The Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Silence

"Can I ask you something?" I question the air. Silence is my only answer. I let out a little sigh, turning over. I peer over my plush, teal comforter and try to make out something—anything—in the darkness. 

"What's it like?" I whisper to the jilting shadows. My fan vibrates, squeaking as it turns on its degraded plastic base. A soft hum comes from outside as cars pass by in the distance. 

"How about this?" I flop over so my eyes are back to staring at the ceiling. "I'll tell you something." More silence drones on around me. "I don't really like talking to people about these things. I mean, don't get me wrong. I'd love to have a friend, but that's not how my life turned out. It's empty.” 

“It's a lot emptier than I would have ever expected. People just keep leaving for so many reasons. Yeah, I've pushed some bad apples away. I'm proud of those moments, but it still left me with no one. Besides you," I breathe out, hoping for an answer. My fan continues to groan and rattle, assuring me that reality is going, despite my desperate pleas for it to pause. Just for a moment. I just wanted a moment to breathe. 

I grab my throat, kneading the delicate skin. "I'm so tired of being alone. Do you know what it's like? Having everyone look at you and think you're not worth having in their life?" A small giggle escapes me before I can ease my fear back down. It bubbles and writhes on my tongue until sobs wrack my exhausted limbs. 

"I can't stop the impending nothingness that I'm barreling toward. What do I do? Tell me. Please," my cries came out choked and garbled. My sanity had finally split in two. I cried harder, realizing no one would ever know this was the moment I broke. No one would ever see this. No one would listen or comfort me. I was alone. 

Something cool touches my knee as I lay there curling into a ball. I wipe my eyes and look up. Shadows play around the room, stars lighting the space from my callous eye-rubbing. I can't make anything out in the whirling darkness. I listen, only hearing the sounds of my fan whining and shaking. 

I lift a trembling finger into the air. "That's right, fan. I'm more like you than anything. I'm probably barely human at this point. Just a broken spirit. A piece of junk." 

I soon fall asleep to the squeaks and wheezing of my sole companion. 

Claws dig into my skin as I try to pull away, but they keep tugging. I awake with a scream that strangled itself out of my aching throat. I look around and see the stars just outside of my window. It’s still night. I rolled over to check my phone when a rhythmic buzz grabbed my attention. 

“What was that book about?” The mechanical noise echoed across the room. I rose to relax on my elbows. I gazed around but no one was there. The only sounds were the low moans of my fan and my own heavy breathing. 

“What was that book about?” the voice said again. It came from just ahead.

“Who are you?” I asked. Confusion flooded my mind, but fear was nowhere to be found. The fan tilted to the side as if it was watching me. 

“What book?” I found myself asking next. 

“You cried over a book. What was the book about?” Ah. That one.

“It was a romance,” I explained to my mysterious interrogator. “I actually don’t read them often. I don’t even remember how I came across the book. Anyway, yeah. That book was about a rockstar, well singer, I guess. Fell in love with a teacher. It was a delicious story. There was push and pull, but it was so well developed. They pulled me in.” 

My thoughts were flooded with scenes from the book that began to play in my head. They were so perfect for each other and actually talked their problems out. I finished it in one night.  I laughed. I cried. I gasped and gripped the sheets when they finally kissed. It was a book I’ll never forget. Although, what’s more surreal should be having an impromptu book club meeting with my talking fan. Or the androids could be finally taking over and one snuck into my room… To ask about a book. Yeah, that sounded pretty dang accurate. 

“You read a book before that. What was the book about?” The whirring wheezed out. 

I thought for a second before answering. “That one was another romance. I don’t read them often. This time it was a warlock story. The burly guy was so sweet. This one held onto the miscommunication trope pretty strongly, but it was done well. We got answers, sorta before I wanted to pull my hair out. The gruff guy kept me turning the pages.” I mused as I felt myself relaxing against my pillow. I was having a conversation. 

“You read every night,” the voice groaned. I couldn’t tell if it was a question or not. My brain suddenly felt like it was swelling against the worry sitting in my gut. It lurched and twisted until I was hunched over, gripping my sides.

“What are you?!” I yelled into the shadows. Silence spread across the space like a heatwave. Nerves along my skin stirred, alerting me of a temperature rise. The room around me blurred and I realized I was sobbing again. I let the tears fall and rocked my body to the rhythm of my fears. 

The room seemed to settle after a while. The air lost its unwelcome pressure and my body had soothed itself. I uncurled my legs and unwrapped my arms as I sat up. I looked around the room, but no one spoke to me. No one said a thing. My plastic fan squeaked and groaned with memorable intervals. I settled into my blankets, listening to the noises of the city just outside my window. 

I grabbed a book I had impulsively bought one evening. I let the edge sit against my hip as I propped it open to the first page.

“I’ll read to you,” I whispered. I glanced over at my rickety fan. “You’ll like it. It’s a romance.”