WHEN SHE FIRST LISTENED TO THE SONG, HER EYES WERE SHINING BRIGHT. THE MUSIC, THE LYRICS, THEY ENCHANTED HER. HER BODY ADAPTED TO THE MUSIC. HER LEGS BOBBED TO THE RYTHM. HER LIPS MOUTHED THE WORDS. HER HAIR SWAYED TO THE BEAT. SECOND AND THIRD TIME, SAME THING.IT WASN'T UNTIL THE FOURTH PLAY THAT SHE FROWNED. IT WASN'T THE MUSIC. IT WAS THE SAME. IT WASN'T THE LYRICS. THEY WERE THE SAME, TOO. NOTHING CHANGED. SHE LISTENED TO IT AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND THEN SHE REALIZED. IT WASN'T LIKE HER OTHER MUSIC. IT WAS MUCH MORE. IT WAS SCARY, AND COLD AND DEPRESSING, AND LONELY, AND SHE THIRSTED FOR IT TO BE FED INTO HER EARS EVERY SECOND. EVERY CYMBAL CRASH, A NEW TEAR WOULD APPEAR. SHE CRIED. SHE CRIED FOR THE DRUMMER. AND SINGER. SHE CRIED FOR THE BASSIST, AND GUITARIST. SHE CRIED FOR ALL OF THE SAD PEOPLE WHO WOULD HAVE TO HEAR THIS SONG. SHE CRIED FOR ALL THOSE WHO WOULDN'T. THE PAIN AND FEAR SHE WAS FEELING, IT MADE HER CRY OUT INTO THE DARKNESS. IT MADE HER HURT. HER HEART THROBBED. HER HEAD THROBBED. SHE KNEW THE PAIN WAS IMAGINED. SHE KNEW THE NOTES WEREN'T REAL SHOTS AND SLASHES ACROSS HER HEART. SHE KNEW THAT THE SUFFERING LYRICS WERE ONLY JUST THAT; LYRICS. SHE ACHED FOR SOMETHING TO HOLD ONTO. SHE KNEW THE REAL REASON THE WORDS HAD HURT. THEY HIT SUPRISINGLY CLOSE TO HOME. IT FELT LIKE AN INVASION. HER HEAD, HER PRIVACY. HER HEART. SHE KNEW THAT THIS WAS A COINCIDENCE. IN THAT SECOND, SHE HATED THE BOY. SHE WISHED THAT HE WAS HURTING LIKE HER. IT BROUGHT BACK MEMORIES, EVEN ONES THAT HURT BUT DIDN'T MAKE SENSE. IT BROUGHT BACK ALL OF THE SADNESS SHE HAD LIVED. SHE THOUGHT ABOUT THE BOY. SHE HOPED HE WAS FEELING THE SAME WAY. SHE HOPED HE WAS HURTING, TOO. SHE PAUSED THE SONG, AND SAT UP. HER SHIRT WAS WET. HER PILLOW WAS WET. HER FACE WAS WET. HER NOSE WAS WET. HER EYES WERE WET. HER HEART FELT WET, LIKE A WATERLOGGED SPONGE. SHE SHOULD STOP. YELL AT THE BOY, ALMOST. SHE COULDN'T, THOUGH. SHE KNEW WHY SHE WAS HEARING THIS. HER LIFE SEEMED COMPROMISED OF ACTIONS; SHE WANTED EMOTIONS. SHE WAS PRETENDING AT LIFE, NOT EXPERIENCING. SHE WAS SITTING THERE. THE MUSIC WASN'T. IT TOOK HER PLACES, AND TO PEOPLE. BROUGHT HER TO AMAZING HEIGHTS, AND LED HER TO EXPLORE THE GREATEST DEPTHS. SHE NO LONGER CRYED, BUT MURMURED AND MUMBLED MESSY WORDS. THEY SEEMED RIGHT INSIDE, BUT THE AIR. THE AIR ON THE OUTSIDE. IT WAS TOO TIGHT, TOO NORMAL.TOO UNFORGIVING. TOO UNACCEPTING. TOO...DECIEVING. THE APOLOGIES THAT SHE REMEMBERED JUST FLOATED AWAY. THE LAUGHTER AND THE SMILES, THEY FLOATED AWAY TOO. THE AIR. IT NEVER ANCHORED ANYTHING. ONLY THE MUSIC DID. SHE HESITATED, BUT CLICKED THE LITTLE CIRCLE BUTTON. SHE KNEW THE MUSIC WASN'T GOOD FOR HER. IT REMINDED HER OF THE LEECHES THE BOY HAD TOLD HER ABOUT, THAT HE HAD SEEN IN A MOVIE. THEY SUCKED ABOUT EVERYTHING INSIDE OF THE HOST, WHILE THEIR VICTIM WAS PLEASENTLY IGNORANT OF ITS MURDER. WAS IT LIKE THAT, THEN? WAS SHE BOUND TO BE KILLED BY MUSIC? PAPER AND LETTERS COULDN'T KILL. AND BESIDES. IT WAS ONE SONG. ONE SONG, IN A WORLD OF MILLIONS. IF SHE TRIED, SHE COULD NEVER HEAR IT AGAIN. IT WOULD BE EASY. IT WASN'T ON THE RADIO. IT WAS HARD TO FIND ON THE INTERNET. SHE COULD RETURN TO HER USUAL PICKS, WITH THEIR LIFELESS BEATS AND UNRELATABLE STANZAS. BUT THESE NOTES HAD TOUCHED HER, IN A SPECIAL WAY. IT WAS AN OPIATE TO NORMAL LIFE. AN ESCAPE. SHE KNEW IT COULD PLEASE HER, AND THE ONLY THING IT WAS ASKING FOR IN RETURN WAS HER OBSESSION.