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murmur. by milominderbinder
Chapter 1 : one.
 
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 29


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Your name is Rose Weasley.

My name is Rose Weasley.

You are 23 years old.

I am 23 years old.

You are not crazy.

I think I might be going crazy.

The first time it was just a murmur.  A mumble, an almost inaudible sound, a humming in the back of my head.  And sure, it did feel like it was coming from the inside of my head, but I have four roommates, and they have friends and girlfriends and boyfriends and they make noise, they talk.  So surely, then, it was just the faintest echo of their conversation from another room.  The murmur, the mumble.  That’s all it was.

That was October 1st.

I don’t remember the dates for the rest of it.  It changed so gradually. What was a murmur became a mutter, became words hushed but audible, became slowly as loud as my own thoughts, became louder still, became so loud that it drowned out any other sound around or within me.  It wasn’t, isn’t, it isn’t all the time. It’s just occasionally.  But it’s becoming more and more.

Your name is Rose Weasley.

It’s strange.  It’s not what I thought going crazy would be like.  The voice doesn’t tell me to do things, hurt anyone, hurt myself.  It just tells me things I already know.  Things about my life.  Things that hardly even seem significant, to me.

Your name is Rose Weasley.

When you were five you had a cat named Tubbins.  You lost your virginity at fifteen.  You got a T in your Charms OWL.  You once convinced your brother to eat a worm.  You own twenty five knitted cardigans.  You take your coffee black.  A month ago, a stranger gave you a beautiful necklace, and you haven’t taken it off since.

That’s when you started hearing me.


It reminds me of revising for exams, because it tells me the same things, over and over again, like it’s trying to learn them, trying to get them right.  It always gets them right.

To start with, the voice didn’t sound like mine.  It was rougher, lower, darker.  But it’s changed, without me even realising it.  Now I can hardly tell it from my own thoughts.

My name is Rose Weasley.

Now, it talks like it’s me too.

I don’t know if I’m crazy or not.  I haven’t left my room for a week.  When my friends try and talk to me, ask what's wrong, I don’t know what to say; it’s like I’m not really me, anymore, like I don’t know how I act, how I feel, how I speak, who I am.  The voice knows, and it tries to tell me, but I don’t know how to listen anymore.

Yesterday I took the necklace off, but I think it was too late.

My name is Rose Weasley.

Your name is Rose Weasley.

I am 23 years old.

You are 23 years old.

I am not crazy.

I am not crazy.

My name is Rose Weasley.




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