Looks like you’re using a new device. Please verify your identity with the following security questions.
Ugh. I hated answering those questions. I resentfully clicked “OK.”
What was the name of your childhood best friend?
My hands hovered over the keyboard. Two people came to mind—Michael Dobrevsky and Drew Suresh. I hadn’t talked to them in years, but considered them best friends back then. I couldn’t remember which I’d entered when I made the account, so I started with Michael.
Incorrect Answer.
This is why I hate these questions. Worse than a password. I typed in Drew.
Incorrect Answer.
I tried first and last names. Nicknames. Last names only. Every time, the same message popped up: Incorrect Answer. I sat there, confused, staring at the screen. Skip this question, I clicked, finally.
But the next question had me even more confused.
What was the name of your high school?
Franklin High, I entered.
Incorrect Answer.
What? Frowning, I entered Franklin High School. Franklin Township High School. Every permutation of “Franklin” and “High School” I could think of. Anything that it could possibly be. But each time, those two words popped up, burning into my brain. Incorrect Answer.
Skip this question, I clicked, and the next question popped up.
Do you remember now, David?
I jolted back from the screen. What the hell? My heart pounded and I suddenly felt dizzy. Faint. I wiped at my face, feeling the walls closing in.
Then I blinked.
No. That’s not what it said. I misread it. I reread the sentence:
Did you receive a text just now, David?
We’re going to try to verify your account a different way. Enter the verification code we sent to (XXX)-XXX-1539…
Everything is fine. I picked up my phone and began tapping at the screen—then jerked my fingers back. What is that? Something wet and dark coated the glass, sticking to my fingertips.
I wiped the phone off on my shirt, grimacing, and opened the text. Fingers shaking, I slowly entered the code into the site.
Thank you, David. You’re all set!
I stood up, stretched, and walked towards the kitchen. I needed a drink after all this. After rummaging in the pantry for a few minutes, I pulled out a bottle of Jim Beam and poured myself a shot.
As I tipped my head back to drain it, I saw the blood.
So much blood, pooling out from something unseen in the family room. My heart beat painfully in my chest as I crept forward.
A body. Face down.
His jean pocket was turned inside-out, and strewn across the carpet were his wallet, his keys. No phone. Trembling, I reached for the wallet and pulled out a driver’s license.
The first name jumped out at me.
DAVID
I reached into my own pocket and pulled out my wallet. But I already knew the truth, now. I wasn’t David.
I never was.
I glanced over at my laptop, and his phone, sitting next to it. The bank’s account homepage, filling the screen, showing thousands of dollars ready to be transferred.
I’d done this.
I remembered, now.