THE TEACHER’S WHISPERS

I always know when something is going to go wrong. It’s not a feeling. It’s not anxiety. It’s not even intuition the way people talk about it. It’s more like… the world hesitates before it happens. As though reality pauses for a breath, waiting for me to think. Then it obeys. I didn’t always notice it. Not when I was younger, not when everything was loud and fast and full of color. Maybe I was too distracted, or maybe the ability hadn’t woken up yet. Or maybe, as he likes to say..I wasn’t “ready.” I didn’t hear him back then. Not the way I do now. But this morning, the whisper started before I even opened my eyes. Wake up, Christian. My chest tightened. I hated when he woke me before my alarm. It always meant something was about to happen, something I wasn’t prepared for. I kept my eyes closed, breathing slowly, hoping the voice would fade. It didn’t. You’re thinking too loudly. Always calm. Always patient. You’ll drown yourself if you keep doing that. I swallowed. “Go away,” I whispered without opening my eyes. You don’t want that. He wasn’t wrong. I hated that he was never wrong. I sat up, rubbing my face, pushing my curls out of my eyes. My room was dim, light leaking through the blinds in soft strips. The old fan hummed overhead. Everything looked painfully normal. Which meant it wouldn’t stay that way. You should get up now, he murmured. “Why?” Because you’re late. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. 9:14 AM. Class started at 9:00. “Shit.” I jumped out of bed, nearly tripping over a pile of hoodies on the floor. I grabbed the first clean(ish) shirt I could find, pulled on jeans, brushed my teeth in a frantic 20 seconds, and headed toward the front door. Belle was already in the living room, legs crossed on the couch, scrolling through her phone with a dramatic sigh every few seconds. Her pink braids were tied up messily, and she wore Jerr’s oversized varsity jacket. She liked stealing clothes from every man in the house for reasons only she understood. “You look dead,” she said without looking up. “Morning to you too.” “Where you going?” “Class. I overslept.” She raised a brow. “Again? Jerr’s gonna yell.” “He’s not my dad.” “Yeah, but he acts like it sometimes.” I grabbed my backpack. “Has Abel left yet?” “Yep. Like 30 minutes ago. He said something weird this morning though.” I paused. “What kind of weird?” She shrugged. “He said he felt like someone was watching us last night.” My heart dropped a tiny, instinctual lurch. He sees more than you think, the Teacher whispered. “Which direction?” I asked, my voice low. Belle blinked. “Christian, relax. Abel’s always paranoid. It was probably nothing.” Probably nothing. Those words were always the beginning of something. I forced a smile I wasn’t feeling. “Alright. I’m heading out.” Belle squinted at me. “You good?” “Always.” Lie. I stepped outside into the crisp morning air. The sky was overcast. Not unusual, but a heaviness lingered, like the clouds were studying me. I locked the door behind me, slid my earphones in, and started walking down the cracked sidewalk. Halfway down the block, The Teacher spoke again. You should call Jeremiah. “Not now.” He’s already thinking about you. “He does that a lot.” He’s worried. I stopped. “About what?” A slow silence stretched. Not empty, but intentional, like he was choosing his words. You know what. I hated when he did that. When he dangled half-answers in front of me like bait. My thoughts flicked, unintentionally, toward Jerry, his deep voice, the way he always smelled like cedarwood and peppermint chapstick, the way he kissed my forehead when he thought I was pretending to be asleep. Before I could stop it, my mind formed a picture of him. And then, as always.. Reality moved. My phone vibrated in my pocket. Jerr. I froze. “Stop,” I muttered under my breath. “Don’t do that.” It wasn’t me, The Teacher said smoothly. You thought, and the world listened. My fingers trembled slightly as I answered. “Hey.” “Chris?” Jerr’s voice was low, rough with concern. “You okay?” “I’m fine.” “No you’re not. You’re breathing fast.” I rolled my eyes. “Maybe I’m.. I don’t know.. walking?” “Don’t get smart.” I could hear the smile under his words, but it didn’t reach his tone. “Talk to me.” The sidewalk stretched long and empty. A stray dog slept under the shade of a dented mailbox. A few cars rolled lazily through the intersection. But something felt… off. Like a hum in the air. A vibration under my skin. “I’m okay,” I said quietly. “Just, rough morning.” “Nightmares again?” “Something like that.” He exhaled, the sound warm even through the phone. “Come over after class. We’ll talk, yeah?” “I’ll try.” “Try harder.” I smiled despite myself. “Bossy.” “You love it.” “I tolerate it.” He laughed. A short, warm sound. “I’ll see you later.” When I hung up, the world felt a little steadier. Jerr always did that. He grounded me. Which was ironic, considering he had no idea what was truly happening to me. Or what lived inside my head. He’s good for you, The Teacher said. But he makes you weak. “No,” I muttered firmly. “He makes me human.” Exactly. His tone darkened, disappointed, almost cold. I walked faster. My classroom in the humanities building was nearly full when I slipped in through the back. The professor glanced at me but didn’t bother commenting. I sat at the far corner, keeping my head low. “Morning,” someone whispered next to me. I turned, a girl I’d never seen before. She had soft brown eyes, dark curls, and a notebook covered in chaotic doodles. She smiled like she knew me. I didn’t smile back. She’s watching you, The Teacher murmured. “Shut up,” I whispered under my breath, pretending to adjust my earphone. Her eyebrow lifted slightly, like she heard me. The professor began lecturing about cognitive patterns and human intuition. How the brain processes signals before conscious thought. How instinct is a form of perception we don’t fully understand. My stomach twisted. My fingers twitched. Something inside me woke up. A thought, sharp, unintentional. Flared through my mind as I glanced at the professor’s heavy coffee mug on the podium. What if it fell? I didn’t mean it. I didn’t want it. But the thought existed. And that was enough. The entire room seemed to pause. Freeze-frame. The mug trembled. Then it slid off the podium and shattered on the floor. Students gasped. The professor cursed. Everyone leaned forward. I stared at my hands. “No,” I whispered. “No, no, no. Not again.” You see? The Teacher said gently. You think. The world answers. My breath shook violently. I grabbed my bag. I had to get out of there. I pushed past the girl beside me. She didn’t flinch, she only watched me with an unsettling calm. As I reached the door, The Teacher’s voice brushed my ear like a cold finger. Someone followed you here. My blood froze. “Who?” His answer slid through me like smoke. Don’t turn around. I didn’t turn around. When The Teacher uses that tone.. the soft one, the one that makes the air feel thin, it means the danger isn’t hypothetical. It means something is close enough to touch me. “Who followed me?” I whispered. Don’t speak out loud. His voice tightened, sharper now, like a pulled thread. Walk. Slowly. Don’t run. So I did. My legs wanted to bolt, but I forced myself to walk with steady, even steps. The hallway stretched ahead, fluorescent lights buzzing with that faint electric hum that always gave me headaches. Another whisper from him. Left. I turned left. Down the stairs. Don’t look back. Footsteps echoed above me. Not the frantic sort from students leaving class. Not the heavy, tired kind of professors. These steps were… measured. Intentional. Like a predator deciding whether it wanted to pounce. My heart slammed against my ribs. The Teacher’s voice softened to a whisper. Good. Keep moving. I swallowed. “What do they want with me?” They felt what you did in that room. “The mug?” Reality bending draws things, Christian. You know this. I wanted to argue, to say I didn’t bend anything, that it wasn’t my fault.. but the truth was burning in my chest like a swallowed ember. It was getting harder to pretend I wasn’t doing these things. The staircase emptied into the lower hallway. Quiet. Too quiet. I reached for the exit door. A hand touched my shoulder. “Hey, Christian?” My stomach plummeted. It was the girl from class. The one with brown eyes and the doodle-covered notebook. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She shouldn’t have been able to catch up to me. I moved fast. Faster than most people ever notice. But she wasn’t even out of breath. Her fingers dug slightly into my shoulder — not hard, but firm. Like she wanted to stop me, not hurt me. “Are you okay?” she asked. Her voice was steady. Too steady. Something was wrong. “No,” I said truthfully. She smiled.. soft, knowing. “I didn’t think so.” A chill ran through my spine. I took a step back, but she didn’t let go immediately. When she finally released me, her fingers brushed my skin like she was testing something or checking something. Her eyes flicked over my face, studying me with a familiarity she shouldn’t have. “You felt it too… didn’t you?” she whispered. My breath stilled. What? “What did you say?” “The drop. The shift.” Her voice lowered to a near-whisper. “That moment when everything in the room went quiet.” My throat tightened. “You saw that?” She didn’t blink. “I feel things like that. Not like you do,.. not nearly as strong, but enough to sense when someone rewrites a moment.” My blood ran cold. My vision pulsed. Rewrite? I didn’t rewrite anything. I.. She knows too much, The Teacher whispered. “What are you?” I asked quietly. Her smile returned, smaller now. Sadder. “Someone who’s been looking for you.” The hallway lights flickered overhead. I took a step back. “Why?” “Because you’re waking up.” My heart hammered so hard I felt it in my fingertips. “What does that mean?” “It means,” she said gently, “you’re not alone. And you’re not…” The lights snapped off. Pitch black. Someone exhaled behind me.. warm, heavy, wet. Not her. Not human. The Teacher’s voice sliced through the darkness, sharp and commanding. Down. I dropped instantly. A scream tore through the hallway,… hers.