She awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of tapping. Frightened, she grabbed a pistol out of her nightstand and went to investigate. She searched the entire house, but couldn't find the source of it. It was a light tapping, like a fingernail softly tapping on a glass pitcher. And no matter where she went, it followed her. With each room she entered, it persisted. Tap. Tap. Tap. A steady, constant rhythm that drove itself deep within the recesses of her mind, until it overwhelmed and drove out every other sound. Tap. Tap. Tap. The noise grew louder inside her mind.
Driven mad by the incessant sound, she did all she could to block it out. She put on a record and turned the volume up as loud as it would go, but the noise only grew with the music. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was too much for her to bear. She found a pair of earplugs and jammed them in her ears, but it was no use. The tapping continued to grow louder. And louder. And louder, until she felt her head would explode.
The sound had evolved from tapping on glass to whacking a desk with a meter stick. Over. And over. And over. Whack. Whack. Whack. She was desperate for relief. She tried to concentrate on something else, but the noise interrupted her thoughts, scattering them before they could even properly form. She yanked out the earplugs and cupped her hands over her ears and felt a pop as her eardrums burst. Blood pooled in her hands, but she felt no pain. Whack. Whack. Whack. The noise was still there. Her throat felt raw and she realized that she'd been screaming. She felt something heavy in her hand and looked down. The pistol. She had neither remembered putting it down nor picking it back up. Terrified and desperate for silence, she held the gun to her head. The noise persisted.
Whack. Whack. Whack.
BANG!
And then silence. Silence at last.
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