Beep. Beep. Beep.
The rhythmic tone of the heart monitor was the only thing tethering Nimra to the world of the living.
Her eyelids fluttered open like torn paper in a storm. The sterile white ceiling above her looked like a canvas smeared with nightmares. She blinked, but the ceiling remained—the voices didn't.
For now.
"She's awake!"
A woman's voice cried out, trembling with emotion. Nimra turned her head slowly, her neck stiff and aching.
Her mother.
Tears streaked down her cheeks as she leaned over the hospital bed, clutching Nimra's hand like a lifeline.
"Three days, Nimra… you were gone for three whole days. Where were you? What happened?"
Gone? Her mind raced. Three days? But for her, it felt like only hours had passed since she escaped the Archive.
The screaming door. The cursed screens. The cloaked figure.
Faizan...
The name jolted through her like electricity.
"Where's Faizan?" she croaked, her throat dry and raw.
Her mother hesitated. "He's... missing."
Nimra tried to sit up, but pain coiled through her ribs like barbed wire.
"No… he was with me. I saw him. We—"
"Beta, there was no one with you when they found you."
"You were lying unconscious in the middle of Hillgrave Cemetery."
Cemetery.
Of course. The final resting place for souls the app had consumed.
"You were talking in your sleep," the nurse said quietly from the corner.
"Screaming names. And one word…"
Nimra turned toward her slowly. "What word?"
The nurse's eyes flicked toward the heart monitor. "VoxSoul."
A silence fell over the room like a dark cloud.
That Night
The hospital room was dark, save for the red LED on the monitor and the moonlight slicing through the blinds.
Nimra lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
Faizan is missing.
The app is still out there.
And I'm next.
She turned her head toward the nightstand. Her phone was lying there—off.
Or… was it?
Suddenly, it vibrated.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
Tiiing!
"New confession uploaded. Playback will begin shortly."
Her blood ran cold.
She hadn't installed the app again.
She hadn't even touched her phone.
It vibrated again.
"You survived Judgment Layer 0."
"Welcome to Broadcast Mode."
Nimra's voice trembled. "What the hell is Broadcast Mode?"
Then her phone lit up.
[LIVE BROADCAST: 01:59 AM | LOCATION: BLOCK 17, ROOM 302]
[SPEAKER: FATIMA Y.]
[STATUS: GUILTY]
An image appeared. A grainy, black-and-white surveillance-style feed of a girl, around seventeen, standing in a dark bathroom.
She was talking to herself in the mirror.
"I didn't mean to poison her," Fatima whispered.
"I just wanted her to stop taking everything from me…"
Then—
"AAAAAHHHHH!"
The girl screamed, clutching her throat, blood foaming from her mouth.
Nimra watched in frozen horror as the girl dropped dead on the screen.
[SPEAKER TERMINATED]
[NEXT TARGET WILL BE SELECTED IN 23:59:59]
Nimra threw the phone across the room.
It didn't break.
It just… laughed.
A warped, metallic chuckle echoed from the speaker.
"Hehehe… welcome back, Nimra."
Morning
The news was all over the hospital's shared television.
"Seventeen-Year-Old Girl Found Dead in Apartment Bathroom — No Sign of Forced Entry."
"Sources say her last call was placed to a blocked number. Neighbors reported a scream, followed by silence."
"Investigators are stumped."
Nimra clenched her fists. It wasn't a coincidence.
Broadcast Mode was using her phone to witness others die.
"Why me? Why now?"
Her phone buzzed again.
[1 New Broadcast Notification]
She picked it up.
This time, the screen showed her own face.
[LIVE BROADCAST PENDING – SUBJECT: NIMRA M.]
No time.
No countdown.
Just one message:
"A visitor will arrive at 3:00 AM. Let them in."
2:58 AM
She sat in the hospital bed, wide-eyed, drenched in sweat.
The hallway lights outside flickered. Machines beeped slower. Time bent around her.
Then—
Knock. Knock.
Her door creaked open slowly.
A man stepped in. Dressed in a janitor's uniform, pushing a cart.
But his face...
She'd seen him before.
Aariz. CipherVox.
The app's creator.
"You remember me," he said, smiling weakly.
"I do," Nimra replied, her voice ice.
"Then you know I didn't mean for this to happen."
She stood slowly. "You created a death app. You meant every line of code."
"I created a truth app," he said. "The killing part… that came from somewhere else."
"What do you mean?"
He turned, locking the door behind him.
"I coded VoxSoul's base to collect anonymous confessions. That's it. No murders. No ghosts. Nothing supernatural."
"But then… something infected it."
"A voice. A virus. Something that calls itself The Listener."
Nimra felt a chill in her bones. "The cloaked figure…"
Aariz nodded.
"It isn't human. It feeds off confessions. Guilt. Regret. Pain."
"It uses the app as a gateway."
"And now, it's trying to break into the real world permanently."
Nimra clenched her jaw. "Why come to me?"
He paused. Then pulled something from his pocket.
A small, glowing red SIM card.
"Because you survived Judgment Layer 0. That means you're not just a user."
"You're a transmitter."
"And VoxSoul's next update… will be through you."
The Choice
He placed the SIM card on her palm.
"You have two choices," he said.
"Destroy this… and let the app crawl elsewhere."
"Or insert it… and dive into Layer 1."
"Where you might be able to shut the system down from inside."
Nimra looked at the card. It was warm. Pulsing like a heartbeat.
"If I go in… can I bring Faizan back?"
Aariz didn't answer. He simply stepped back into the shadows.
Knock-knock.
Another sound.
But this time… from inside her phone.
It vibrated.
Lit up.
"TIME'S UP."
"CHOOSE."
Nimra took a deep breath.
And inserted the SIM.
Booting into Layer 1
Her body jerked backward.
The hospital dissolved.
The beeping stopped.
She was falling—through static, through layers of code, through screams.
"AAAAHHHH!"
"CONFESS!"
"YOU CAN'T HIDE ANYMORE!"
Then—darkness.
Silence.
And… a voice.
"Welcome, Transmitter Nimra."
"This is Layer 1: Soul Circuit."
"Let the cleansing begin."
To Be Continued...