The static starts the second I open my eyes.
Not loud. Just there. A layer of white noise sitting right at the edge of my hearing, like someone left a TV on in another room. I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, cataloging the sound.
I push myself up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The hardwood is cold under my feet. The low hum follows me as I stand, as consistent as my own breathing.
Nicole hasn’t messaged me in days. I don’t know how many exactly. Five? Six? Time blurs together when you’re waiting for a notification that never comes. The AIM window hasn’t popped up once since she dropped through my floor holding my cum-stained sweatpants. The house has been quiet. Lonely.
I walk to my desk and drop into the chair. My work laptop sits closed. My gaming laptop is open, screen dark, power light glowing steady. I tap the touchpad and the display flickers to life.
No grey window waiting for me. No messages. Just my desktop wallpaper and a few minimized browser tabs.
I lean back and stare at the screen.
The white noise shifts slightly, and underneath it, I hear voices. Distant and muffled.
“Yeah, he’s woken up.” A woman’s voice. Clear enough to make out the words, yet distant enough that I know she’s not talking to me. “But he’s not doing much of anything as far as I can tell.”
Another woman responds, but the words dissolve into the electric fuzz before I can parse them.
I close my eyes and breathe in through my nose. Tiffany taught me about this long ago. It’s normal to sometimes hear voices that make you think you’re being watched and followed. As a kid, that’s how it always felt. Like there were people just outside my field of vision, talking about me, tracking my movements, cataloging everything I did.
So now whenever I hear voices spying on me, I just know it’s my brain playing tricks.
I open my eyes again and the buzz tightens just enough for words to cut through.
“Has he masturbated?”
Another female voice.
The first voice responds, “I don’t think so, boss. But you gotta calm down, he’s almost half your age.”
A laugh cuts through the noise. Piercing and way too interested.
“He’s lucky he’s an important assignment,” the second voice says, and there’s hunger in it. “Otherwise I would have devoured him by now.”
“He’s cute, boss,” the first voice says, and I can hear the exasperation bleeding through. “But you sound like a literal predator every time you talk about him.”
I let out a long breath and rub my face with both hands.
“Why are all my hallucinations so horny lately?”
The words come out louder than I mean them to. My voice echoes slightly in the empty bedroom, competing with the hum that refuses to fade.
I stand up from the desk and stretch until my spine cracks. The voices dissolve back into formless noise again. Just the steady buzz underneath everything.
I need to get out of this house.
The thought hits me with sudden clarity. I’ve been cooped up for days now, working and waiting for Nicole to message me. Maybe if I leave and do normal human things like grocery shopping, the noise will calm down. Give my brain a reset.
*****
The fluorescent lights at Stop & Shop feel like they’re drilling directly into my skull.
I’m pushing my cart down the produce aisle, moving on autopilot, when the hiss in my ears clears just enough for more words to break through.
“Yeah, he’s just food shopping. Nothing special.” The same woman’s voice. Matter-of-fact, bored, even.
I pause next to a display of apples and mutter under my breath, “Jesus Christ, don’t the voices have anything better to do right now?”
The cart wheel squeaks as I push forward again. I grab a bag of baby carrots without really looking at it and toss it in the cart. The motion feels mechanical. Necessary. Keep moving, keep my hands busy, don’t let the noise settle in too deep.
The buzzing cuts out completely. I barely have time to register the sudden silence before I hear footsteps approaching from behind me.
“Austin?”
A woman’s voice. Real this time, not filtered through white noise. Clear and present in a way that makes my shoulders tense.
I turn around.
The woman standing in front of me is stunning in that deliberate, aggressive way that makes you stop and stare. Short pink pixie cut with layered bangs that fall across her forehead. Bright teal eyes lined heavy with black eyeliner. Black lipstick. She’s wearing a fitted black crop top that shows off her curves, and I’m trying very hard not to notice the way her chest is practically spilling out of it. High-waisted leather mini skirt.
“No fucking way. Austin Cook?”
She laughs, bright and loud, and before I can process what’s happening she pushes me. Not hard, but enough that I rock back on my heels.
“Holy shit, it’s been so long!” New chapters come out on g.com first.
I blink at her. My brain scrambles to place her face, her voice, anything. Nothing comes up. Just blank space where recognition should be.
“What?”
Her smile falters slightly. “What? You don’t remember me?”
“I’m sorry, no. I don’t.”
Her mouth drops open in exaggerated shock. “It’s me. Vanessa.” She gestures at herself like that should clear everything up. “Don’t you remember? The girl you used to beg to marry you back in Paul Revere?”
“Where?”
“Elementary school, dumbass!”
She reaches out and smacks the side of my head. Not hard enough to hurt, just a playful tap, but I still flinch.
A nervous chuckle escapes me. My mind is racing, trying to pull up anything from that time. But there’s nothing there. Just fog. I vaguely remember starting middle school. Fragments of being ten, maybe eleven. Before that? It’s all extremely hazy at best, certainly with nothing concrete about school.
I force a smile. “That’s right. I do remember you.”
The lie comes out practiced. I’ve gotten good at this over the years. Filling in gaps, pretending I remember things that are just blank spaces in my head.
“Sorry,” I add quickly. “I have trouble with my memory and stuff sometimes.”
Vanessa’s expression shifts immediately. Her bottom lip pushes out in this exaggerated pout, and her teal eyes go wide with theatrical sympathy.
“Oh no, you poor little baby.”
Before I can react, she’s pulling me into a hug. My face presses directly into her chest. Her arms wrap around me tight, one hand cradling the back of my head.
“I bet you didn’t even realize how much you missed your big sister, huh?”
The words filter through the fabric of her crop top. I can feel my face heating up, and I gently push back, creating space between us.
“Did I call you that?” I ask, stepping back far enough to meet her eyes again. “I have a real older sister, so that feels weird.”
“Oh yeah.” Vanessa waves her hand dismissively, like she’s swatting away the concern. “You used to follow me around all day and talk about our future like it was certain.”
She chuckles, and the sound is warm and familiar in a way that makes me feel even worse about not remembering her at all.
“So how the fuck are you?” she asks, her hands moving to her hips.
“Good. Just, you know...” I gesture vaguely at my cart. “Picking up groceries and all.”
“Yeah, same.” She rolls her eyes dramatically. “So boring.”
Her teal eyes lock onto mine with sudden intensity.
“What are you doing after this?”
“Going home.”
“No, no, that’s insane.” She steps closer, invading my personal space again. “We should hang out. Get caught up properly.”
My brain scrambles for a response. Part of me wants to say yes because she seems genuinely excited to see me, and she’s almost too hot to say no to. Another part is screaming that I have no idea who this person is, that I’m fabricating memories to fill the gaps, that this could go badly in ways I can’t predict.
“I don’t know...” I start.
“Come on, don’t be a pussy, Austin.”
“I really shouldn’t.”
I decide to just throw water on the whole situation. Better to be honest than dig myself deeper into this.
“The thing is, I have schizophrenia. So it’s kinda hard to go out.”
Vanessa’s face shifts immediately. “That’s not true.”
“It is. I really have it.”
“No, I mean…” She waves her hand. “My uncle has it and he goes out all the time!”
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Her teal eyes narrow slightly, but there’s amusement there. “What, you think I’m afraid of you getting weird on me?”
She laughs, loud and genuine, and the sound echoes off the produce section.
“Look, I just don’t know if I…”
“What are you so worried about?” She leans in, tilting her head. “That I’ll chew you up and spit you out?”
Her eyes shift, looking over my shoulder. Then she smiles at me, this time a bit more seriously.
“You know what,” she says. “I just remembered, I’ve got this thing I need to do today.”
Before I can respond, she reaches out and pokes my forehead with one black-painted nail.
“I’ll look up your number later. Expect a text.”
She’s already turning away, her pink hair bouncing as she moves. The speed of her exit catches me off guard.
“See you…”
“Hey, Austin.”
The voice comes from behind me, cutting through my half-finished goodbye.
I turn around.
Jessica’s standing there with a basket hooked over her arm. She’s dressed casually, jeans and a fitted top, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders. A warm smile spreads across her face when our eyes meet.
“Oh, hey, Jessica.”
“How are you?”
“I’m good. How are you?”
“Good.”
Her brown eyes study my face, and I can feel her focus sharpening. The way her gaze moves from my eyes to my posture to the way I’m gripping the cart handle.
“Do you need any help?” she asks. “I’d be happy to do anything. I can’t imagine how hard it is to…”
She stops. The sentence just hangs there, unfinished.
“No, I’m fine. Really.”
I try to keep my voice light, casual. The static is still gone, which is good, but now I’m standing in the middle of Stop & Shop with my neighbor looking at me like I might break.
“I promise,” I add. “Just doing some normal grocery shopping.”
Jessica’s smile softens. “Okay. But if you ever need anything, I’m right next door.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
She nods once, then glances down at her basket. “Well, I should finish up here. But it was good running into you.”
“Yeah, you too.”
She walks past me toward the deli, and I’m left standing there with my cart and my bag of baby carrots and the distinct feeling that the past few minutes have been completely surreal.
I sigh to myself, the sound barely audible over the hum of the store’s refrigeration units. My fingers tighten around the cart handle.
“I hope Nicole comes back soon.”
Vanessa:
Jessica: