I’m pulling up to the house after therapy when the static starts bleeding into my ears.
It’s the usual soundtrack for being outside. White noise with teeth. I’ve learned to function through it the same way other people function through tinnitus or traffic noise, just part of the ambient hum of existing in the world. I kill the engine and pop the door open.
The static cranks up immediately. Louder than normal. Enough that I wince without meaning to.
Inside the noise I can almost pick out voices. Fragments of conversations happening just outside my ability to parse them. Words that dissolve the second I try to focus on them, like trying to grab smoke.
I step out onto the curb, and the volume spikes hard enough that my hand shoots up to my ear before I can stop it. My palm presses flat against the side of my head like that’s going to do anything.
I force my hand back down and reach for my keys. Lock the car. The beep cuts through the static for half a second before the noise swallows the sound whole again.
Then there’s a woman standing next to me.
I jerk backward, my shoulder hitting the car door.
She’s talking. Her mouth is moving, words coming out, but the static is so loud now that I can’t make out a single syllable. Just the shape of her lips forming sounds that don’t reach me.
“Drink her hair.”
The voice cuts clean through the noise. Clear and direct, like someone leaning in close to whisper directly into my brain.
“No, don’t drink her hair, are you a moron? Why would you tell him to do that?”
Another voice. Different pitch. Arguing with the first one.
The woman in front of me stops talking. Concern pulls at the corners of her mouth, her eyebrows drawing together.
I can see her speak again, slower this time, deliberate.
“Are you okay?”
I read the words off her lips more than hear them.
I breathe in. Then out. The static doesn’t budge. If anything, it’s getting worse, filling my skull like water rising in a sealed room.
“Austin’s thirsty,” the first voice insists. “He needs sustenance.”
“Right, yeah, bruv, don’t listen to these twats,” a third voice cuts in, British accent thick and fake sounding. “What you need is a proper cup of tea, not someone’s bloody hair.”
“YOU CAN’T DRINK HAIR!” the second voice shouts so loud I flinch. “IT’S NOT A LIQUID!”
My breathing picks up, shallow and fast. She stiffens, her eyes darting from my face to my hand pressed against my ear, taking in the way I’m swaying slightly on my feet.
She slows her cadence, exaggerating each syllable.
“Can you hear me?” she mouths.
I shake my head.
She takes a small step closer, hands coming up slightly like she’s approaching a spooked animal.
I shove my hand into my pocket until my fingers close around my wallet, then pull out the laminated card. My fingers are shaking enough that I almost drop it, but I manage to hold it out to her.
She takes it carefully, her eyes dropping to read.
Hello, my name is Austin. I have schizophrenia. I sometimes experience auditory hallucinations, visual hallucinations, and sensory overload. I may have difficulty hearing you or responding appropriately. I apologize for any inconvenience.
Understanding clicks into place across her features.
She nods once, firm and decisive.
Then she grabs my arm. Not rough, but with enough pressure that I feel the intention behind it. She points past me, toward my house. The porch with its leftward lean is visible from here, maybe thirty feet away.
I try to pull back gently, my mouth forming words I can’t hear myself saying. “I’m fine. I can make it inside. I’m okay.”
But I don’t know if the words actually come out. I can’t hear my own voice. The static has drowned out everything else, and underneath it the voices are still arguing about tea and hair and liquids, overlapping until they’re just noise layered on top of noise.
The woman doesn’t let go. She’s steering me now, one hand on my arm, the other gesturing toward the house like she’s trying to communicate through movement alone.
My feet move automatically. One step, then another. The curb, the sidewalk, the overgrown grass of my front yard passing beneath me in a blur.
Movement catches my eye. My head turns toward the front window of the house.
Nicole’s there. Standing inside, visible through the glass. Her white eyes locked on to me. Her face isn’t scared or sad like it’s been before. She looks bothered. Annoyed in a way that makes her jaw set and her shoulders pull tight.
Then her mouth opens.
“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM!”
The scream rips through everything. Not muffled by glass or distance. Just raw and immediate and so loud it feels like it’s tearing the air apart.
The static cuts out.
Just stops. Like someone flipped a switch. The voices arguing about tea and hair vanish. The white noise that’s been filling my skull for the past five minutes disappears so completely that the silence left behind feels physical. The source of this chapter is novelping dot com.
Birds explode from the trees across the street. A whole flock of them scattering into the sky in a burst of wings and panicked movement.
I blink at the sudden quiet. My hand drops from my ear.
“Oh.” I let out a breath that turns into a laugh halfway through. “I’m all good. I can hear again.”
The woman still has her hand on my arm. She’s looking at me with that same concerned expression. She doesn’t glance at the window. Doesn’t react to the scream or the birds or any of it. Just keeps her focus on me like nothing happened.
I turn my head back toward the window.
Nicole’s gone. The space where she was standing is empty. Just the bare living room wall visible through the glass.
“Thank you,” I say to the woman, and this time I can actually hear myself. My voice sounds normal again. Not muffled or distant. “I really appreciate it, but I’m okay now.”
The woman’s eyebrows pull together slightly. She glances at the house, then back at me, like she’s trying to decide if I’m actually okay or just saying it.
“Are you sure?” she asks. Her voice is warm, careful. The kind of tone people use when they’re not convinced but don’t want to push.
“Yeah. I promise.” I gesture toward the house with my free hand. “I just need to get inside and sit down for a bit. This happens sometimes. It passes.”
She lets go of my arm.
“Okay,” she says.
She holds out her hand. “I’m Jessica. I just moved in next door today.”
I take her hand and shake it. Her grip is firm, confident. “Austin.”
“I just came over to say hi, but then you looked like you were struggling.” She hands the laminated card back to me, and I tuck it into my wallet. “Schizophrenia, huh? That must be really hard.”
I shrug, pocketing my wallet. “Like anything, you get used to it.”
Her brown eyes remain steady on my face. “Do you want me to help you inside? Maybe I can make you some tea.”
The British voice echoes in my head from a minute ago.
I push the thought away. “No, thanks. I’m fine. Really.”
She rocks back slightly on her heels. “Alright. Well then, I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah.”
She smiles, and it’s warm, reaching her eyes in a way that feels genuine. “It was nice to meet you, Austin.”
“You too.”
She turns and walks back toward the house next door, her steps easy and unhurried. I watch her go for a second before I turn toward my own front door.
The porch creaks under my weight as I climb the two steps. My hand is steadier now when I pull out my keys, and the lock clicks open on the first try.
I step inside and close the door behind me.
The living room is empty. No Nicole standing at the window. No presence hovering in the corners. Just the couch and the CD player sitting against the wall where I left it.
“Nicole?” I say to the room.
Nothing.
I walk over to my desk and freeze.
My gaming laptop is open.
I left it closed this morning. I’m sure of it. The screen is dark but the power light is on, that faint glow pulsing in the dim room.
While I’m staring at it, the screen flickers to life. The monitor brightens like it’s waking from sleep, except I didn’t touch it.
The AIM window is already there, sitting in the center of the display.
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: who the FUCK was that girl
“Her name was Jessica,” I say out loud. “She’s our new neighbor.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: why was she TOUCHING you???????????
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: WHY WAS SHE HOLDING YOUR ARM
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: WHY DID SHE WALK YOU TO THE HOUSE
“I was having a really bad episode,” I say. My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “She saw me struggling and I think she got nervous. She was just trying to help me get inside safely.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: she seemed super weird...
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: like TOO nice
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: nobody is that nice to strangers
A grin spreads across my face before I can stop it.
“Nicole,” I say, leaning forward toward the screen. “Are you perhaps jealous?”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: NO
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: IM NOT JEALOUS
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: WHY WOULD I BE JEALOUS
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: IM JUST SAYING SHES WEIRD
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: AND YOU SHOULDNT TRUST HER
I laugh, the sound coming out louder than I mean it to. The tension from the episode outside is already dissolving, replaced by this warm feeling spreading through my chest.
“You screamed so loud you made birds fly away,” I point out.
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: SO?
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: I WAS JUST
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: MAKING SURE YOU WERE OK
“You told her to get away from me.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: BC SHE WAS TOUCHING YOU
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: WITHOUT PERMISSION
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: THATS WEIRD
The smile refuses to budge. I can’t help it. The all-caps defensiveness is really cute.
“She had permission,” I say. “I gave her my card. She was helping me.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: whatever
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: i still think shes weird
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: and you should stay away from her
“Why?”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: FINE DO WHATEVER YOU WANT AUSTIN
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: GO MAKE BABIES WITH HER OR WHATEVER
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: UR SO ANNOYING
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: BYE
The laptop screen goes black like someone yanked the power cord straight out of the wall.
“Wait, Nicole!” I lean forward in my chair, staring at the dead screen. “I was just teasing you. I’m sorry. I want to talk more, please.”
The laptop sits there, lifeless. The power light is off now. No hum from the fan. Nothing.
I wait, counting the seconds in my head. Ten. Twenty. Thirty.
“Nicole?”
The room stays quiet.
I push back from the desk and let out a long breath. The exhaustion from the episode outside is catching up to me now, settling into my bones like weight. My head feels heavy.
I stand up and walk over to my bed, dropping onto the mattress. The springs creak under me. I lie back and stare at the ceiling, my hands folded on my chest.
The quiet stretches out. No AIM chime. No cold presence materializing in the corner. Just me and the empty room and the faint sound of a car passing outside.
“Why did one of the voices have a fake British accent?”