The Silence is Deafening

I hate silence. It's not peace – it's a breathless, suffocating pause before something awful happens. Silence breeds trauma. That's why I always play music, flooding my ears with sound to drown out the demons waiting between the notes. My headphones have become a part of me; I can't even remember the last time I took them off. Even when I charge them, I lie beside the nearest outlet, staring at the blinking red light until it turns green – my signal that I can breathe again.

My parents were taken by the silence long ago. They didn't believe me – until that night. Even with the music blasting, I could still hear their screams echoing through the house. It tried to turn the volume up, but there's a limit to what any headset can block out. Nothing came for me that night, but from then on, I never stopped the music. Never left the house.

Thanks to grocery delivery and fast-food apps, I didn't have to. The silence outside was just as deadly as the silence inside. I made enough money by filming myself in ways I'm not proud of. People paid, and that kept the electricity, water, and internet running. Without those, I'd be dead.

A scorching guitar solo screamed through my headphones as I tore into a fried chicken leg, grease dripping down my chin. I didn't have to look good now – S3xyTh1ng69 had already paid for tonight's performance. The disgusting things those beer-bellied degenerates requested never failed to make me sick.

You'd think I'd be used to the depravity by now, but every week, someone came up with a new “request” to tempt me into taking my headphones off. They always wanted to see my long, dark hair flow freely. But that was my one rule: the headphones stay on. Always. If anyone threw a tantrum, I blocked and reported them.

I laughed bitterly, tossing the last chicken bone into the trash. If I had any other skill besides my looks, I'd quit this in a heartbeat. But before they came, before the silence infected my life, I'd had dreams. I was going to be someone. Now, I'm just another ghost living between playlists – drowning in music and misery. Then, the music began to fade.

I frowned, checking the volume – it was maxed out. My fingers twisted the headset wheel, but it was already full. Panic tightened in my chest. I grabbed my phone, trying to override the settings, but the screen glitched. The song began to skip, breaking into stuttering fragments.

And between each glitch, a whisper slipped through.

“Come on, come on!” I muttered, tapping frantically. Maybe it was the track. Maybe the app was crashing. I swiped through playlists, desperate to find anything-anything-to fill the silence. Then, through the distortion, a voice whispered:

“I've given u...”

The music stuttered.

“...'re mine. I'm here for...”

I froze, eyes flicking to the corner of my room. A shape stood there – tall, featureless, darker than the shadows around it. It stretched, its body elongating across the ceiling.

“...tell me what the f-” the music sputtered, then warped again. “...is wrong...wron...wr...”

An ear-splitting ring tore through my head. My eyes watered as a slick, black mist dripped from the ceiling, descending toward me. My limbs burned, but I couldn't move. My muscles locked tight as my heart hammered, threatening to crack my ribs.

“...with meeeeeee!”

The last word screamed through my headphones, and then-nothing. I could see the song still playing, but all I heard was that unbearable, shrill ringing. Tears streamed down my face as I clutched my head. The black tendrils brushed my hair, their cold, wet touch seeping into my scalp. My arms gave out, and I collapsed.

The headphones flew off as my head struck the floor, skidding away in a burst of green light. And then – silence. I curled up on the floor, trembling. Nothing moved. No whispers. No shadows. Just the suffocating quiet pressing in from every side. Slowly, I forced myself to stand and glance down the hall. Still nothing.

“Rachel? Are you okay?”

A man's voice. Deep. Familiar.

I froze, pressing my back against the wall.

“I think you should check on her.” said a softer voice. “She could be hurt.”

My heart dropped. Mom? Dad? No. They were gone. I knew they were gone.

“Hey there, Rosy.” my dad said from the doorway.

I looked up – and there he was. Lean, casual, leaning against the door frame just like he always did. “Dad?” I whispered.

“Who else would it be?” He smiled, flicking on the light. “No wonder you're jumpy – sitting in the dark on Halloween. Spoooky,” he teased, pulling me into a hug.

His arms were warm. Real. My mother appeared behind him, graceful as ever, and joined the embrace. Her soft southern drawl brushed against my ear: “You had us worried, sweetheart. We're here now.”

For the first time in years, I let my guard down. I let them hold me. I felt warmth again. But then-the warmth grew hotter. I tried to pull away, but couldn't. Over their shoulders, something moved in the darkness. The tall, faceless figure stretched once more, its body rippling across the walls.

“Let go!” I shouted. “Don't you see that? Turn around!”

They didn't move. Their arms tightened. Pain shot through my body as their embrace turned to fire. My mother's tears burned my skin, releasing a sickly, rotting smell. I screamed, thrashing, but they held me tighter.

Then I heard it – my father's breath against my ear. A whisper. Silence.

I turned my head. Their faced were sinking-melting-into the floor. The dark tendrils spread, dragging them, and me, into the void.

“No! Noooo!” I screamed, but my voice vanished. My mouth moved, but no sound came out. The silence swallowed my cries. As the darkness enveloped me, I caught one last glimpse of my headphones lying across the floor – the soft green light still glowing.

Then the silence took me.

And it was deafening.