The darkness that surrounds us, it won't stay
But it has to come, before the light.
My Father says if we talk to people, the things they will say, will just make us out to be crazy.
But I think it is time people know the truth.
Sometimes, our minds' can lie to us.
Those lies, they can seem so real.
But I believe you know the truth, by the way it feels.
I know the sound my Mother heard was real.
I often think back, to before the sound.
Those memories are fading.
I remember when it started.
It just came.
Out of nothing.
Do you hear that?
Hear what?
It wasn't always there.
It would come, and go.
We would never hear anything.
But she was so certain it was there.
It came from outside somewhere.
It would eat away at her.
Getting louder and louder.
Did you check the electrics again?
Yes. It's not that.
Did the workers hear anything?
No.
We'll figure it out kid, I promise.
Soon it seems not even the walls of the house could it out.
Well sometimes PTSD...
People who are susceptible to stress related illnesses...
I recommend supervision.
And some further tests.
Preferably at a hospital.
She'll stay home with us.
She became obsessed, trying to keep it out.
My father said the sound was in my Mother's head.
That it wasn't real.
He wanted me to just accept what they said.
Like he had.
But to me, there was something so real about her reaction to the sound.
I couldn't ignore it.
Finding it became my obsession too.
I wanted to prove everyone wrong.
I learned about others.
Plagued by sounds.
Strange sounds only they could hear.
Sounds that would drive them to the edge.
Beth!
What are you doing?
Beth!
I'm fine.
Where are you going?
I'm walking.
It came from wind farms, machines, animals. Even the weather.
Those people were able to hear at frequencies others couldn't.
I wondered if my Mother was like them.
Was that the answer?
Or did the sound signal something else?
My father told me how unwell my Mother was when I was young.
I've tried to remember that, but I can't.
What if they were right?
What if it was all in her mind?
I wondered sometimes...
About whether I was wrong to believe it?
But her suffering was so real.
I would feel guilty for questioning it.
Sometimes.
It was like I could feel it too.
Trying to get in.
The longer we went without answers, the less certain my Father seemed.
I wondered if he begin to feel it too?
We all wanted so desperately for it to stop.
To leave her alone.
Then, one day it did.
They said she took her own life.
But I believe that the sound took her from us.
For the two of us left.
The pain we feel.
That is our sound.
Do you think we'll ever know?
Sometimes...
I think it's OK not to know.
I think it's still out there.
The more I think back to what happened.
The more certain than ever I am, the sound was real.
I think my father knows it too. But he's too afraid to look.
Afraid of what people might say if we talk about it.
That is why I'm reaching out to you, on here.
I hope one of you might know something.
Have the answers I need.
I believe the sound is still out there.