Chapter 1:
V.O.V
One day, I woke up from my sleep to a strange sound—a faint, persistent whistle. At first, I thought it might be my imagination, but it was so distinct, so real. Curious and slightly unnerved, I turned to my son and asked, "Do you hear that? That strange whistling sound?" He looked at me, confused, and said, "No, I don’t hear anything." His response left me wondering if the sound was all in my head—or something only I was meant to hear. After convincing myself it might all be my imagination, I tried to sleep, but the constant whistling sound refused to let me rest.
"I couldn’t sleep.
Days passed, but that persistent whistling sound refused to leave my head. Then one day, I made a strange discovery—whenever I was talking to someone, the sound would stop, if only for a moment. Desperate for relief, I asked my wife to keep talking to me until I fell asleep. It worked. After a week of sleepless torment, I finally drifted off and slept for nearly four days straight. But when I woke up, the sound was back—louder and more relentless than ever."
The constant whistling sound was driving me crazier than I ever thought possible. At first, I assumed there must be something wrong with my ears. One day, desperate for answers, I went to a doctor for a checkup. But the results left me more shocked than ever—my ears were perfectly fine. No issues. So why? Why was I still hearing that godforsaken whistle in my head? Why wouldn't it stop? Even the doctor seemed baffled when I described my condition. After a long pause, they handed me a card with a psychiatrist's contact information. I took the card, but the thought of the doctor assuming I was crazy kept fueling my anger. Because of that, I avoided contacting the psychiatrist. Yet, day by day, the whistling grew louder and more unbearable. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore and decided to make the call.
When my calls went unanswered, I kept trying, but no one picked up. Then, the next day, I suddenly received a call from that number. I tried to explain my situation, but the person on the other end said, "I can't understand what you're trying to say. I'm sorry, but I'll send you my home address. Please come over tomorrow so we can talk." Before I could respond, he hung up. I was confused—why hadn't he called me to his clinic or somewhere professional? Why his house? The thought nagged at me, but I decided to ignore it.
The next day, I arrived at his address and rang the doorbell. A lady opened it and asked, "Who are you?"
"I'm here to meet Dr. Yash. Does he live here?" I replied. Her expression softened as she stepped aside. "Oh, please come in," she said, gesturing for me to enter.
I stepped inside the house, which was unnervingly white. I’m not sure why, but I found myself sitting on the sofa. The lady handed me a cup of tea, and as I sipped it, a man walked in from the other room. "Hello, I'm Dr. Yash. I believe we spoke on the phone yesterday," he said.
I nodded, anxiety bubbling up inside me. "Yes, Doctor. I really need your help. I'm suffering from something... bizarre. I don’t even know what it is, but please, Doctor, help me."
"Alright, alright, please calm down," Dr. Yash said, his voice steady. "Tell me exactly what’s been happening."
For almost three weeks, I've been hearing a strange whistling sound—one that no one else seems to notice. What's even more bizarre is that when I talk to someone, the whistling suddenly stops. I’ve had my ears checked, and they’re perfectly fine, but I still have no idea what's going on.
"Okay, first of all, this is really strange. I've been a psychiatrist for almost ten years, but I've never encountered anything like this in my entire career. I mean, this is totally bizarre," Dr. Yash said.
"Yeah, doctor, I know it sounds crazy, but please—can you help me stop this constant whistling sound?" I pleaded.
"I understand, sir. That's why we need to run some tests on your brain. However, my clinic is currently sealed," Dr. Yash said.
"Sealed? Why, doctor? Did something happen?" I asked.
"Last week, one of my patients, whom I had been treating for almost three months, took her own life in my clinic during a routine check-up. The police have sealed off the clinic for investigation, and that's why I called you to come over to my house," Dr. Yash replied.
"oh, I see" I said
"Dr. Yash spoke, 'The doctor has given me a week, as next week they'll be reopening my clinic. Until then, please provide me with your bio data and a full report on your health. Also, I'd appreciate it if you could introduce me to your friend or son so I can understand more about you from a different perspective.'"
"Okay, Doctor, tomorrow I'll send my son with my health report, and you can speak with him," I said.
I stood up, thanked the doctor for listening to my concerns, and left his office. As soon as I stepped outside, the whistling sound began to echo in my head again—just like it always did when I was alone. But now, finally, someone was willing to help me.
I was determined—this whistling would end once and for all!
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