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Losing Time


I've been having blackouts for almost a year now, but no one seems to notice.

The first time was at the 16th birthday party my family threw for my cousin, Adam. His dad got him a DVD of a horror movie he loved, and we decided to watch it since only Adam had seen it before. I was really looking forward to watching the movie, but then I fell asleep just when it was getting started.

When I woke up, the end credits were rolling. Everyone was talking about their favorite parts of the movie. "Dennis was more into it than any of us," Adam said about me, and at the time I assumed it was a joke.

For a while, I thought I was just falling asleep at strange times. Then, in a geography class, I blacked out like I always did. When I woke up, however, I looked down to see a page full of notes on the lesson, all in my handwriting. It was like I wasn't actually gone, just running on autopilot.

I tried to keep track of when I blacked out to see if I could figure out what could be causing it, but then I'd fall asleep and wake up to find my records missing or destroyed. I'd take notes on my arm, fall asleep, then find them scrubbed away. Something was trying to stop me from understanding it. I could feel myself losing grip on reality, and I didn't think anyone would believe me.

Eventually I figured it out. The pattern was both simple and cruel: anything that felt refreshing was being taken away from me. Anything that relaxed and recharged me was being stolen. I would get the physical benefits of downtime, but not the experience. My stomach would be full after a blackout, but I didn't get to enjoy the meal. It made life miserable.

Yesterday, I finally broke down and told Adam everything while I was at his house. We were hanging out while our parents were at the movies, and when he asked me if something was wrong I just lost it. I told him that I was having a breakdown, and he offered to help.

Adam called our parents, but none of them answered. We knew what theater our parents were at, so we decided to take the bus there and tell our parents what was going on.

We took our seats on the bus and Adam put a hand on my shoulder. "We'll figure this out, Dennis. Don't worry." I was so relieved I could barely hold back my tears. I finally reached out for help, and someone was there for me.

Then I closed my eyes, just for a moment, and he was gone. I was on a bus, but it wasn't the same one. I was the only passenger. I looked down at my arm and saw something written on it, in my own handwriting:

They'll never find him. Don't make me do that again.

---
Credits

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