By morning, I was ready.
No more being caught off guard.
No more reacting.
I was going to track them — this "Whisper."
But before I could make a move…
They made one.
---
It started during third period.
The principal walked in mid-class, holding a paper. His expression was unreadable.
"Syed Arman," he called.
My full name.
Every head turned.
"Come with me."
---
In his office, the counselor sat beside him. I could already feel the trap before a word was spoken.
She cleared her throat.
"We received this."
She slid a paper toward me.
It was a screenshot of a chat.
My name.
My profile picture.
A message.
> "Meet me behind the school after class. Or your secrets go public."
I blinked.
"I never wrote this."
They looked at each other. Not convinced.
"That's what blackmailers usually say," the counselor replied.
My heartbeat stuttered.
They thought I sent it.
But I hadn't touched that girl.
Didn't even know who she was.
---
Back in class, the stares burned deeper than usual.
Whispers. Real ones. Loud ones.
> "That's the guy. Tried to threaten a girl."
"He's always been creepy. Makes sense."
I clenched my fists under the desk.
They weren't just watching me now.
They were painting me as the villain.
And I couldn't even defend myself without exposing the truth.
---
After school, I slipped away behind the gym. Not because I had to — because I knew I'd find something.
Or someone.
And I was right.
A note was taped to the wall.
> "Lesson 2: Perception is stronger than truth."
"You're not the only one who can plant fear."
I tore it down, crumpled it, breathing hard.
They'd used my name. My image. My pattern.
And they weren't just listening anymore.
They were copying me.
Twisting my method into poison.
---
I started pacing the campus, scanning faces. I needed to hear something. Anything.
Then it came.
> "Poor girl. She was crying after the message."
"He always looked like a stalker. Should've known."
More thoughts.
More judgment.
None of it true.
And deeper in the static, a different thought.
Clear. Focused. Watching.
> "Let's see how far he can fall before he snaps."
I turned.
No one looked suspicious.
But I heard it.
They were here.
---
That night, no messages came.
No warnings. No threats.
Just silence.
And I hated it more than noise.
Because I knew what came next.
If they could forge a chat…
They could forge worse.
---
This was no longer a game of listening.
It was a war of identity.
And I was losing.
Unless I found them first.
---
[To Be Continued…]