Today is the last day of having a peaceful mind. My family worries itself to death about this day. The day my age finally hit number eighteen. Since the day I could understand a word or a few I was instructed about the voices that will eventually appear. I could not understand that then but time has passed I could accept it. Well, accept it is not a good word for it, rather tolerate it. Throughout the years I have learned to tolerate the voices because this is what will happen, there is no way around them. I will eventually witness myself what it feels like to have your head tormented not only my thoughts but also unidentified voices. I wonder what it feels like, soon enough I will know.

My family is calling me downstairs to my birthday party. There is nothing else than this that I would like to escape. My birthday party. It could be another day to celebrate since it is one day less to my wanted death. Having resigning thoughts is part of my everyday life.

"Vecca, we are waiting for you! Come on," I hear my family calling.

I walk downstairs to see all of my family gathered around the table with calm expressions. I would be surprised if dad would wear a smile on his face but it sadly did not happen. There is my boyfriend there too, I smile at him and only him.

"Won't you say anything?" my mother asked cautiously.

I roll my eyes. They cannot imagine how angry I am inside because of something I will acquire as my birthday present. The voices are not and never will be a thing to celebrate.

"Happy birthday to me," I said looking down at the table.

Everyone went silent. Seconds after, I heard my mother swallow. I expected her to do so, she cannot bear the silence. I wonder what is inside the head, maybe she has voices of her own and needs to have someone else do the talking. Jokes about the voices might be my only way to cope with all of this.

"We know, Vecca. This is your birthday celebration but nothing is exciting to celebrate. We know we celebrate your last day as a free person. Tough times will come and this party is meant to be a goodbye to your same self," my mother breaks the silence.

Once she is done with her heart-aching speech, I look in her eyes. She has no fear of what she is saying. I do not doubt that she considers me as an unlucky child, the one with mental illnesses and the one weak. All my life I want to prove myself otherwise, but she is blind to my attempts.

"Then I am glad there is that thing to celebrate, shall we then proceed?" I ask looking around at everybody.

My father, my boyfriend and my mother at the table. If it was not for my boyfriend I would not come to this celebration. I have enough of my family. I look at my dad quickly, I catch his glance for a matter of seconds but look away. Having this man as my father is the worst thing. I cannot consider us a happy family.

Eventually, the awaited dinner starts. Once I sit in my chair, I breathe out all that anxiety away. My mother stands up from the table and walks to the kitchen. I wonder what she prepared for us for this "occasion". She brings us a chicken breast, and I am not surprised. She is always preparing it for what she considers special events. This is not a special day of any kind but I keep my mouth silent.

All of us sit in our chairs and the talking begins. Muffled voices pass my ears as I do not listen to them speaking. I drift away to my thoughts and I love it there. The last peaceful trip to my mind, it will not last till tomorrow. I glance at the opposite wall and notice the picture of our family. 

There is my sister there as well, it was a long time ago, and she is not with us anymore. I wonder how she is feeling there in heaven. I want to know how it feels like to be there and I might not ever found out as I am not eligible for heaven myself.

My train of thoughts stops abruptly once I hear my name.

"Vecca, if you are finished you can excuse yourself to your room. We will not mind," my mother says in a rushed voice which gets my curious.

"Yes, sure. I will go now. The chicken was great, thank you," I say and stand up from my chair.

My mother never speaks in a way unless something is happening. I have no clue and do not really bother to find out. If it concerns my father I will just go to my room and do not care.

I just have noticed that I did not speak to my boyfriend at the table. I look around and see him sitting still at the table. I guess he made his choice.

Not taking further action, I simply walk up the stairs to my room. My room is something mine, I like it here. Multiple pictures decorating the wall, flowers on my nightstand. All of it gives me a needed calmness that I lack through the day.

I lay on my bed and look at the ceiling. It is not an ordinary celling because it is covered in pictures. Photos of me and my best friend Lana. I like to look up at them because it gives me a feeling of nostalgia. Nothing else in this room gives such an intense aura.

I lose a track of time. I hear someone knocking on my door. I muffle a groan into my pillow and say "Yes, come".

"Hi, I came by to check on you. You seemed like a ghost at the dinner," my boyfriend walks up to me and sits down beside me.

"I feel like a ghost because I will be a living as an insane person from now on. The voices are on their way, you know," I reply.

He looks at me with worry and I hate myself because of my passive attitude towards him. He deserves better than me, yet he chooses me. I do not know if I am lucky but I know he has flaws just the way I do.

"Do not get yourself too hanged up on this. Voices will come, yes, but it is your way of how you will manage them. You see what is presented in every day's television. They cannot be wrong. 

The society wants best for us and I want you to know that when your time comes," my boyfriend says.

"Matias, I know you are right, but I am not ready. I know what they are saying but I cannot bear to see myself with voices. I might not be able to survive them,"

"You perceive yourself as weak, I know that but I want you to know that you are the strongest person I know. You just have to believe in yourself and once you do it will be better," Matias assures me.

He hugs me, and we lay in each other arms for what seems like forever. I like being in his arms, the warmness, the closure I crave for. This feeling I want to experience every day.

Having monsters of my own is tough because it will not let me enjoy those moments to the fullest. My social phobia is something that just will not let me open up to many people. I choose my light in dark but what if he leaves me? I will be alone again with no one to trust. Even my friend left me, the nostalgic feeling is what she left behind.

I do not know how much time has passed but I see that Matias closed his eyes. I am glad he cannot see tears coming down my cheek. Fresh tears are casual for me. I cry myself in the mornings and the evenings. Each day I am haunted by what my father did to me.

When I was little, fear was the only thing I accompanied myself with every day. Abusing me mentally and physically was my father's best attraction. My sister and mother were always watching. They never intervened. Once I turned twelve, the abusing stopped. My mother quickly signed me to the psychologist as if she was picking out broken porcelain trying to fix it. There is nothing left to fix, I buried the pieces myself. Burying them down each day was my favourite activity. I remember that day like it was yesterday when it stopped. I felt numb as if something was missing. I felt relief, of course, but there was something more. I accustomed myself to the daily beatings I received and not having them felt as if I did something bad again. "You did badly, Vecca," I heard his sentence in the daytime and the nighttime, it even haunted me in my sleep.

I have felt numb since then, and the person who saved me was Matias. I wonder when I feel truly grateful for warmness he is giving me every day.