“Good girl. Now, you are welcome to stay,” she said, addressing my mother “but I’m going to have to ask you to just observe. I’m going to need to hear your daughter’s own answers.” She separated us and put me on a tall bed covered in crunchy paper, while Mom sat in the corner, looking bored. Mom’s voice also sounded bored, and kept calling me a rotten child.

“So how long have you been hearing the voices? Are there lots of them or mostly just one?” She looked at something she stuck in my ears and then blinded my eyes with a flashlight while she talked.

“I woke up this morning and heard them. And there are so many voices. Hundreds of them. I can’t even hear myself think, most of the time. It’s like a really noisy room, all the time.”

“When you get angry or sad or confused, and if you haven’t done any of that yet, that’s okay, but if you do, do the voices also get angry or sad or confused with you?”

“Rotten child is always confused. Always lying to get in trouble,” Mom said. I shirked and blushed.

“Ma’am, I need to hear your daughter’s answers. Please don’t cut in,” she said, with a gentle smile. [Stupid mouthy bitch, I bet if your kid does have issues, it’s because of you.]

“The voices don’t change with my feelings. They change with other people’s feelings.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, there’s a voice that sounds like you, but in my head. And when you talked to Mom just now, the voice…it…it said a bad word.”

“The voices use bad words?” she asked with a frown. “Do they yell at you? Do they threaten you or tell you to do things?” She was scribbling away on her clipboard, and her other voice sounded as urgent and concerned as her writing.

“No, they ignore me usually. They talk about silly things mostly. Like before, your voice was talking about your last patient’s butt, and what it wanted to do with it.”

She opened and closed her mouth several times without saying anything.

“And his arms, too.”

“Rotten child, you embarrass us. Stop talking to–” The doctor shushed her by waving her away.

“Sweetie,” said the doctor, “do the voices…actually, let’s just focus on the voice that sounds like me. Does it say many, many things? Maybe it’s just making lucky guesses.”

“What’s con-confirm…ation bias?” I asked.

“Where did you hear that?” the doctor asked, her eyes now fully wide.

“Your voice said it might just be confirmation bias.”

“I think…” the doctor said “that I need to talk to your mommy in private for a moment. Please wait here.” She urgently pulled my mother from the room and closed the door carefully behind her.

Yet I could still hear their entire conversation through the voices.

[Your child is very, very troubled. I have to admit, I have been doing this for twelve years, and have never seen anything like this.]

[I tell you many times, she is rotten child.]

[No, it’s worse than that. I fear your girl is actually reading minds. This isn’t anything possible through traditional psychology…]

[So you actually do think of patient’s butts all day? You are rotten doctor too.]

[No! That’s beside the point. I think your child is an Exhuman, and we need to call the police as fast and quietly as possible right now. There’s no telling what will happen if she starts using her powers.]

[Rotten child. I knew it. Always trouble.] The two of them were walking to the man who was reading the PHR earlier.

Exhuman. That was a bad word, even worse than the other word the voice had said to me before. We’d learned about Exhumans in school, and how bad they could be. I didn’t want to be an Exhuman. I began to cry.

It was only a few minutes later when I heard voices of men who were in the elevator. There were 6 of them coming up, but they were with another 22 other men below. The voices were all very, very angry, which is what grabbed my attention and made me listen to them.

The ones in the elevator were coming to me. They were going to kill an Exhuman, but the Exhuman was me! I didn’t want them to. I didn’t want them to come to me with their guns and scary black armor and shoot me. I wanted to go to school with my friends.

[Subject confirmed in second office on left. Subject seems to be unaware. Ready team will confront and contain the subject, follow team will begin evacuation. Subject is possibly psionic, code xavier. Kill on sight.]

I don’t want to die! They were coming in the office now, and the voices of people in the lobby were panicking. They were moving fast in a single line and headed right for the back rooms, where I was. I tried to tell the voice that I didn’t want to die.

[Psionic interference confirmed. Just heard a child’s voice telling me she didn’t want to die. Repeat, code xavier confirmed. Ready team, move NOW!]

“I DON’T WANT TO DIE!” I screamed. The men outside were in the hallway, and winced when I yelled. “I DON’T WANT TO DIE!” They passed the first room. “I DON’T WANT TO DIE!” They were outside my room, the front two men went on either side of the door, one with the doorknob in his hand. “DON’T KILL ME!”

The door flew open. Men streamed in, six of them, in single file. Each was wearing a metal black suit of armor with helmets that covered their faces, walking a little hunched over their guns. All the guns were pointed at me.

None of them fired.

I heard a voice yelling from downstairs. Another one of the men in metal suits.

[Ready team, why are you not firing? Ready team, this is a code X, kill on sight. Fire! Fire damn it, fire!]

The thoughts of the men in front of me was all just like static. They were still there, but their voices were more in my head than theirs now. I told their voices not to kill me, and they listened.

“Go away,” I said, crying and hugging my knees to my chest. I wish I had Sir Bearington, my teddy bear with me. He always made me feel safer.

The men with guns stopped and stirred for a moment, and then lowered their weapons and walked out of the room, closing the door behind them. They stood in the hallway, confused, starting to talk to each other, but none of them said anything about coming in the room or killing me again. The people downstairs were screaming to come in the room and kill me, but they weren’t here.

Other people from downstairs were going through the building and nearby buildings and were telling everyone to get out. Evacuate, they said. People were scared everywhere. One-by-one, all the voices in my head turned from talking about whatever they were talking about and started screaming in panic. One word kept popping up more and more, every voice yelling it like an accusation.

“Exhuman.”

“Stop saying that. I’m not one of those. I’m not a bad person!” I said.

But I was, and I knew it. As I said those words, I could feel myself reaching out and telling the voices to stop. And they did. I silenced the voices, and the people’s panic multiplied as they were all being evacuated, but now they didn’t–couldn’t know why. I could hear screaming, not the voices, but actual people in the building around me screaming as panic took hold and the whole building became chaos.

I knew the buildings all around us were the same. People were running everywhere without anywhere to go, hurting each other, falling down and stepping on each other. I felt voices wail out in panic and then get cut off abruptly, the person who owned that voice not existing anymore. One man screamed as he jumped down a staircase to get out, and then others screamed when his body slammed down the railings next to them. He stopped existing too.

The voices were already overwhelming, and now that it was panic everywhere, screaming everywhere, it was so much worse. I held my ears closed and cried, but it wouldn’t block them out at all. I tried to find my mother’s voice in the crowd, but she was gone a long time ago, left with the doctor when they called the police on me.

All these people, all this dying and panic, it was all because they were right. Because I was an Exhuman, I was one of those bad things, and by doing the things I did, people were fighting and dying, and I could feel all of it.

I couldn’t take it, not another second of it. I felt like my head was going to rip itself apart. I screamed at the top of my lungs, scrabbling at my ears so much that I felt warm liquid under my fingernails. I wanted the voice to stop. More than anything. If they didn’t stop, I thought I’d die.

And then the worst possible thing happened.

The voices all stopped.

Like the guards who had come in the room, the voices went away, replaced with just a faint buzzing like static from a badly-tuned holo. But everyone, everywhere. The whole block, this building and all the other buildings nearby, everyone just stopped, just like I’d said.

And somehow it was a million times worse than the noise. I worried that I just killed them all, but I could still see them, or feel them, or sense them standing there, exactly where they were before I’d told them to stop. Frozen mid-step, standing in stairways, reaching for a door.

They were right. They were all right. I was a rotten child.

I was standing downstairs with all the men in black armor when I let them all go. I told their voices to go back to what they were doing and not panic, and they did. The men in black were confused, but I told them what happened and they believed me.

Then one of them pointed his gun at the back of my head and I heard an explosion and that’s all I remember.