The Drone was constant, like menacing white noise that was turned up with the sole purpose of consuming my mind. And it did. It was a buzzing, like a swarm of confused bees that have just lost their queen. It was chaos that didn't even let me hear my own frail voice. It was something, something so massive and loud that I thought I could feel it. I wanted to get rid of it, to finally be at peace. I couldn't shut it out, I couldn't outrun it. Believe me, I tried. No, I had to jump.

I heard voices, insignificant and far beyond the Drone. They were worried, panicked. I think I heard my name. It didn't matter, it was a worthless sound anyway. Two syllables didn't mean anything in my haze. There was banging on the door, efforts deemed powerful by their standards, but they were nothing compared to the Drone. Even the hollow clatter of pills ricocheting off the walls of the plastic bottle was barely anything. It was the staccato bridge in my messed up symphony. It passed, and now only the distant voices remained in the final movement. 

They still tried, but I made my decision. They never understood it. How could they? How could they understand something that couldn't be seen, something that only I could hear? It was too late now. My mind was bathed in the noise, the static. The Drone.

It began to decrescendo, so slowly that I barely noticed it. It was only until the end did I realize I was finally free.

Silence.

~

From the IWMC Day 4 Challenge: write a story using only one sense.

This was loosely based off of my final project for a sound class, which the professor nominated for the Tony Hawkins Award.