The Voice inside My Head

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Book: The Voice inside My Head Read Online Free PDF
Author: S.J. Laidlaw
He even gave me a towel and plastic flip-flops. I know I need to get back to work investigating Pat’s disappearance, but I feel like I’m glued to this bed. I never thought it would be this hard.
    M E:
You should have warned me
.
    P AT:
About what?
    M E:
These people. All of them mourning you, like you’re actually dead. How many more are there? Am I going to keep tripping over them like landmines?
    P AT:
Is that what you’re really worried about? Or are you starting to wonder if they might be right about me?
    M E:
    I stand up, slide on the flip-flops, grab the towel and slam the door on my way out, not bothering to lock it. I don’t own anything worth stealing.
    There’s no hot water in the shower, but it feels good to let the cool water run down my body, washing away the grime of the last twenty-four hours. I raise my face into the stream and start as I notice a freaking huge tarantula just above the showerhead. Drops of water glisten on its hairy body. I wonder if this is why Dr. Jake gave me the flip-flops. I take one off and raise it threateningly, but the spider doesn’t budge. I sigh, turn off the shower, quickly dry off and wrap the towel around my waist. Opening the door onto the narrow paved walkway that leads to the rooms in one direction and to the sea in the other, I don’t have to look far before I come across a plastic pail. It takes longer to find something flat, and I finally go back to my room for a piece of paper. Ready for business, I return to find the spider has advanced down the wall like he was coming to find me.
    “You have to understand, buddy, it’s nothing personal. It’s just that you’re butt-ugly and I can’t leave you here for some girl to find. Most girls are irrational when it comes to spiders. I’m doing you a favor. Trust me.”
    I cover him with the pail and slide the paper underneath. I flip it fast, expecting him to drop to the bottom, but he clings to the paper so I feel his body, larger than my hand, clinging to the other side. I step out of the shower and gently jiggle him as I take a few steps down the path, walking away from the rooms. He continues hanging on to the paper, but seems calm as he waits for my next move.
    “You’ve done this before, haven’t you, Spidey?”
    “What you got there?” I jump and almost drop the pail as a girl about my own age steps out of the next washroom with a cleaning brush in her hand. Her black hair is woven tightly to her head, finishing in short braids that peter out to nothing, like they’ve given up. But the light in her dark eyes is compelling, as if there’s a whole long story unfolding behind them.
    “What you doing with my bucket?” she demands.
    “Nothing,” I say.
    She raises an eyebrow. “You got something in that bucket?”
    I think about that for a moment. I’ve already made one girl cry today and while something tells me it would take a lot to make this one break down, there’s only so much crying a guy can take in one day. I’ve reached my limit.
    “A frog,” I say, looking at her steadily.
    “Let me see,” she says. “I’m from the island. Maybe I can tell you what kinda frog you got.” She glances at the bucket, then back at me.
    “I’m sorry, I can’t do that.” I pause. “It’s a poison frog.”
    “A poison frog?” She gives me a hard look, then bites her lip as if she’s struggling not to smile.
    “Yes, there are many poison frogs in Central America. You’re a native. You should know that.”
    “I’ve never seen a poison frog on Utila.”
    “Have you ever seen a huge hairy tarantula on Utila?”
    “Well, yes, as a matter o’ fact I have, and I can’t say I’m partial to ’em.”
    “Exactly. Now if you’ll just step aside, I need to take my poison frog for a little walk. Do you have any suggestions where he might like to go?”
    “Down the toilet,” she says flatly. “And flush ’im twice.”
    “Thank you for your suggestion, but my poison frog would rather return to
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