Music beats in my ears, like there is no tomorrow, and smooths my angry soul. My heart pounds with frustration and I grimace with ugly thoughts slashing in my mind. I am walking in the cool night, my hand gripping my knife, as I keep pondering the idea cycling in my mind endlessly.

Should I kill them? Plotting revenge has been on my mind ever since she cheated on me. I started to have everything I could want but she turned her back on me for this dickhead. Killing her would not be a mercy if I truly love her, but jealousy and hate flare inside me like nothing before.

I don’t mind people passing me this late of the night. Some give me strange glances with my luminous stance, stiff but determined to go somewhere. My head is bent down and a hoodie covers my tight face as I round a corner, getting closer to my destination. Is this a good idea?

My brain knocks some common sense in me as I look up at the tall house, compact with other houses. My heart yearns for punishment for what my girlfriend did, but my killing would not prolong the guilt she certainly should have.

I hear footsteps moving behind me. I think someone is just watching something else, curious that maybe a television playing in one of the upstairs loudly, or looking across the street to pass safety.

Instead, the hair on the back of my neck prickle, and I turn in time to see the dickhead that my girlfriend cheated on. I yank down my headphones to my neck, about to give him a piece of my mind, but my eyes catch everything that happens. However, my body moves too slowly to react.

The dickhead whips out his knife and his dagger slices across my neck right between my headphones, blood spraying like a water fountain. My knees buckle and I gurgle out blood. My eyes roll behind my head right as my body smashes against the cracked pavements.

I hear a roar of laughter and I don’t still know how. I thought perhaps I went to hell and Satan is laughing at my stupidity. But here I was, I could visibility see around me at a 360-degree angle. The dickhead grabs my headphones, and I feel myself being lifted and I know somehow in my deepest guts, that I am now somehow I spirit that possesses my expensive, yet favorite headphones I wore constantly.

I am not a vengeful spirit that could not let go of the past, and this was my price. To forever be stuck in these pair of headphones, feeling the vibrations in the air. I couldn’t smell anything but see. The dickhead spites on me, and I feel the warm, gooey spite on me. If I could shiver, I would’ve. He quickly runs away from the crime scene, and washes me with water and soap, getting off the blood.

Good thing these headphones were waterproof and I am surprised how they hold up as they stand through the water and soap. I feel shiny and new, and no more my blood covering my new self. The dickhead chuckles as he gets out of his house again and walks a few blocks. He drops the headphones in the trashcan.

I see him leave and I am staying in the fifth trashcan with my clean self...granted, I just had my blood on me, but still.

I don’t know how many days pass, but I think two days for I saw the sun raise and set two times. Dirty cups, trash, paper, and cigarettes were thrown in the trashcan. Then, the trashman comes and pulls out the bag. He has trouble getting the bag out and most of the trash spills out.

“Fuck!” he cursed, annoyed.

Then, I see his eyes on me.

His voice is gruff with age and he mutters, picking me up, “How this pretty thing get in here?” He examines me with interested eyes and puts them on his neck. He wrinkles up his nose but knows not to get rid of something looking so nice and clean. The old man picks up the littered trash and quickly hauls the trash away.

Time passes into late night, as he cleans me and puts me down on his desk, calling out for his wife, “Hey, honey, I found this...um, somewhere. Do you think our son will like it?”

I can tell this man isn’t poor, but not close to any time rich. Seemly, I study, and he can’t get a job anywhere else with his limp as he walks. The wife comes up and grins, “Hell ya, babe!” She plants a kiss on him, “Good job. He will love it.”

The man smiles and puts me in his desk drawer.

I don’t know how many days pass as I am set in the drawer. I hear conversations, door slamming, and barking from a dog. The drawer opens one day, as a cord drops next to me. Months fly and finally, I am plucked out from my place and wrapped in a box. I get rattled in and set back now. I don’t know how much time passes, but I think only a night passes.

I feel the vibration of laughter and some minutes later, I am picked up and I get shaken like a cocktail shaker. I hear tearing paper and the box is ripped open. I see a young teenage boy laughing with excitement, and thanking his parents.

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The night comes and he takes me to his room, hooking his phones and me to the Bluetooth. I say that his music taste isn’t bad with some classic rock and hard metal. I hear some moaning and I wish I could roll my eyes, the horny boy watching porn throughout most of his teenage years, but honestly, I don’t mind it.

Lying on his desk, I see he brought a girl in and she is a pretty blond. They talk and sit a good distance from each other. They study and eye each other. This happens frequently throughout the weeks, the happy teenager humming to the music which he didn’t do, and way less porn which I am grateful to.

His music changes slightly as his woman shows her music, which is okay. I am always watching him every single day for I am stuck in these headphones, invisibly watching wherever the boy sets me. I can never move, for I am stuck to where this object is.

One day, he drops me. Neither of us was happy about this and after some good time trying to hook up o the Bluetooth and fix me, nothing happens. The twenty boy frowns, “Damn, you have been so good to me.” He sighs, “One more time.”

I didn’t want to be tossed away and crushed with other garbage for the rest of my miserable life. I like being here. So, with all my might and wish, I feel strength from me as I click on my blue light to life.

The boy gasps, “Please work!” He puts me on his head, quickly doing the routine of hooking me up to his phone. He hits play on his long playlist and music blares loudly. I wish I could smile, but all I could give him was better audio, which he could hear. “Hey, I think your sound is even better!”

More time passed and his girl makes out, which I am happy to see for they both enjoyed each other company, and I could hear the happy sounds of their hearts.

Some more months fly away and the couple does more than just kiss. I sense that the adult was getting moody and feeling down. He kept grumbling as he set me on his head, rumbling about how his life is a misery. His job is pointless and his parents waiting for him to get out there, and so on. I agree with his parents, he needs to get others there and not stay.

Eventually, he moves out which is a blessing. After some months of settling in, his girlfriend is now a fiance, and he has a better job. The guy still grumbles about his life and how he hates that he has nothing.

I beg to disagree. He has a roof over his house, clothes on his back, food to eat, and a hot fiance who loves him to death.

Then one night, a new girl comes in. He does something I would never expect. He cheats on the new girl, who is nothing like his other girl which he said to her that he cherishes and loved. I am appalled. Loving someone is not cheating on someone else. My memory goes back to my girlfriend.

After the girl leaves, and he drenches with guilt, he slips me on his head, muttering about much better she was than his fiance.

The worse part comes. His fiance drops by and he says that he loves her and even fucks her, muttering about marriage and children. After she leaves, he complains about how wrong he felt...if you couldn’t tell, he likes to talk to himself a lot. Anyway, he bitches nonstop about how shitty his life is.

I am pissed as he ups his music, singing a depression song. I would’ve frowned if I could. Hatred for him and the lack of respect burns in my soul. He ups his music, shouting to himself that he had such a shitty life, when the opposite, he had everything he wanted.

Angry boils and I roar, not speaking in over ten years, my voice crackling over the speakers, “YOU HAD EVERYTHING! YOU FUCKING UNGRATEFUL BITCH!”

The man screams in anguish, trying to pry the headphones off, but I tighten myself hard on his head. I rumble out my rage, crackling through the speakers in an earsplitting scream. He sways his head so fast, trying to yank me off, nearly twisting his neck in the process.

I feel the familiar blood that trickles from his ears and into the speakers. My furious yelling gurgles from his blood into his ears. His eyes roll back and he fell to the ground, not moving.

I couldn’t keep thinking: That’s what you get...bitch.

The anger calms down in me. Then, I feel something strange in me. For some reason, I yank myself up. I am inside the man’s body, but it feels so wrong. Somehow I possess his body, perhaps his blood soaking into my soul had me transported into his ugly body.

The skin hisses and the blood coils inside me. I grab the headphones, knowing what I want to do. I wash out the headphones quickly, run outside, and sprint to Goodwill which this man has gone to a lot with me hung over his neck.

I would not die in this disgusting body, but live in my headphones; for my soul belong to it. It is my destiny to stay there forever.

I see a smallish boy walking to Goodwill with his mom. I went to him, the mom glaring at me. I barely respond, my lips quivering in pain, “Please, this is brand-new, just put it in Goodwill or keep it.” I hand the boy the headphones, and collapse to the ground, feeling my soul get sucked back inside the headphones.

I am back in my comfort place, feeling restful.

The mother screams and calls the cops. As she is distracted, telling the cops what happened, the boy looks down at the man's body. He didn’t rere about the dead body surprisingly. He goes to Goodwill and puts me on the counter. “A man said in his last dying breath, to have this in Goodwill.”

The register gives the boy a strange look, taking me without a word. She puts me down and goes back to her computer. After some time, right before she leaves, she spots me. The woman sighs, examining me closely. She presses her lips and stamps a fifteen-dollar stick on the top of my headphones.

I remember that my headphones cost at least one hundred dollars. So, whoever buys me, will have a sweet, cheap price and not regret my lifetime warranty.