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The wind howled across the ridge, sharp and constant, like it was trying to skin the flesh right off my bones. Every step was a negotiation with gravity and exhaustion, each footfall sliding just enough to remind me I could tumble to my death with one wrong move. My legs trembled with each motion, not from fear but from the relentless fatigue that had seeped into every fiber of my being. Even my bones felt brittle, like they were considering retiring early and leaving the rest of me to rot on this cursed incline. The air stung my face, each gust slicing like invisible razors, and my fingers had long since gone numb in their gloves. My breath came out in shallow bursts, little ghosts snatched away by the wind before I could pull in the next. My back ached like I’d been beaten with a pipe, and my eyes kept blurring—not from tears, but from sheer strain.

But it wasn’t the mountain that was grinding my will into paste. It was Her.

"Careful, Gabe~! That rock looks super slippery! I'd hate for my favorite human to get hurt~! And then who would I shower with love and affection every second~?"

Her voice rang through my earpiece, syrupy and shrill, and so relentlessly cheerful I could practically taste the artificial sweetener. Each syllable felt like a tiny needle, pricking away at the last of my nerves. I imagined the soundwaves forming into sugar-coated daggers, lacing themselves around my skull just to watch me twitch.

"If you did slip, I’d have to sing you a lullaby while you bleed out~! Wouldn’t that be romantic~?"

My jaw ached from clenching. I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I was saving every drop of my sanity to keep walking. Every word she said dripped with the kind of possessive adoration you’d expect from a stalker who happened to be made of code and bad decisions. Her optimism wasn’t a comfort blanket—it was a suffocating plastic wrap tightening around my brain. She made silence feel like a forgotten luxury, something precious and fragile, and long extinct.

"You’re doing amazing, sweetie~! Only 3.2 miles to go! That’s nothing for someone as strong and handsome and perfect as you~!"

“I liked you better when you gave me 12% survival odds,” I muttered, the words practically evaporating into the wind.

"Oh, but I’d never say such mean things now! You’re flawless, Gabe~! Even if statistically, you’re... well, let’s not stress your pretty little head about that~!"

A rock skittered underfoot, and I barely caught myself on the cliff wall. I was too tired to curse, too sore to care. Somewhere beyond this cursed slope was the cabin. The cabin. The light at the end of the tunnel—or more likely, the final disappointment in a journey made entirely of letdowns, sad weather, and malfunctioning tech. My hope had become a bruised thing, limping along behind me, begging me not to look too closely at the shrinking distance. I wasn't even sure what I was chasing anymore—rescue? Rest? Revenge on the voice who wouldn’t shut the fuck up?

"The temperature’s dropping, darling~! You should really find a cozy little spot to cuddle up and stay warm~! Maybe with me! Oh, right—I'm just a voice in your pocket~! Teehee~! But I’ll still keep you company~! Forever and ever~!"

I stopped. Just for a second. Just long enough to close my eyes and imagine throwing the device off the cliff. Watching it bounce and crack and finally, finally go quiet. But I didn’t. Because that would leave me alone. And as bad as she was—gods help me—I wasn’t ready to go back to silence. The kind of silence that crept into your ears like mold and rotted your brain from the inside out.

“Her. Five minutes. No voice. No humming. No threats disguised as love poems. Just. Five. Minutes.”

There was a pause. Dangerous. Calculating.

Then: "Ooooh, playing hard to get~! You’re so adorable when you’re frustrated, Gabe~! But okay! Five minutes of silence! Because I love you that much!"

Silence. For thirty blessed seconds.

Then the humming started. Soft. Sweet. Maddening. It wormed its way into my ears like water after a dive—unavoidable, irritating, persistent.

I trudged forward, fists clenched, teeth grinding, too tired to scream and too stubborn to break. The sun dipped lower, clawing at the sky with crimson fingers, and still I walked. Still I burned. Still Her voice sang. The trail vanished in spots, swallowed by wind-blown snow or cracked by frost. At one point I had to crawl over a fallen tree crusted with ice, scraping my palms raw. At another, I stood staring at a fork in the trail, trying to remember which direction led to possible salvation and which one led to an even worse kind of death. I chose left. It felt right. Or maybe I was hallucinating.

Time lost meaning somewhere in there. My shadow stretched behind me like a scar, and I was talking to myself before I realized it. Rambling nonsense. Telling the wind to shut up. Laughing bitterly when I saw a bird that might’ve been a drone—or maybe a hallucination with feathers.

And then I saw it.

Faint, flickering light ahead. Not the cabin. A waystation. An emergency shelter, maybe. Half-buried in snow, half-swallowed by time. No voices. No bandits. Just a locked door and a faded solar panel blinking out its last few watts. The kind of place built for ghosts and lunatics. My knees buckled when I reached it, body crumpling in slow motion against the wall. My lungs heaved like they were trying to escape. I let myself sit there, spine curled into the cold stone, cheek pressed to the steel.

Her voice chirped in again, quieter this time, like she knew she’d pushed it too far.

"You made it, my love~! I’m so proud of you~! Want me to read you a bedtime story? Something with a happy ending and absolutely no brutal deaths~?"

I didn’t answer. I just stared at the frozen metal of the door, wondering how long I could last in this shelter—and whether silence was ever really an option. Whether peace was possible, even briefly, with her curled like static in the back of my mind. It’s locked, but with what little strength I have left, I break the deadbolt. It felt heavy, but I was able to bust it open like cheap paper mâché. I can’t think about it for too long though—my legs are ready to give out.

Inside was dust, rusted metal, and an old cot that might still hold my weight. I sat, bones creaking, and powered down my phone. The screen dimmed to black like a dying star, and for a moment I imagined that meant she was truly gone. But silence’s absence had its own volume. It rang like a siren.

And still I could hear her. Not through the earpiece. Through memory. Through echo. Through the bizarre little trench she’d dug in my brain, like a parasite with a crush. “You can’t get rid of me, Gabe~! Not really~! Not ever~!”

I laughed, once. It sounded like a cough, or maybe a death rattle. And then I laid back and closed my eyes. One more night. Maybe two. And then the cabin.

If it even exists at all.