I didn't sleep.
Not because I couldn't.
Because I didn't want to.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my face in that forged message.
My words. But not mine.
My intent. But poisoned.
They'd taken my identity and weaponized it.
I wasn't a thought broker anymore.
I was the product.
And someone else was selling me.
---
I woke before the alarm. Not that I needed it.
The city was grey. Again.
The kind of grey that looked like it was whispering: "You lost already."
I walked to school with heavy steps and heavier thoughts, scanning every face I passed.
Someone was watching me. Listening to me.
Mocking me.
> "Let's see how far he can fall before he snaps."
I hadn't forgotten that voice.
I was going to find them.
Not just for revenge.
But because I was running out of time.
---
At school, something had shifted.
The air didn't just feel cold.
It felt contaminated.
Classmates avoided eye contact, but whispered louder than ever.
> "He tried to blackmail a girl." "I bet he's done worse." "He's so quiet. Creepy types are always like that."
Funny.
When I was invisible, they forgot I existed.
Now that I was infamous, they acted like they always knew.
---
Break time.
I sat at the far end of the corridor, near the broken lockers.
That's when I heard it.
A familiar voice. Too familiar.
Rakib.
> "What a freak. Thought he could scare us by acting crazy. Who even lies about reading thoughts?"
I kept my head down. He was nearby, talking to some juniors.
> "Let's say he really could hear us. Where's the proof, huh?" "He's all bark. No bite."
No thoughts about the forged message. No mention of the blackmail.
He was clear.
Not the one.
Not Whisper.
---
But someone else was.
As the hallway emptied, I sat in silence — not looking, not blinking, just listening.
Then, suddenly, a thought hit me.
Not loud. Not panicked.
Calm. Clean. Calculated.
> "He's scanning again. Like a dog sniffing for poison."
My blood froze.
I turned my head slowly.
Three girls stood across the corridor, laughing over a phone.
Only one of them looked at me for half a second.
No emotion.
No fear.
Just a glance.
> "Still thinks he's the hunter. Cute."
It was her.
One of them.
The Parasite.
---
I stood up.
Started walking away like nothing happened.
If she was watching me, she'd think I was retreating. Hiding. Hurting.
Perfect.
Because I needed time to plan.
---
Lunch.
I didn't eat.
I hadn't eaten properly in days. My body was screaming for food, but my mind was louder.
I slipped into the library and opened my notebook.
I drew a triangle.
At each corner, I wrote:
My power
Their forgery
The lie that spreads faster than proof
I had no allies.
No evidence.
No guarantee that even if I exposed her, anyone would believe me.
I needed more.
---
The next hour, I skipped class.
Instead, I walked the halls like a ghost.
Eavesdropping.
Tuning my power in and out like a radio.
That's when I got my first clue.
> "Did you hear? Sana's in the nurse's room. Panic attack or something."
Sana?
I didn't know her well. But the name rang a bell.
Wait—
She was the girl in the forged message.
The "victim."
My heart pounded.
---
I went to the nurse's office quietly and peeked through the glass panel.
She was lying down, eyes red. Breathing shallow. Shaking.
The nurse stepped out to answer a call, and I took my shot.
I slipped in and stood near the curtain.
"Hey," I whispered.
She looked up. Flinched.
"Wait— I'm not here to hurt you," I said quickly. "I just need to ask something."
"I don't want to talk to you," she said. Her voice cracked.
"I didn't send that message," I said. "I swear."
Silence.
Then—
> "He looks scared. Not angry. What if… no, no. They said he was lying."
I blinked.
I could hear her.
But not clearly.
Her thoughts were distorted, like static. Blurry. Half-jammed.
I leaned closer.
> "They told me… if I just say nothing, it'll go away. They said they'd protect me…"
My heart twisted.
She wasn't behind it.
She was a pawn.
---
"You're not safe," I said softly. "They're using you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
But she did.
> "I don't know his name. Just… the messages. The threats. They said if I helped…"
The nurse came back in. I nodded and slipped out.
But I had what I needed.
---
They were using fake messages.
Fake screenshots.
Fake victims.
To destroy me from the inside out.
And they were doing it smart — by making others carry the lie.
No direct confrontation.
Just quiet ruin.
Like a virus.
---
I left school early.
My legs took me home, but my mind was elsewhere.
Not on survival.
Not anymore.
This was war.
And I had no weapons.
Yet.
---
That night, I opened an anonymous email account.
Typed one sentence.
> "You've taken your shot."
Another.
> "Now it's my turn."
I attached a copy of the blackmail screenshot.
Edited it.
Made it look like it came from someone else.
Then sent it — to myself.
A backup plan.
If I was going to play dirty, I needed dirt that screamed louder.
---
The next day, I wouldn't be Syed Arman, the broke scholarship kid.
I would be someone else.
Someone they couldn't predict.
Because if they wanted war…
I'd be the whisper they never saw coming.
---
[To Be Continued…]