The Voice of Addiction

Author's Note: I'd appreciate it if you can tell me whether the italics help to clarify things, or if they only mess things up.

The teacher stands at the front of the room lecturing on the classification of protists. His voice is the only sound besides the whizzing of cars on the nearby road and the twittering of birds in the expanse outside the classroom. Studiously, I stare at the diagram in my book, trying to look intelligent. Then the first whisper came.

You want it. You know you do. You know you want it.

Harshly I push it aside.

I don’t want it. I had enough the night before. I don’t need it. I’m fine. Now leave me alone. I’m trying to study here.

And the voice drifts away, for a while. Another three minutes pass before the voice comes back.

Come on. The teacher will never notice. Other people do it. Why can’t you? You know you want it. It’s not that hard. It’s on the doorsteps, just waiting for you to invite it in.

But I resist. I can’t give in. Not now. Later, perhaps. Tonight. Just not now. I wait now with wariness, knowing the voice would come back. And it does.

Now you don’t only want it, you need it. You know you do. You can feel it. You can’t even see what’s on your page anymore. Your eyes can see fine, but your mind… ah, your mind, it is thinking about it. It wants it. You’re not even paying attention to the teacher so why pretend? Give in. You might as well. He’ll never notice. He never does. You’ve watched others do it before. Come on. You know you want it.

I jerk myself upright and stare intently at the teacher.

No! I can’t do it! I don’t need it! I’ll survive without it! I’m studying! I’ll be fine! I don’t need it!

For a few seconds I am recharged against the voice. But once again it comes-- slow, silent, tempting.

You want it. You need it. He’ll never notice. You know you want it. Come on. Just a little bit, then. No one will notice. Just a small bit.

Well, maybe just a bit. It’s not like I’d be the first one to do it. Feeling a bit guilty, I glance up at the teacher, but he’s oblivious to the class, enraptured in algae and bacteria. The students on either side of me are slouched in their seats, doodling and writing notes. Just a little bit. No one will know. And quietly, smoothly, I slip into the world of dreams.