voices

He had taken just a couple of drags, when her voice cut in.
"Oh, my my! What do we have here?"
"Go away," he growled.
She sniggered.
"Go away," he repeated, a little more forcefully. "I don't have time for this."
"Yeah right! I don't have time for this" she mimicked. "Honey, time isn't the only thing that you haven't got. No spine, no guts, not even the pretence of a brain..."
"Stop it!" he shouted.
"Stop what?" she asked. "I'm just stating facts. Don't you have time for facts?"
:No?" she asked again as he stayed silent. "Pray, what do you have time for?"
He still did not speak.
"Time for thinking stupid thoughts, huh?" she asked with an edge to her voice.
"How did - how did you know?" he stammered, taken aback.
"Oh please. Don't try to be stupider than you are. I always know. how could I not?"
"Yes. Yes, of course," he mumbled.
Gathering up courage, he asked, "So... what do you think?"
"What do I think? I think you're stupid, that's what I think."
"Oh for god's sake, find a new word," he shouted. "I am tired of hearing how S-T-U-P-I-D I am."
"Don't scream at me. I'm not your whipping girl," was her response.
He flinched.
She laughed. A cruel tinkling laughter that made him shiver.
"Scared, aren't you?" she taunted. "Why do you even bother? You know you'll never be able to do it. You just can't."
"I can," he protested. But his voice shook. "I will."
"Whatever makes you happy, honey. I know you can't. But if you like pretending, it's no business of mine."
"Yes. Yes, it isn't your business. So butt out, okay?"
"Well, it's no business of mine as long as you pretend. But if you do it for real, then it does become my business. I'll have to go, won't I?"
"Yes," he cried out a little hysterically. "You'll be gone forever. I'll be glad."
"You snivelling little coward - what would you do without me? Who's going to listen to your incessant whining, then? But... Oh god - I'm becoming almost as stupid as you, now. You won't ever do it. So what the fuck am I going on about?"
"No!" he screamed. "I'll do it. I'll kill him."
"Oh please. Do you seriously expect me to believe that you can kill him? Even if you do, you'll never be able to live it down. Everybody's going to be talking about Oedipus being revisited. Jesus. What a joke! Can you even imagine the scandal?" She burst into laughter.
"I don't care about scandal."
"Oh really? Is that right? So why haven't you done anything yet?"
Silence again.
She went on, her voice dripping with honey, "So if you're not afraid of the scandal, is it because you perhaps like it? So that's it, is it? You like what he does, huh? You love it - you wait for it every night - "
"Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about. Bitch."
"I do know. I'm there every time, remember? I'm always there. I know exactly what you feel. I know."
"Stop it! Stop it! I can't take it any more," he moaned, as tears started trickiling down his face. "Why won't you make him stop?"
"How can I make him stop? I'm just a reaction, remember? And why would I want it to stop? I mean - if he's gone, I wouldn't be, either. I'm happy the way things are. I hate you - but you make me live. And so does he. I don't want things to change."
"Please... I can't take it any more," he cried, the cigarette falling from his fingers. He buried his face in the pillow. "I can't - I can't take it any more."
"You poor bastard. I almost feel sorry for you, you know. May be you should do it then." And there was pity in her voice.
He kept on sobbing, his words muffled by the pillow.
"What? What are you saying? I can't hear you." And the thorns were back in her words, prickling his skin.
"I can't. I can't!" he burst out, defeated.
"An addiction, isn't it?" she queried, her voice drenched in bitterness.
He cried.
"Shh," she whispered, suddenly wary. "I hear someone."
The door opened, and a head poked in around it.
"John, who are you talking to? I thought I heard voices."
"No one, Mom," he replied. "I was just talking to... myself."