The Wrong Person

I wake up and check my phone. It’s seven thirty on a Saturday morning. I can’t really remember what happened last night. All I do remember is someone placing me into bed. While I am thinking of it, that seems kind of odd that someone would tuck me into bed.

However, I don’t think much about it and I go text my roommate if she wants to go get some coffee. She doesn’t respond for a while, so I figure out that she’s probably still sleeping. I go about my day, showering before going out, getting my coffee, going on my daily walk before I head to work on SATURDAY. Who even clocks in on Saturday??

I go get my coffee from Starbucks. A caramel iced latte always does it for me. Now, I have to start walking to work. I hate my job. Like what do you mean I just have to sit and write all day? It’s no fun at all.

I get to work and then check my phone. I remember I had texted Jenna early to get coffee, but I still hadn’t go a response from her. This is weird because she’s usually up by now, but I figure she just went to sleep late so she was going to sleep in. I’ll just check up on her when I get back home. I still feel that something is off. So, I call her phone. No answer. I find that odd so I go check her location. It’s not updating, but it was last seen at home around 1 am. I figure she’s just turned off her phone, so she doesn’t hear notifications while she’s sleeping.

Something still doesn’t feel right. I try my best to remember what happened last night but I can’t. It’s like my whole memory has been wiped. But, there’s one odd detail that I can’t quite make sense of. I woke up with red stuff all over me. It couldn’t have been blood. Or could it? It didn’t feel like blood when I washed it off during my shower this morning. But maybe I was still tired from my sleep to notice or feel anything? My mind is scrambling for answers right now.

That’s when I get the phone call. From 911.