Those times, the darkness always came at night. The voices were gentle coercing whispers, telling me to do this and that until I was lost in myself. The voices snuck around my head making me tear at my hair and fling things across the room with such strength that the nurses would scream. Those times even the sleeping pills didn’t seem to work. I lashed out at everyone. Everyone except her, my urge to destroy was restrained, only by her. The one I shared a womb with; my twin sister. She healed me without nauseous pills. She would sit with me, on my bed, twine her fingers in mine and we would whisper-sing, staring at our reflections in each other’s eyes. Our songs- hers and mine would keep the other voices in my head at bay. Eventually, I would fall asleep in her arms and find myself the next day.