First off, thanks for the suggestions on my last post, especially the idea to set up an email for myself to keep track of days. I can’t always get to a computer, but, in case all else fails, I’ll probably been able to use the credit card of whoever I am to buy the cheapest laptop I can find. I could also just try to sign up for a library card using whatever is in my new body’s wallet. Either way, it’s going to be annoying to register a new computer or a new self every single day. Anyway, I’m getting off track. I should update you all since the last time I posted.
It was about 6 when I posted last, so I had a bit of time before I would give in and go to sleep. I’d tried staying up all night in previous days, but I would wake up as a new person after falling asleep the next day. I didn’t go back to the station since I assumed that ghosting the cops burnt that bridge. Instead, I tried browsing the internet with any names I remembered. That kind of fell through since the ones that I did remember were the most generic ones. Adding “death” afterwards didn’t help much either. On top of that, I haven’t been paying much attention to each city I find myself in. I do know that I haven’t left the U.S. yet and that I’ve been circling around the West to Midwest regions. The unsuccessful search made me think that I should probably start keeping track of all that.
After that, I went to the gas station to stock up on Red Bulls. I considered getting a case of seven percenters as well but decided that I should be in a sober state of mind in order to start figuring out what the hell is going on. Also, the more physical side of alcohol dependency does not travel between bodies, so it wasn’t too tough to not buy a twelve pack. So, I just got the Red Bulls and a couple Pabst tallboys then headed back to the house. When I got there, I realized that this Officer Stetson could possibly have a desk with some files in it. He was 40 something so it was likely that he used paper over computers. Luckily, I was right, and after prying open some drawers in his office, I found some piles of reports, interviews, and other paperwork. Stetson seemed to be a lot more organized than I am and I was grateful to find that he sorted the documents by date. I grabbed from the beginning of March, near the date of “my” death, and everything between now and then. The first twenty or so didn’t seem to ring any bells, so I took a breather in the backyard to start drinking my Red Bulls and Pabsts while ordering a pizza. When I went back to work on the files, I finally found something interesting.
It was an interview done on April 22nd with a woman named Kaitlyn Parker. I wrote down the piece that I found in my new email.
Parker: He seemed detached that day. Even more than usual… he was acting weird all morning. When I got home from work my birthday came up. He couldn’t remember the date and acted like he couldn’t even remember the month… and that’s what started the fight.
Detective Stetson: Did this confrontation get violent?
Parker: No, I got angry, but he didn’t yell or even seem upset. Then he started talking crazy.
Detective Stetson: Talking crazy? Do you mean like incoherently?
Parker: Well, it was weird, but I think he was just trying to stop talking about our relationship like usual. He said he wasn’t my boyfriend. He made up some fake name and that he had “woken up as this guy”.
Detective Stetson: Would you elaborate on that? Had he said anything like that before during a fight?
Parker: No, I mean, he would lie every once in a while, but never that weirdly and unbelievable. He just kept insisting that he wasn’t himself. I don’t remember who he said he was, just that he wasn’t Dustin.
Detective Stetson: I’m not sure what to make of that. Did he say or do anything else that stood out?
Parker: Um, well he was just really committed to the lie for some reason. He even… I’d noticed he was holding his drinks with his right hand when I came home.
Detective Stetson: Right hand?
Parker: Dustin was left-handed.
Detective Stetson: Hm. Did anything else happen before you left?
Parker: No… I got fed up and I… I told him I had enough and that, that I didn’t want to see him again… That’s the last thing… the last thing I said to him…
After copying the interview to my email and sending it to myself, I heard a knock at the front door. I remembered my pizza and guessed that I had lost track of time when I made my discovery. I opened the front door, but no one was there. I looked around to see if the pizza was left on the floor or something but couldn’t see anything out in the darkness. I went back in to find the porch light and when I flipped it on, yeah, no pizza. I went back inside and to the desk to look through more papers. When I picked up the rest of the files for April, the interview sheet was blown off the desk. That’s when I noticed how drafty it felt in the house. I looked to the sliding back door and saw that it was wide open. I felt an awful pain at the back of my head. I saw stars and hit the ground before feeling another strike.
I woke up as a woman in one of those memory foam beds on June 1st. I instinctively grabbed the back of my head as soon as I opened my eyes but found a none-broken skull. The pain was gone, though the memory of how it felt remained. It took about five minutes of shuddering and trying to forget the sensation before I could think properly again, wondering what had happened to me “last night.” Nothing like that had happened before and I definitely prefer going to sleep between body swaps over whatever that was. I looked around the room to see if there was a husband or anyone in there with me but the unmade sheets on the other side of the bed told me they were gone. Still shuddering, I got out of bed and started looking for my new body’s purse.
I found it hanging next to the front door. After locking myself out of her phone and computer, I got the keys out of the purse and drove to a Walmart to get a new laptop. I also picked up a bottle of Barefoot to get the memory of my head trauma out of my head. A good thing about waking up as a woman is that I usually get a lower tolerance so at least there was that. I registered the laptop and started typing up an email to myself.
Laura Turner, age 34, birthday April 8, 1988. [Address] Pueblo, Colorado. 2020 Toyota Corolla [Plate Number]. Last night ended with Stetson’s head, ah man. Really hurt. Really hurt like hell.
I stopped typing and realized I should Google “Detective Darryl Stetson South Dakota.” I searched it and clicked on “News.” Missing detective, Signs of a house robbery, and similar articles filled the screen. I copied some information to the email then let myself panic. “It’s every single day isn’t it? It’s going to happen again. What do I do?” I stared straight ahead, realizing that it’s likely that I have died over thirty times. I sat with that thought for a while. “I’ve been sons, fathers, mothers, daughters, husbands, wives. I’ve been leaving holes in the lives of the families.” I snapped out of it and decided that I needed to work harder to stop this. I was thinking of how to keep myself awake as long as possible when the memory of the pain from the previous night came back. It was happening during sleep, but I was awake that time. I did not want that to happen again. That line of thinking is what gave me the idea that I wish I had thought through more.
I figured that if it happens during sleep usually, I could pretend to go to sleep and see what happens. Maybe I could catch whatever was coming for me off guard and put an end to this. It was about 1pm by that time, so an after-lunch nap at 2 seemed like a promising idea. I logged off the laptop after sending the email to myself and went to the kitchen to throw together a turkey sandwich. After eating, I looked through the drawers and found a knife. I slipped it under the pillow next to mine in the bedroom. I also took a shower curtain rod from the bedroom bathroom and stood it up against the closed door. I turned off the light, got into bed and waited.
For what felt like an hour, I laid there with only my thoughts. I tried to avoid thinking about the previous night and all the people I had been. That left me with little else. I thought about my original life. I could hardly remember what my body had felt like. Funnily enough, at this point, the easiest things to remember are times of pain. I remembered what the day I broke my arm in sixth grade felt like. I also remembered the feelings of falling off my bike or the time I came back from Texas with horrible sunburn. That made me think of my mom bringing me wet towels to lay on myself as I groaned on the balcony. I shook that line of thinking away. I’m not sure if remembering who I was is the best idea. It might be selfish, but that was even worse than thinking of all the other families I left behind. I’m going to have to weigh the pros and cons of keeping my previous life in my head. Anyway, as I was thinking through all that, I heard a door creaking. I slowly reached under the pillow, waiting to hear the curtain rod fall on the ground. My plan was to rush the door as soon as that happened. I felt around under the pillow, looking for the knife. I reached further under and touched something. Confused, I stroked the object. That’s when I realized I was stroking someone’s hand. I looked up and saw the outline of a figure throwing itself over me, and I felt the knife go through the middle of my chest. I gasped as I experienced that pain 4 more times in rapid succession. My head fell back and to the side. The last thing I saw was that the closet door was open.
I woke up clutching my chest and gasping for air. That really freaked out the girl lying next to me in bed. I just said “sorry nightmare” as I grabbed my clothes, dashed for the bathroom, and got into the shower. One good shower cry later, I left the dorm room with the keys and wallet I found in the guy’s pockets while she stared wide eyed at me. Today I’m Brandon Sterling, 21, college student at the University of Texas at Austin. I spent the day pretty much in shock and then panicking and shuddering. I got someone at the library to log me into their account. I guess I’m going to sleep tonight, I’m not trying that again. Just, what do I do after that? I need some ideas guys, I can’t keep going on like this.