By the time morning came, my mind was fried.
No sleep. No answers. No rest.
Just questions buzzing like mosquitoes under my skin.
Who was copying me?
How were they hijacking my ability?
And how did half the damn school suddenly know who I was?
I walked through the gates and felt it — the shift.
Eyes didn't just watch me anymore.
They tracked me like prey.
Some with fear.
Some with pity.
And some… with something worse.
Satisfaction.
> "He's the one who reads minds."
"I heard he blackmailed people."
"Must've finally got caught."
I tuned them out. Or tried to.
But their thoughts stabbed through the noise like nails on glass.
> "Careful. He might be listening now."
"He deserves it."
"Monster."
---
Rina found me by my locker.
Hair pulled into a messy bun, hoodie zipped to her neck, eyes fierce.
"I talked to the counselor," she said.
My stomach dropped. "What?"
She held up her phone. "I showed her the real messages. From me. Told her someone was using your face, your name."
I blinked. "And?"
She looked down. "They didn't believe me."
Of course they didn't.
> "Two kids trying to cover each other's lies." "He probably threatened her too."
Even the truth sounded like a lie now.
---
Then, it happened.
A voice — not one I was used to.
It cut through the noise like a razor.
> "Let's play a game, Arman. I'll give you ten minutes to find me. Or I drop everything."
I froze.
Rina grabbed my wrist. "What is it?"
I didn't answer.
I just ran.
---
The thoughts started flooding in — not from the students — but from one mind. One signal.
> "Left hallway. Wrong move." "She's following you. Cute." "Nine minutes."
I turned corners like a hunted dog.
Whoever this was… they weren't just hijacking thoughts.
They were sending them.
Like a beacon — pushing their voice into my head.
Reverse Thought Broker.
I finally skidded to a stop outside the AV room.
The voice was stronger here.
> "Ding ding. Time's up."
The door clicked open on its own.
---
Inside, a projector played grainy footage.
Me. Or at least… someone who looked like me.
Black hoodie. My profile. My voice.
> "Meet me behind the school after class. Or your secrets go public."
I felt Rina freeze behind me.
"That's not you," she whispered.
But it looked like me.
Sounded like me.
Deepfake?
Or worse…
Thought-fake?
I scanned the room. A laptop sat in the corner, a webcam still warm.
Next to it — a note.
Written in sharp block letters.
> "Welcome to Level 3.
Identity is a fragile illusion."
Then below, in smaller script:
> "She believes in you.
How long until she stops?"
---
I picked up the laptop and smashed it.
Plastic flew.
It didn't make me feel better.
Rina flinched. "You okay?"
"No."
> "Let's see how long you last, Thought Broker."
---
Later that night, I sat in bed, headphones on, trying to drown the voices.
But one came through anyway.
Rina's.
Not a thought — a message.
> "I don't care what they say. I know you. The real you. Don't shut me out."
I didn't reply.
Not because I didn't want to.
But because I didn't trust myself.
If someone else could hijack my voice…
Maybe I couldn't trust it either.
---
In the darkness, a thought came.
One I knew wasn't mine.
> "What happens when the liar tells the truth?"
"Who do they believe?"
"You… or me?"
---
To Be Continued…
---