I can feel them crawling.  On me, under me, around me.  Their small, fluttering wings.  Their millions of tiny feet.  Their hivemind screaming out to me.  But not just how they touch me or how they slide on me; I feel them all around, in the walls, under the carpet.  A blanket of them nearly blots out the light, only letting in a few misguided rays, and I welcome the darkness.  The darkness lets me focus on their thoughts.  It was almost torture trying to understand them at first, their high pitched voices ringing in my ears.  After listening to them for years, though, that gives you enough time to pick out certain thoughts.  It’s still not comfortable, it’s still a scratching, yelling, bleeding ringing in my ears, but I understand it now.  The neighbours used to complain.

But as a man once said, with great power comes great responsibility.  I use this knowledge for good, these powers.  My mind is strong, my skin tough to their biting and their gnawing, but others aren’t so.  That’s how I attract more.  Much as I live in my home now, alone except for my guests, I have found them homes to live in.  Rapists, murderers, adulterers, their rotten minds are now homes for something more precious than vile, twisted thoughts.  With each one I can feel my power growing.  And the voices get louder with each new mouth, screaming to be fed.

At first I fled the city, so our family could leave in solitude.  That didn’t last long.  They need to be around people, skittering underfoot, through people.  I taste what they taste.  I hear what they hear.  And they hear a knock at the door.  I wonder who that could be this time of night, and I don’t usually get visitors.  I’m lying down right now though.  I’ll get my guests to answer.