Free What Hides Within by Jason Parent

susceptible to greatness. And he felt ready to seize it.

CHAPTER 9
    Friday morning came, and Clive's nerves were shot. He awoke at 4:10 a.m., having slept on-and-off no more than three hours. The humming in his head had been equally on-and-off the last few evenings, although his daylight hours were relatively unmarred. He drank to make the noise and all his worries disappear. Although his intoxication did lessen his stress, it did nothing to alleviate that annoyingly melodic resonance.
    Clive's appointment with Dr. Allen was still five hours away. He reeked of vodka and jock sweat, desperately in need of some cleansing before his trip to the ear, nose and throat guy. The heat made the air stale and humid, every breath a challenge. He jumped into the shower and held his head under the cool, spurting water. The droplets massaged his scalp, gently soothing his still-inebriated mind almost to the point of sleep. Eventually, he pulled himself away, wiped himself dry and yanked up a pair of Underdog boxers, his lucky pair.
    Should I try again?
    The idea sent a chill up the back of Clive's neck. He had managed to rationalize his circumstances, persuading himself that there couldn't be anything living inside his head or he would have felt it walking around. Still, he wasn't entirely convinced. The thought of digging around in his ear with a Q-Tip had lost its appeal after what had happened the last time.
    Cleanliness is next to godliness , he reconsidered. Soon, a stranger would be poking and prodding inside his ears. Clive wanted them to pass ordinary inspection. His vanity outweighed his logic, and he reached for a cotton swab. Knowing that perhaps his choice hadn't been the brightest, he carefully scraped the outermost portion of his ear canal.
    He winced in anticipation, yet he felt no pain. But the humming in his head grew louder still. Come on , he thought. Give me a freaking break. I barely even put it in there.
    The sound continued to increase in volume. Segments began to sound unique, distinguishable, almost recognizable. Are they syllables?
    Clive concentrated on the clatter, straining to make out each intonation. Instead of dispelling the noise like he'd previously desired, Clive's focus enabled him to increase its clarity. With just a bit more concentration--
    Mmmm Mm-mmm mou moron.
    Clive turned around, startled. It sounded as though someone were trying to speak with a hand over her mouth. It's not behind me. Around me? No. Inside me?
    The mumbling continued. Was it forming a pattern? A speech pattern? Clive began to make out words.
    "What?" he asked the mumbler, clueless as to what would or could answer him.
    I said, will you quit doing that already, you deaf son of a bitch? a barely audible voice began, first as a whisper but amplifying quickly. It's not going to work.
    "What's not going to work?" Clive asked, confused but surprisingly not yet hyperventilating. He stared at his reflection as though the man in the mirror were not him but some evil doppelganger. He awaited its move.
    Ah, the mongoloid can hear, after all. The Q-Tip, jackass. Haven't we been through this nonsense?
    Clive removed the cotton swab from his ear. He eyed it suspiciously, rotating it between his fingertips for inspection. He conjured images of a hidden microphone buried in it, perhaps a miniature person, an alien, something, anything. Clive's thoughts ranged from the wildly insane to the downright perverse. He didn't know what to expect, so his mind tried to prepare him for the unexpected.
    Instead, he found the ordinary. He examined the swab thoroughly, finding no cause for concern.
    What are you doing? The voice sounded insulted. Do you take me for a Q-Tip?
    "Who are you?" Clive's uneasiness escalated. " What are you?" he hesitantly asked, his voice hushed as if the question itself were evil, not meant to be spoken.
    He scrutinized every groove in the ceiling and stood on his toes for a glimpse into the ceiling fan. He peered up the faucets