Paul’s palms covering my ears were like conch shells producing sounds of an ocean. My tears kept rolling down my cheeks, and fear tormented my soul that tremors in my hands and body were not stopping.
When I felt him taking his hands away from my ears, I clutched them, locking still in my ears. The fright of hearing voices and the possible loss of sanity because of my imagination that every part of my ears, veins, and brain would burst fiercely horrified me that I clutched his hands firmly. I shook my head, not wanting to be apart from him, and pressed my forehead to his chest.
Paul moved my head back a little and stared at me, looking hurt.
“Sai,” he uttered my name, taking my earphones and putting them in my ears. “It’s okay.”
I could hear Pachelbel’s Canon in D playing now as he m
