Claire, it’s four-thirty in the morning, why’re you doing this to me?

I’m not doing anything to you, I’m trying to figure this out.

This? This is you doing something to me. Look at where we are. You’re not even wearing any goddamn shoes.

As he continued to talk, I became aware of a slight pressure in my head. It wasn’t particularly painful; it wasn’t a headache, per se. It was more like a thickness. A fullness. As I focused on it, I realized I could feel it in my chest as well. It took me several moments to connect it to the sound. I realized that I was actually feeling the sound. Like waves of pressure. I felt it resonating in the cavities of my body; my skull. Permeating my empty spaces. As I thought this, I felt a tingling in my nose. I wiped it with my hand, and when I looked down, I noticed my hand was glistening with blood.

Oh my god.

What?

My nose—

I saw Paul see the blood. Jesus Christ, he murmured, and I told him to leave Jesus out of it. What’s wrong with you? he asked.

Maybe you should try an exorcism.

I think a Kleenex will do for now. Just hold your head back and let’s—

Don’t—touch me. I took an unsteady step back. You’re just completely dismissing this, this, I said, holding out the bloodied back of my hand.

The sound is giving you a nosebleed?

Don’t say it like that.

How am I supposed to say it?

And what if it is, what if it’s pulverizing my brain, Paul, and you’re offering me earplugs and Kleenex.

Just come inside. Please.

Do you believe me?

I—

Look, I said, wiping a fresh smear onto my hand, as if that were proof enough. The nosebleed, the pressure, the sound, they did feel connected, and at least the blood was something tangible Paul could see. Say you believe me, I said.

He bucked his head back, as if he was worried I was going to touch him with it. Frankly, I would’ve loved to have smacked a big red handprint on his face like a cave painting in Lascaux. He just couldn’t bring himself to say it. He insisted it was all stress induced, as in made up, as in stop being hysterical, and I said wow, shaking my head and smiling without joy. Wow.

Okay, he said, defeated. I believe you.

That I hear something?

Yes.

And you believe that thing, that sound, really exists?

He raised and dropped his arms, and asked, How can I possibly know whether the sound only you can hear—?

Because I’m telling you, and that should be enough.

He just looked at me like a dumb dog, and I turned and started walking away.