Jess slumped on the sagging couch of her third-floor apartment, the city’s distant hum seeping through the cracked window, muffled by the heavy curtains she’d drawn tight against the sodium glow of the streetlights below. Her legs dangled over the armrest, one sock missing, the remote loose in her hand as she flipped through channels with a half-hearted jab of her thumb, the TV’s buzz a constant drone in the quiet room. The set—an old CRT she’d snagged from a thrift store for twenty bucks, its plastic casing yellowed and scratched—flared with static, sharp bursts of white noise that had haunted her for three nights straight, a relentless glitch she couldn’t shake. She’d unplugged it once, stood over it as the screen faded to black, the hum dying to silence, only to wake at 3 a.m. to its glow creeping under her bedroom door, casting warped shadows across the peeling wallpaper. Tonight, she lingered, too exhausted to fight it again, her eyes half-lidded as the static danced, a chaotic sea of black and white that flickered like a storm. Then, something shifted—a face emerged from the noise, pale as bleached bone, eyeless sockets gaping, its lips curling into a slow, unnatural smile that stretched too wide, splitting the screen with a grin that wasn’t human.
“Jessss…” it rasped, the sound clawing through the speakers, rough as gravel dragged across glass, a voice that didn’t belong to any channel or signal she knew. She froze, breath catching in her throat, the remote slipping from her fingers to clatter onto the hardwood floor, the sound sharp in the stillness. The screen glitched, static parting like a torn curtain, and there was her apartment—her couch, her slouched figure, staring back at herself from the glass, a perfect mirror of the moment, distorted by the face pressing closer, its grin widening until it filled the frame, teeth glinting faintly in the flickering light. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she lunged for the cord, yanking it from the wall with a desperate tug that toppled the stand, the plug skittering across the floor. The screen stayed lit, the hum swelling into a drone that vibrated in her bones, rattling the loose change on the coffee table, the picture frames on the mantle trembling. Laughter bubbled up—not from the TV, but inside her skull, cold and sharp, threading through her thoughts like a needle, piercing and inescapable.
She stumbled to her feet, knocking over a lamp in her panic, the bulb shattering with a pop that plunged the room into deeper shadow, shards glinting in the TV’s sickly glow. The light pulsed brighter, casting jagged silhouettes across the walls, stretching and twisting like fingers reaching for her, the shadows bending where they shouldn’t. Her phone buzzed on the table—its screen flared to life, unprompted, showing the same eyeless face, grinning from the lock screen where her photo of the pier should have been, the wood and waves replaced by that pale, hollow stare. She grabbed it, hands shaking so hard she nearly dropped it, and hurled it against the wall with a cry, the crack of impact loud but futile—it landed face-up, the smile unwavering, staring up at her from the splintered glass. Her laptop whirred on the kitchen counter, lid still closed, but the screen glowed through the seam, that same face peering out, its edges flickering with static like a corrupted file. “You can’t leave,” the voice whispered, echoing from every device, seeping into the air, wrapping around her like a shroud, a chorus of whispers that slithered through the room, inescapable and suffocating.
Panic clawed at her chest, her pulse pounding in her ears until it drowned out the hum, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She staggered to the closet, fumbling through coats and boxes, her fingers brushing against old scarves and forgotten junk—a broken umbrella, a dusty tennis racket—until they closed around the handle of a baseball bat, its wood chipped but solid, a lifeline in her trembling grip. She turned back to the TV, her bare feet crunching on glass, pain flaring as a shard bit into her heel, but she barely felt it, her focus locked on the screen. The face filled it now, eyeless sockets boring into her, the grin stretching beyond the frame, impossible and wrong, lips curling back to reveal rows of teeth that shimmered like wet bone. She swung the bat, putting all her fear and fury into it, the crack of impact reverberating through the apartment like a gunshot, glass exploding in a shower of glittering shards that rained across the carpet, sparks hissing and popping in the dark as the frame crumpled inward. But the laughter didn’t stop—it grew, reverberating through the walls, the floor, the ceiling, a chorus of mocking voices that swelled louder, closer, pressing in on her from every direction, a sound that clawed at her mind.
Jess dropped the bat, chest heaving, her hands flying to her ears as if she could block it out, but the sound burrowed deeper, relentless, echoing inside her skull like a parasite. Glass crunched under her feet as she stepped back, pain lancing up her legs, blood smearing the floor in dark streaks, her eyes locked on the wreckage. In the largest shard, still faintly glowing with a sickly light, her reflection stared back—pale, eyeless, smiling her own smile, lips curling wider than her face should allow, a mirror of the thing she’d tried to destroy. She stumbled, a scream rising in her throat, but it drowned in the static that flooded the room, thick and suffocating, like fog rolling in from a dead sea. The shadows thickened, curling around her like tendrils, cold against her skin, pulling her down with a weight she couldn’t fight. She sank to her knees, hands clawing at her face, nails digging into her cheeks, drawing blood that mingled with the tears streaming down, but the laughter followed, relentless, burrowing into her mind, a sound that wasn’t hers anymore.
The apartment door creaked open—she hadn’t touched it, hadn’t heard it move—but beyond it, the hallway flickered with the same white noise, the same eyeless grin stretching across the walls like a stain, a smear of static that pulsed with intent. She crawled toward it, desperation driving her, the bat abandoned behind her, glass cutting into her palms and knees, leaving a trail of red across the floor. The air grew heavier with each inch, pressing her down, the static swelling until it was all she could hear, all she could feel, a tide pulling her under. She reached the threshold, fingers brushing the cold linoleum of the hallway, but the light shifted—her shadow stretched ahead, too long, too thin, bending where it shouldn’t, and when she looked up, the face was there, hovering in the air, eyeless and smiling, closer than ever, its grin splitting wider as it loomed. She screamed again, the sound swallowed by the noise, and the shadows closed in, wrapping her in their cold embrace, pulling her into the flickering dark where the laughter never stopped, where the static became her world, her prison, her eternity.