Drone

The morning had already been rough. She had woken up late; the alarm had gone off twice, and she had hit snooze both times, clinging to the warmth of the bed as if it could protect her from the world outside. The place where Mark should have been was empty, the coldness of his absence an immediate reminder of her loneliness. She’d sighed at the empty space beside her, reaching out as if to will him back into the bed. But he was gone. As he always was. Early mornings were his domain, the time when he would leave for work and she would be left to navigate the quiet of their

Rachel rolled over, squinting at the time on her phone. She grumbled and snoozed the alarm again, then slid out of bed, shivering against the cold air that greeted her. The chill made her body protest every step she took, her joints creaking in ways that seemed too familiar. The dull throb of her back and the ache in her ankles were a constant

She dragged herself into the kitchen, her body moving almost mechanically as she went through the motions of making coffee. Her fingers brushed the cabinet handles, the metallic sound of them filling the silence of the apartment. Everything felt distant, like she was floating, detached from the reality around her. The buzzing noise was still there, but it was faint, like the hum of an old refrigerator.

Rachel sighed, rubbing her eyes, and reached for the off-brand K-cup she’d been using for weeks now. As she opened the coffee machine, the buzzing grew louder. It wasn’t the coffee machine—it was something else, something closer. Her hand trembled as she placed the K-cup inside. The machine began to whirr, and the sound of it was distorted, like the

She turned around quickly, her breath catching in her throat. Her pulse quickened, her skin prickling as if someone had just stepped into the room. But there was no one there. Her heart raced as she scanned the kitchen. The apartment was empty, save for her and the faint, erratic hum that still echoed in her chest. She stared at the door to the living room, eyes darting over every inch, her mind fra

Nothing. The apartment was quiet. Just her, the coffee machine, and the increasingly loud buzzing.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. It was just her mind playing tricks. Maybe she hadn’t gotten enough sleep. The lower dose of her medication had been messing with her. The psychiatrist had warned her about that. Lowering the dose of her ziprasidone had been a gamble, and her brain wasn’t handling the change well. But she was used to the weird feelings—the paranoia, the auditory hallucinations. It was nothing new. She was fine. She was fine.

Her fingers shook as she poured creamer into her cup, the motion mechanical. The buzzing still persisted, now a steady drone, echoing in the background like a distant storm. She shook her head and tried to ignore it as she crossed the apartment to her office. She needed to work. Focus on the task at hand. It would be okay.

As she sat down at her desk, she opened her work files, trying to push the drone out of her mind. Her job was simple enough—remote billing for a telehealth company. Medical billing was a nightmare for most, but for Rachel, it was strangely soothing. It was like a puzzle, one that demanded her full attention and kept her mind busy. She could focus on numbers and forms for hours, and when she did, the world outside faded away. The buzzing faded too.

But today, it wouldn’t go away.

She opened the first batch of claims. Red rejection notices. Standard procedure. It was an issue with a clinician’s NPI number, most likely. She sent an email to the clinician, asking for clarification. The drone seemed to hover just outside her office door. She turned up the music, the familiar tunes of a playlist she’d made for days like this. Music always helped her focus.

But the drone wasn’t going anywhere. It was becoming harder to ignore, more insistent.

Rachel shifted in her seat, unease creeping into her mind. The more she focused on the paperwork, the more the buzzing filled her ears. She tried to concentrate, but the hum seemed to reverberate in her chest now, making it difficult to breathe. Something was wrong. The drone wasn’t just a noise—it was inside her, inside her bones, inside her lungs.

Her computer flickered. The screen went black.

Rachel jumped, startled. Her reflection stared back at her from the dark monitor. She blinked, confused, her heart hammering in her chest. The drone had stopped. For a moment, she felt a sense of relief, but it was fleeting. The silence was almost worse.

She glanced toward the door, then back at her reflection. Her own face seemed alien, like it wasn’t really hers. She turned her chair, half-expecting to find someone standing behind her. But there was nothing. The room was empty, still.

Her hand hovered over the mouse, trying to wake the screen. Nothing happened.

Rachel’s heart raced. The sound came back—the drone, louder now, and closer.

Was it real?

Her breath hitched in her throat. Was the apartment haunted? Was there someone in the building? Or was she... hallucinating?

She stood up abruptly, pushing her chair back with a loud scrape. Her body shook, her legs trembling as she backed away from the desk. Her fingers grazed the doorframe as she passed, and she quickly locked the office door behind her, just to be safe.

But the drone was still there, buzzing in the background, filling her head with noise. It was inside her mind.

She grabbed her phone, her fingers numb. Mark wasn’t due home for hours, and texting him wouldn’t help. He wouldn’t understand. He couldn’t. She didn’t even know how to explain what was happening.

Lunch came, but Rachel couldn’t eat. The microwave hummed as she heated leftovers, and she felt a strange cold creeping over her skin. The drone was still there, still present, whispering at the edges of her awareness. She couldn’t shake it. She couldn’t escape it.

It was real. The fear was real. The thing was coming for her. She could feel it.

The microwave beeped.

Rachel jumped, dropping her plastic container of pasta onto the counter. Her breath was ragged as she fought back the panic threatening to consume her. She couldn’t explain it. She couldn’t even breathe. Was this really happening? Or was it all in her mind?

Tears blurred her vision as she sank to the floor. She was losing it. She was losing herself again. The world around her seemed to distort and twist, and the drone became deafening. It filled the space.

“Rachel?” Mark’s voice pierced through the chaos. She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. He was home. He was supposed to be at work.

“Rachel, it’s okay. You’re okay. Can you open your eyes?” Mark knelt beside her, his voice steady, his presence a comfort even through her fog of fear.

She opened her eyes. He was there, alive, unharmed. The door to the office was wide open, the apartment quiet again. The drone had stopped.

But had it ever really been there?