I Lost My Samsung Galaxy Smartphone And Now Someone Is Pretending To Be Me Online
She was surprisingly human. Dirty, emaciated, homicidal, but human. She had a bloody kitchen knife tucked into the front of her jeans and the handle was almost solid black. I felt her weight against me release a little and I pretended to faint. The whole shebang; I rolled my eyes back, let out as much air as I had in my lungs, and went limp.
I didn’t expect her to drop me, but she did. I slumped down the wall and fell off to one side, trapping the blade between myself and the wall. I wrapped my fingers around it and listened to her pacing, muttering.
“We are Allison, both. Two Allison. One Allison. The only Allison. Can only be one Allison. I must be Allison. Me. I’m Allison.”
Her voice was getting louder as she got closer. I could feel my muscles aching with adrenaline. I heard the blade of the knife click against the button of her jeans.
I could hear her breathing over me, something dripped down onto me.
And I rolled over, screaming as I swiped the blade as hard as I could. It sliced the flesh of her legs apart right beneath her knees and she fell with a shriek. I rolled onto my stomach and crawled over her as she lay on the floor.
I pressed the sharp side of the blade against her belly and leaned over her, glaring through bleary eyes. “I. Am. Allison.” I spat in her face as I said it and she flinched as if I had hit her. “ME. ONLY ME. WHO ARE YOU?”
I was screaming by the time I was finished. The girl beneath me shook as I pressed the blade against her dirty sweatshirt.
The stairwell suddenly filled with light. It was white and blinding and I had to turn away from it, staring back down at her.
And suddenly she wasn’t so terrifying. In fact, I recognized her. I stared down into her face with my jaw hanging open as my brain tried to register the filthy face below me and where I had seen her before.
“Nous sommes des agents de police! PLEASE PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPON!”
I looked up toward the voice and slowly lowered the blade, bringing up both of my hands. “Je ne peux pas voir. Je ne vais pas lutter.” The dark blurs approached me slowly and lifted me off of the girl below, sliding cuffs on my wrists and leading me down the stairs.
The police officer escorting me opened the book-ed door to the next floor down and I heard it, so softly; a sobbing whisper. “Who am I? Who am I? Who? Am? I?”
Her name was Caroline Evrett. We went to school together. I remember her being quiet, but nice. When we went to University, we both went to the Technical School in Troyes. We were in the same study groups. We were never close, but we were friendly.
Police found evidence she had been living in storm drains around campus and found a “nest” under one of the science buildings. She had been following me for almost a year. She had my schedules written down, my friends, what languages I spoke, my preferred snacks and drinks. I got to see a lot of it, and it made me very sick. I had always considered myself so careful.