"Something's wrong with me." Realization strikes me like a thunderbolt, forcing me down to the hard bathroom floor. The words forcefully escape my lips and drip down my face like sweat.

Frantically, I reach out to gather them, to put them back where they belong, keep them unspoken.

No, there's not.

There's not.

I lay on the cold bathroom tiles and stare up at the ceiling. "What's wrong with me?" I whimper.

Don't say it.

Nothing.

You're delusional.

They taunt, their whispers growing.

You're imagining this.

"Stop!" I shout.

Nothing's real! They cry out, the echoes of their words bouncing off the walls of my mind.

Nothing.

"You're lying." My voice is barely audible, yet filled with accusation. "You're lying. You're lying? Why are you lying?"

What? They mock. What? They repeat.

"Stop!" I plead.

Nothing.

"What are you saying?" I ask. "What are you keeping from me?" My voice shakes with desperation.

Their response remains the same. “Nothing.”

The room falls into silence, broken only by the sound of my own breathing. I turn the light off, plunging the bathroom into darkness, and lay in the bathtub in fetal position, my heart pounding in my chest.

They're following you! They suddenly shout, their collective voice a chilling chorus.

I rise to my feet, my eyes darting around the room. "Who?" I exclaim. "Who's following me?!"

Nobody. They say. “You’re delusional.”