There were a malady of sounds glaring around Sarah Silverman. This was not the actress Sara Silverman but she was still as obscure to the public eye. From the high pitched squeals of terrified people to the emergency sirens blaring all around, Sara could only focus on one sound, the sound that resonated in her mind constantly all day, everyday.
They say breathing is a natural, automatic response. That even if you "forget" to breathe, you still do. As was this sound that had the same persistent qualities that your brain does to breathe. It had literally driven her mad over time.
It started small and infrequent. She would hear a faint hum or ding. Sara thought this odd as one would a homeless person sleeping in a dumpster, strange but you know these things are bound to happen and, until you experience it yourself, you never really worry about it.
These beeps and chirps slowly evolved to the point Sara could hear muffled voices, nearly inaudible and blurred. She couldn't understand what they were saying but they voices reflected both male and female, young and old, English and foreign. This change in intensity is what started to freak Sara out.
She had lost ties with her friends and family over the last few months after the sounds stated failing to subside even for sleep. Sara probably hadn't even seen another live person for some time. That was, until now.
Sara fell to her knees, hand clenched to her head. A numbness swept over her body as if she was being filled with molten lava. The kind of numbness you feel having muscle and nerve tissue melting from the sheer heat of an inferno. A scream overcame her and the world outside her mind. Was it her screaming or one of the voices lost in her mind? She was unable to make that distinction anymore.
