He lived on the edge of town with his ghosts and his dog. Nobody dared to visit him, or even come close to his house, so he lived without any human interaction. Despite this, the man, Michael, was not lonely in the slightest bit. He had all of his voices in his head to keep him company. They kept him company all day, and comforted him when those mind splitting headaches happened every couple hours. To an outsider, seeing Michael walking around all day talking to nothing and screaming from an invisible pain, he would seem absolutely insane. This accusation is severe, however not entirely incorrect.
Michael had always been different his entire life, hearing voices and seeing people that were not really there. This never caused him any trouble since he was always an outsider, and after his mother died, he was left a great deal of money, so he never had to go and work for a living. He preferred his ghosts and the voices in his head to other people, anyway. The only companion he had was his dog, Rufus. Michael had found him on the side of the road one day after leaving his house one of the few times a month to get groceries. It appeared that Rufus had been thrown out of a moving car and left for dead. Michael looked into his sad eyes and automatically felt a connection with him. He took him home and nursed him back to health and the two became inseparable. Rufus was always there for Michael during his headaches and when he was not feeling his best. When the voices were really bad Rufus would just lay in Michael’s lap and just looking at him made Michael feel better.
Besides Rufus, Michael’s voices kept him company. They would have long interesting conversations about anything and everything.  Despite taking a liking to the voices, they were not always so kind.
“What’s wrong with you Michael? You’re a loser! You have no friends, no girlfriend, nothing!” one of the voices screeched at him.
“Please stop! I don’t know why you’re being so nasty to me!” he yelled back in pain
“I’m doing this because it’s time you faced the truth and got your life together! I’m trying to help you so you don’t die alone and worthless!” the voice said, almost taunting him.
All of a sudden, one of his headaches started. Even though he had had them for as long as he could remember, he could never get used to the pain they brought. It felt like thousands of hammers were being smashed onto his head all at once. On good days, they would only last a minute or two, but on bad days they could last up to thirty minutes. While they were happening, Michael could not function. He would go into the fetal position, wailing, waiting for the pain to stop. He had always wanted to get help for them, but since he had been alone most of his life, the thought of having to talk to another person frightened him immensely.
Usually, whatever mood Michael was in affected how the voices treated him. If he woke up in a good mood, the voices were pleasant and would have nice conversations with him, even compliment him
“You look so good today Michael! You look like you could go out and conquer the world!” the voices would say.
But when Michael woke up in a bad mood, or something made him feel bad about himself, the voices almost seemed to know, and would taunt him.
“ You are so ugly and stupid! You will never amount to anything!” they would taunt him, laughing.
Usually, Michael could shrug them off and would not pay any attention to them, but sometimes, on the really bad days, the voices would really get to him. When this happened, he would curl up next to his dog and cry. He would cry so hard and so long that it almost felt as if he would never stop. These types of days were very rare, but when they happened, it could take Michael days, even weeks to recover from them emotionally.
One really, really bad day, the voices would not stop harassing Michael. They called him dumb, worthless, and ugly. Then, something different happened, something that had never happened before. The voices started to tell Michael to do bad things, very bad things. They wanted him to kill his beloved dog, Rufus. Michael was very confused and automatically disagreed with them.
“Why would I do that? I love Rufus!” he asked the voices in confusion.
“You have to, it’s the only way,” the voices said in a mysterious tone.
“The only way to what?” he asked in a distraught manor.
He got no answer. He thought about this for what seemed like days before he finally lost the internal battle, and went out to find the dog. He walked up to Rufus, and was greeted with love and kisses from the dog. A tear rolled down Michael’s cheek, knowing what he was about to do. All of a sudden Michael woke up in the field outside his property with a dead dog and a gun at his feet. There was blood splattered all over his shirt and his hands. He instantly fell to his knees, realizing what had happened. Guilt ran through him like a river.
“Don’t act like you didn’t like it Michael,” one of the voices said out of nowhere.
“I didn’t! I don’t even remember what happened! I never wanted this!” he screamed out of grief.
“Oh don’t act like you’re some saint Michael, we both know a little part of you liked it and would do it again in a heartbeat,” the voice said with a smug tone
Michael didn’t answer, he was already on his way back into the house, grabbing the keys to the car he never drove. He didn’t even bother putting on his seat belt or shoes, he just knew he needed to leave that house immediately.  He found himself at the police station, not sure if he should go through with what he was about to do. He ignored the voices telling him not to, and walked right into the police station, telling them every detail about what happened. They then immediately admitted him in the nearest psychiatric hospital.
The mental hospital is Michael's new home. He likes it there because there is a special pill that he takes that makes the voices in his head be quiet. The headaches haven’t stopped, and, sometimes, he can still hear a faint “Michael” when nobody is around.