I’d started listening to it at the behest of my yoga teacher. She knew I struggled with anxiety and this was supposed to “bring light and calm to my inner space.”

“It’s like an auditory Valium! Seriously. SO so soothing, girl. It just taps into something in the brain. You’re doing it- okay? I’ll send you a promo code for a free month!”

It’s not like I’d never heard of white noise, or pink noise, or whatever-the-fuck, all the colors of the rainbow noise. I’d tried listening to it before but I got bored and turned on Loretta Lynn instead.

But this- THIS app- was supposed to be different. And pink noise was going to change my life.

I relented and thanked her for the free month before heading home.

I took a bath and tried to decompress. I was anxious. Jumpy. Somewhere between “vague unease” and a panic attack. What else was new. My phone dinged. Yoga teacher.

“Have u tried it yet? Thoughts??”

The pink noise thing. Fuck it. Why not.

I downloaded the app and chose my noise color. I pressed play and closed my eyes.

It was fine. Nice. Old school television static meets a heavy downpour. I sat with it for a while. Without noticing, I had unclenched my jaw and was breathing slower, deeper. I kept it playing as I got out of the tub and ready for bed.

An hour later, cozy and settled, I was officially on board the pink noise train. I lay there, snugly wrapped in my favorite blanket like a giant swaddled hot dog baby, and let the ambient static rainfall woosh me to sleep. Darkness.

I woke with a start. An electric jolt ran through my body, like there was someplace I needed to be or something important I was supposed to be doing. I checked my phone. 1:30am. Ambient noise flooded my room. Had it always been this loud? And then, a faint whisper:

“Go.”

I swear to God, I heard it. A voice in the noise.

“Go now.”

The hair on my arms stood up. I couldn’t move. “I’m asleep. I’m sleeping. This is a dream.” I repeated the words like a mantra. Silence in the noise. There was no voice. Just the steady, static “woosh.” I exhaled. Minds play tricks when it’s late at night.

“He’s almost here.”

The whisper sounded more strained, urgent.

“NO TIME.”

My arms and legs went numb. Terror surged through my veins and intensified with every beat of my heart. And then, at once a whisper and a scream:

“OUT!”

“OUT!”

“OUT!”

I shot out of bed, survival mode and adrenaline propelling me forward. Like any good millennial, otherworldly voice screaming at me to “GO!!” or not, I remembered my phone. I ran down the stairs, through my kitchen, grabbing my keys off the hook by the garage door. That’s when I saw it. A figure standing, silent and still, in the doorway leading to the back patio. The sliding door wide open. A man. “Him.” He was inside. He held something shiny in his hand. All the air left the room. All I heard was pink noise and the voice:

“GET OUT!”

So I did. I flung open the door and ran to my car. Locked the doors. Fled and called the police. I met them at the station and gave my statement. I omitted the part where I was saved by a ghost in my white noise app.

They searched my home and the woods around my property. They found shoe prints. The M.O. and the prints matched a serial predator who targeted women in my area. He’d killed the woman before me. Another ninety seconds, and I would have joined her. They found the guy that night, walking along a busy highway. Drivers called it in. He was holding something shiny in his hand.

I can’t fall asleep anymore without my pink noise. And I know that whatever, whoever, abides watchfully in the color-coded frequencies, I am safe, and I am loved.