The Voice in the Static

When I was sixteen, something invisible tried to hurt me. My family and I lived in a small blue house in a quiet town. One afternoon, I came home from my after-school job. My father was in the kitchen preparing our meal. I said hello and watched him stir the pot for a minute before heading to my room to wait.

I lay on my bed and put on my headphones, tuning the radio to my favorite station. A familiar rock song started to play. But then the music began to warp and fade. A low, clear voice cut through the melody, repeating a single word: ‘Mine.’

I cried out ‘Stop!’ and tried to sit up. An immense, unseen pressure slammed me back against the mattress. I felt a cold grip tighten around my throat, squeezing the air from my lungs. I fought against the empty space above me, my heart hammering in my chest.

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