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Summary
The near-empty pill bottle is a constant weight in the pocket of Nathaniel's joggers. He has stretched out the doses as far as he can, his head thumping and his vision blurring with half-formed visions of worlds that aren’t his. Enough to hold back the voices, but still there’s a hum in the silence, like he’s hearing a conversation through thin walls. It isn’t hearing the voices that scares him most, however; it’s the fear that if Nathaniel can hear the others, then they can hear him.
Nathaniel can’t run from the voices in his head any longer. Stay in the shadows or stand with the cluster: it’s hardly a choice at all.