He reached for his headphones, the plastic cracked and taped together, and pressed them against his ears. He didn't just turn on the music; he stepped into it.
The song faded into its haunting, melodic outro, leaving a ringing silence in his ears. He wasn't "away" yet, but as he looked out at the distant city lights, he knew he was no longer falling. He was just waiting for the right moment to fly. Korn - Falling Away From Me
He stood up, his legs shaking but holding firm. He walked to the window and pushed it open. The cool night air rushed in, smelling of rain and freedom. Downstairs, a door slammed, but for the first time, Liam didn't flinch. He reached for his headphones, the plastic cracked
As Jonathan Davis’s voice shifted from a desperate whisper to a guttural roar, the world outside the headphones began to blur. The walls of his room felt less like a cage and more like a cocoon. The song was a frantic heartbeat, a chaotic pulse that matched the frantic rhythm of a kid trying to disappear into his own skin. He wasn't "away" yet, but as he looked
Liam closed his eyes. In his mind, he wasn't in a cramped bedroom anymore. He was standing in a gray, digitized wasteland, much like the music video he’d watched on a loop. He saw the "beats"—the physical manifestations of the pain—shaking the foundations of the house. Every snare hit was a strike against the invisible hands that tried to hold him down. Every distorted chord was a shield.