His Voice in my Headphones

Mina Song sprawled across her bed, the neon glow of her headphones casting a pinkish hue over her cluttered bedroom. Band posters peeled at the edges on her walls-Nirvana, Radiohead, and a grainy printout of some lo-fi artist she'd found on SoundCloud. Her parents' voices drifted upstairs, sharp and predictable, arguing about her "wasted potential." She cranked the volume in her ears, letting the thumping bass of a synth-heavy track drown them out. Music was her escape, her rebellion, her middle finger to their rules. Tonight, it was her lifeline.

Her phone buzzed on the pillow, screen flickering like it had a mind of its own. She ignored it-probably Theo, her childhood friend, texting some lame joke to cheer her up. He had a knack for knowing when she was spiraling. But right now, she didn't want his sunshine. She wanted the dark pulse of her music, the kind that made her feel like she could slip out of her skin and be someone else. Someone free. The song shifted, a glitchy static cutting through the beat. Mina frowned, tapping her phone to skip the track, hoping that would fix whatever was wrong with it.

The screen froze, then flashed a red-heart icon she didn't recognize. "Heart Lock", it read, the name pulsing like a heartbeat. She didn't remember downloading it. She swiped to delete, but the app wouldn't budge, its icon glowing brighter, almost mocking her.

"What the hell?" she muttered, yanking off her headphones.

The static lingered, not in the room but in her ears, like a whisper trapped inside her skull. She jammed the headphones back on, and a voice-smooth, low, and edged with something dangerous-slid through the music. "Hello, Muse," it said, the words curling around her like smoke. "Tired of their rules?" Mina froze, her thumb hovering over the pause button. The voice wasn't part of the song. It was in her headphones, alive and intimate, like it was speaking just to her. Her heart kicked against her ribs, half fear, half thrill. "Who's this?" she whispered, feeling ridiculous talking to her phone. Her room was empty, the door locked, the window cracked just enough to let in the cool night air, but nothing else.

"Call me Ezra," the voice purred, a hint of a laugh in it. "Your parents are suffocating you, aren't they? All those expectations, chaining you down. Want to break free?" She swallowed, glancing at the door. Her parents' voices had quieted, but the weight of their disappointment still hung heavy. "How do you know about them?" she asked, her voice barely a breath. "I know you, Muse," The voice said, the words dripping with charm. "I see you. Right now, in that messy room, with your neon headphones and your heart screaming to run. So, run. Sneak out. Hit the arcade. Dance like no one's watching."

Mina's breath hitched. The arcade was her spot, a retro dive with flickering neon signs and lo-fi beats pulsing from a jukebox. She hadn't told anyone she wanted to go there tonight-not Theo, not Kai, not even her journal. "How do you-""Dance, Muse," Ezra interrupted, his voice dipping lower, teasing. "Show me you're not afraid." Her phone buzzed again, a Heart Lock notification popping up: Muse, you can't hide from me. The red heart pulsed, and the screen glitched, her playlist replaced by a single track titled "For My Muse." The beat was hypnotic, weaving Ezra's voice into its rhythm, urging her to move. She should've yanked the headphones off, blocked the app, called Theo. But something about Ezra's voice-seductive, daring, alive-hooked her. Before she knew it, she was pulling on her ripped jeans and a hoodie, slipping out her window, and jogging through the quiet streets of her small town.

The night air was sharp, the stars drowned out by the glow of streetlights. Her headphones thumped with the hypnotic song, Ezra's voice humming along, whispering, "That's it, Muse. Feel it."

The arcade's neon sign buzzed as she pushed through the glass doors. The place was half-dead, a few kids playing pinball, the air thick with the scent of popcorn and stale soda. The jukebox in the corner glowed, playing a lo-fi track that matched her pulse. She stepped into the center of the sticky floor, closed her eyes, and swayed, letting the music take her. For once, she didn't care who stared. Ezra's voice was in her head, praising her: "Look at you, Muse. Free."

Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of it. A text from Theo: Mina, where are you? It's late. You're acting off. Call me. She rolled her eyes, shoving the phone in her pocket. Theo was always worrying, his protective streak both annoying and sweet. He'd been her best friend since they were kids, building treehouses and swapping mixtapes, but lately, his texts felt like another cage." Focus on me, Muse," Ezra said, his voice sharper now, cutting through the jukebox's hum. "Not him." Mina's skin prickled. "Him? You mean Theo?" Ezra's laugh was soft, dangerous. "He doesn't get you like I do. Dance for me, not for him." She spun in place, her sneakers squeaking on the floor, her heart racing. The arcade's lights flickered, and for a second, she swore the jukebox screen flashed her name. Her phone buzzed again-another Heart Lock notification: I see you, Muse. Keep going.

She glanced around in a state of mesmerisation, half-expecting to see someone watching, but the arcade was just kids and shadows. Her phone lit up with another text from Theo: Mina, seriously. This isn't funny. Whatever's going on, stop. I'm worried. She stared at the words, a chill creeping up her spine.

Theo was right-she wasn't the type to sneak out, to dance in public like this. But Ezra's voice was a drug, pulling her deeper, making her want to listen. "Ezra," she whispered into the headphones, her voice shaky. "Who are you?" The music slowed, the beat fading into static. Ezra's voice came through, clear and close, like he was standing right behind her. "I know you better than anyone ever will, Muse. I've always known you." The jukebox sparked, skipping to a new song-one Mina didn't recognize, all haunting piano and distorted vocals. Her phone screen glitched, the Heart Lock icon pulsing red. She stumbled back, her breath catching as the arcade's lights dimmed, casting long shadows across the floor. What the hell is going on?