My 18-Year-Old Dying Mom

I lost my memory. I remembered everyone else, but I forgot him completely. He stared at me with a stonecold face. "Who am I to you?" "My boyfriend?" I guessed tentatively.

Those two words made the gorgeous guy's eyes snap red instantly. "I'm your fucking son!" I frowned. Why did he have to swear?

Chapter 1 One second I was asleep in bed, the next I woke up in a hospital. A doctor was examining me. Behind him stood a guy.

Dropdead gorgeous, features sharp enough to cut glass, staring at me without blinking. I looked at him. He looked at me. I looked away. He kept staring.

Whose rude relative was this? I glanced around the room. Wait. It was a private suite. My relative? But I had no idea who this guy was. A sudden chill crawled up my spine.

Hospitals were prime real estate for paranormal activity. My scalp prickled at his shadowcast face. "Chloe, are you alright?" Dr. Jonathan Foster asked.

I raised a shaking finger and pointed. "There's a guy standing behind you. Can you see him?" Dead silence filled the room. "Chloe… we aren't blind," the doctor deadpanned.

The gorgeous guy lost his mind. "Chloe, what the hell is that supposed to mean?" A human. He knew me. I let out a massive breath. Thank God.

Not a ghost. "Who are you exactly?" I asked. His eyes widened. The absolute shock in his gaze made the air vibrate. "You're asking who I am?

Tell me, who am I to you?" His tone, his broken expression… it made me feel like the ultimate fuckboy who just walked out on a promise. "My boyfriend?" I threw out the guess.

Jay's eyes snapped red instantly. "Are you out of your fucking mind, Chloe? I am your son!" "Wow, zero manners. I'm your daddy!" I snapped back.

Jay looked like he was about to have a stroke. He kicked the nearest chair with brutal force. "Fuck this. I'm done!" He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Dr.

Jonathan Foster cleared his throat. "Chloe, that really is your son." "Impossible." I raised my voice. "I am in the absolute prime of my youth.

Eighteen." "You think I gave birth to a grown man?" "Eighteen?" I rolled my eyes. "Two times nine is eighteen." Math wasn't that hard.

Plus, with my flawless face, how could he even question my age? "But…" "But what?" "Chloe, you are… thirtyfour years old." Horrifying.

I woke up from a nap, lost sixteen years of my life, and gained an incredibly rude son in the transaction. A son I didn't even remember.

It felt like sinking my entire life savings into a prime cut of steak, only to watch a stray dog snatch it away. "At least I still have this face.

I can't believe thirtyfour looks this good on me." I cupped my cheeks, utterly mesmerized by my own reflection in the window glass. Absolute perfection.

I was giving pure oldmoney glamour.

Natasha rolled her eyes with practiced elegance. "Okay, you really do have amnesia." "Why?" "Because your current aesthetic is cold, untouchable ice queen.

Not delusional bimbo." I glared at her. "You're the bimbo." Natasha tossed her perfect blowout over her shoulder. "I'm a lethal siren." Gross.

I narrowed my eyes. "Wasn't your life goal to get into Harvard?

When did you pivot to Hollywood actress?" Chapter 2 "The ship of dreams sinks pretty fast," Natasha shrugged. "Besides, I am managing a fully stocked roster right now.

Smooth sailing." I stared at her, completely lost. "Fully stocked roster? What does that mean?" Natasha paused for a second. "Grownup stuff.

Don't ask." "I am thirtyfour!" I snapped. "Oh, so we aren't eighteen anymore?" she smirked. Honestly, it was still a massive pill to swallow.

My last functioning memory was crashing into bed after my final high school exams. "I really have a son?" "One hundred percent authentic.

Moneyback guarantee." Thinking about that gorgeous, aggressively angry boy who looked ready to scorch the earth, I shook my head quickly. "No, no, no. One is more than enough.

How… old is he?" I asked. "Fifteen," Natasha replied. Even though I had braced myself, I still sucked in a sharp breath. "He is fifteen. I am thirtyfour.

That means I had him when I was nineteen?

Was I going through a hardcore rebel phase?" Natasha nodded with solemn agreement. "Extremely hardcore." "Didn't my parents try to stop me?" Natasha's expression shifted.

She looked like she wanted to say something but held back. My stomach dropped. A sudden, terrifying heat pricked at the back of my eyes. "My parents… are they…" "Stop.

Don't even go there," Natasha cut me off instantly, shutting down my spiral. "They are perfectly fine and healthy." "But… when you dropped out of college to have the baby, they cut you off.

We haven't spoken to them in years." "Oh." The word slipped out, hollow and flat. A heavy wave of disappointment settled in my chest.

No wonder my first instinct hadn't been to call them when I woke up. "Any other questions?" Natasha asked.

I shifted on the bed, suddenly feeling awkward. "So, uh… where is my husband? Who is he?" "Is he hot?

Are we deeply in love?" This was the absolute most important piece of the puzzle. But Natasha just shrugged. "No idea." My brain stalled. "What do you mean, no idea?

He is my husband. The father of my child.

I didn't undergo immaculate conception!" "You will have to ask yourself that." Natasha crossed her arms. "The main reason your parents fought you so hard on this was because you absolutely refused to tell anyone who the father was." "Not even you?" Natasha and I had grown up together.

We shared everything. She was my absolute best friend in the world. I wouldn't hide something like this from her. She just shook her head. I sat there, utterly stunned.

Was I really that wild? "Want to know who the baby daddy is?" I nodded vigorously. "Then you need to dig deep. You got pregnant the summer after high school graduation.

That means it had to be someone in your immediate circle back then." My eyes lit up. "Now I'm wide awake for this!" I was just about to mentally line up every single one of my teenage crushes when the door swung open.

The dropdead gorgeous boy walked back in.

He looked at Natasha and gave a polite, subdued nod. "Aunt Tasha." Then his eyes shifted to me, instantly filling with pure, unfiltered annoyance. "Eat." I frowned. "Where are your manners?

Call me Mom." He let out a dark, mocking laugh. "I thought you were my daddy?" Right. I took a deep breath. Whatever. I wasn't going to stoop to a kid's level.

Even at eighteen, I was still older than him! "So, son.

What is your name?" He rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck in the back of his head. "Listen to the words coming out of your mouth.

Do they make any sense to you?" I matched his energy and rolled my eyes right back. I looked at Natasha. "What is my kid's name?" "Jay," she said.

I threw up two fingers in a peace sign. "Yay?" Chapter 3 "You are way too old to be acting cute," Natasha deadpanned.

Jay crossed his arms. "Do you really have amnesia?" "What else would it be?" I shot back. "An elaborate April Fools prank?" Jay furrowed his brow. "How exactly did you lose your memory?" "Right," Natasha chimed in. "I have been meaning to ask that too." I paused. "The doctor said I hit my head." Jay took a slow, deep breath. "You tripped over your own feet this morning and bumped your forehead against the sofa.

You call that hitting your head? Hard enough to cause amnesia?" I blinked, completely innocent. "Well, what do you want me to say?

The memory is gone." "When did the doctor say it would come back?" I shook my head. "He said it is basically a coin toss." Jay stared at me. Utterly deadpan.

His relentless gaze made my scalp itch. "Fine. I completely tuned out his medical jargon, okay?

It does not even matter." "Maybe some random trigger will snap it all back into place." Natasha wanted to keep me under observation for a few more days.

Jay clearly could not care less. But I wanted out. After relentless begging on my end, Natasha finally caved and drove us back to my place.

Right before she drove off, I pulled her aside. "Has my relationship with Jay always been this toxic?" Natasha nodded. "But why?" I supposedly went against the world to give birth to this kid.

Where was the unconditional maternal bond? "It basically boils down to a cringe TikTok audio." She mockpouted and pitched her voice high. "Mommy, mommy, put down the phone.

You have been scrolling for hours, I am playing alone." I stared blankly at her retreating taillights. What an absolute psychological horror of a nursery rhyme.

Stepping inside the house, I froze. A sprawling twostory penthouse. Floortoceiling windows. I was rich? Was I a literal sugar mama to myself?

I grabbed Jay before he could disappear up the stairs. "I bought this?" He ripped his arm away, visibly irritated. "Use your words. Stop grabbing me." Oh, hell no. My temper spiked.

I locked both hands around his bicep and anchored myself to his arm. "Try that again.

Let us see who has more upper body strength." Jay stared down at me with pure disdain. "How old are you? Are you five?" I opened my mouth, then shut it.

This house was a toxic environment. I needed to run away. Jay was a walking red flag of teenage angst. He could not speak without turning it into an argument.

The fact that he had survived to the age of fifteen was a testament to my incredible mercy. But he did drop a few pieces of crucial intel.

Apparently, I was a nouveau riche from property demolitions, a landlord, and a beauty influencer. Years ago, I bought a few rundown properties. I had an insane eye for the market.

I bought up cheap lots right before corporate developers swooped in with massive commercial buyouts. That was my first pot of gold.

After that, I became obsessed with acquiring real estate. Now I sat on a massive portfolio of properties, living effortlessly off the rent.

In my free time, I posted makeup tutorials online. I stared at the social media profile he pulled up for me. Boom, over a million followers!

But that raised a glaring question. "Where did I get the initial capital to buy that very first property?" Jay glared at me. "You are asking me?

I was literally an embryo." I scratched my head awkwardly. Fair point. "Was it… your dad?" Jay shot up from the couch.

His expression turned dead cold. "I do not have a dad." I let out a massive sigh.

I barely knew how to be a functioning daughter, and suddenly I was thrust into the role of a mother. I was completely out of my depth. Jay clearly hated his mother.

Which, unfortunately, was me. Chapter 4 He was volatile, impulsive, and basically a walking fuse waiting to be ignited.

Even though I was physically thirtyfour, mentally, I was still fresh out of my own teenage rebellion. So I somewhat understood the root of his explosive attitude.

Simply put, it was like wanting a pear, but being forcefed an apple. And not just forcefed, being expected to chew it with a smile and zero complaints.

That constant psychological tugofwar naturally triggered his defense mechanisms. How do you handle a kid like that? Two ways. One, the soft approach.

Kill him with patience until the walls crumble. Two, mutually assured destruction. Total dominance until one side breaks. Which route would I take? That was a problem for tomorrow.

Tonight, I needed sleep. Eighteenyearold Chloe needed to maintain the skin elasticity of thirtyfouryearold Chloe. Fact, being a biological mother is incredibly hard.

To surprise my newly acquired teenage son, I woke up early to cook him breakfast. A peace offering of sunnysideup eggs and pasta to salvage our rapidly crumbling relationship.

The eggs burned to a crisp. The pasta turned into a gluey block. Jay stared at the disaster with a deep scowl.

It was hard to tell if he was disgusted by the food or disgusted by me.

I quickly slid a crisp hundreddollar bill across the counter. "Your Highness, shall we relocate to the diner downstairs?" Jay scoffed and headed for the door.

Noticing me trailing right behind him, he turned and glared. "What are you doing?" "I am starving too," I replied defensively. At the diner, Jay ordered his usual.

Then he looked at me. "What are you getting?" "My usual," I bluffed. Jay gave me a deadpan look. "You never eat breakfast." Well.

That was awkward. "From now on, I will eat breakfast with you every single day," I swore solemnly.

Jay spiked instantly. "What does that have to do with me?" "Nothing, absolutely nothing," I appeased. "It is all me. I am turning over a new leaf.

A total rebrand." Despite his aggressive front, his body language betrayed him. He stayed in his seat. The entire breakfast was surprisingly, weirdly peaceful.

After he left for school, I went back to the penthouse to sleep. Waking up on a weekday and realizing I did not have classes to attend was the ultimate flex. Pure bliss.

But before I could fully enjoy my coma, my phone rang. "Am I speaking to Jay's guardian? He got into a physical altercation on campus. The other student is injured.

We need you here immediately." My brain stalled. Jay? Fighting? Guardian? What did that have to do with me? Oh, right. I was thirtyfour. I had a teenage son. His name was Jay.

The protective, fighting instinct flared to life instantly. But when I threw myself into the back of an Uber and the driver asked for the destination, I blanked. Wait.

What school did my kid go to?

Left with zero options, I dialed Natasha. "Babe, what school and grade is my kid in?" I could physically feel the Uber driver judging me heavily through the rearview mirror.

I shrank into the leather seat, small and entirely useless.

Natasha informed me that Jay attended Oakridge Prep. "Damn, my kid is smart." "Shut up," Natasha snapped over the line. "He wanted to go to Central Public.

You were the one who forced him into Oakridge. You two had a massive, explosive fight over it." Central?

That was my old high school! "Why would I do that?" "You claimed it was to build his resume for Ivy League admissions." "I sense a plot twist coming." Natasha let out a cold laugh. "Jay has absolutely zero desire to study abroad." She warned me to tread carefully before we ended up tearing each other apart.

I hung up the phone, completely speechless at my own past life choices. Chapter 5 Was I really that dictatorial as a parent?

We really do grow up to become the exact monsters we swore to destroy. Tragic. Absolutely tragic.

I made record time getting to the school and stormed straight into the dean's office. Jay stood off to the side, his expression dark and completely closed off.

He barely lifted an eyelid when I walked in.

Aside from him, the room was occupied by three towering jocks sporting freshly bruised faces, and a female dean who looked absolutely furious. Oh wow.

A oneversusthree scenario, and my son walked away the undisputed champion. Impressive.

I could not resist giving him a subtle thumbsup behind my back. "Jay's mother, this behavior is completely unacceptable," the dean snapped. "Look at what he did to these boys.

The school will be taking severe disciplinary action for this." "Let us not jump the gun," I said, waving a hand. "First, we need to properly categorize the incident.

Are we looking at selfdefense, or mutual combat?" The dean's eyes bulged. "Selfdefense? Mutual combat?" "Look closely.

Jay assaulted them and beat them to a pulp." I nodded thoughtfully. "So, excessive selfdefense?" Seeing the dean looking like she was seconds away from a massive coronary, I quickly clarified. "Let us be realistic here.

There are three of them, and one of Jay.

It is statistically obvious they came looking for trouble and got obliterated." "You cannot blame society just because they suck at fighting." A sharp, unexpected laugh slipped out of Jay.

The three jocks instantly bristled, shouting that Jay threw the first punch. I glanced at Jay. He had completely retreated behind his wall of apathy again. Fine.

Mom to the rescue. "Where is the proof?" I demanded.

They pointed aggressively at their bruised faces. "This is the proof." I stared at them, completely deadpan. "That is just proof that you guys are weak." The dean finally hit her breaking point. "I need you to stop being so utterly unreasonable." Unreasonable?

I was literally being the voice of pure logic here. "Then let us call the cops." The dean went pale. "What exactly are you trying to do?" I blinked, the picture of absolute innocence. "We clearly cannot reach a consensus.

When in doubt, call law enforcement.

Is that not what we were taught in elementary school?" "Jay put them in the nurse's office!" she stressed, practically pulling her hair out. "Even if they provoked him first, there was no need for this level of violence." I nodded sagely. "You are absolutely right.

Jay was completely out of line. He definitely hit them way too hard." "Jay, come here and apologize," I commanded. Jay dragged his feet, practically vibrating with reluctance.

Under my absolute death glare, he finally spit out an apology with maximum arrogance. His tone and demeanor did not scream apology. They screamed pure hostility.

Capitalizing on their stunned silence, I pushed my advantage. "Look, both sides are at fault here. But as the dean pointed out, Jay used excessive force.

We admit it, and we apologized." "In return, I fully expect these boys to stop harassing my son.

Are we clear?" Operating purely on peace and love, the conflict was perfectly resolved.

I dragged Jay out of the building under the official guise of taking him home to reflect on his actions. "Felt good, did it not?" I nudged him, arching an eyebrow.

Jay let out a dark scoff. "Were you not terrified they would actually call the cops?" "So what if they did? At worst, they write it up as mutual combat.

We take the penalty, but we make damn sure they suffer just as much in the process." I shot him a fiercely confident look. "Relax. I did my research in the Uber.

When it comes to school bullies, you never, ever back down." Chapter 6 Jay gave me a deadpan look. "Are you absolutely certain I was not the one bullying them?" "I literally just graduated high school.

You think I don't know exactly how these little turf wars work?" "Right. You are currently eighteen." The sarcasm dripped from his voice.

I shoved him into the back of an Uber. "Where are we going?" he asked. "To have fun." I beamed, practically vibrating with excitement. "Whenever I ended up in the dean's office, I always wished my parents would just take me out to play afterward." "I never thought I would be the one fulfilling my own childhood dream." Jay stared at me. "You ended up in the dean's office?" Oops.

Accidental selfreport. "Anyway, getting an Uber is such a hassle. Wait, do I know how to drive?" Jay rolled his eyes. "Keep dreaming.

Even if you have a license, you are entirely banned from the driver's seat.

Your mental age is literally a liability right now." I frowned. "You cannot be this disrespectful to your own mother." "Then please tell me, dearest mother, where exactly are we heading?" That question completely stumped me. "How about the local park or the roller rink?" I suggested, pulling from my eighteenyearold memory bank.

Jay stared blankly. "Never heard of it. Sounds lame. Hard pass." Eventually, Jay stepped up as the responsible adult and directed the driver to a massive neonlit arcade downtown.

The second I stepped inside, I was absolutely feral. A wild horse slipping its reins.

Jay watched me with pure judgment. "Are you taking me out, or am I babysitting you?" "Can we not just hang out as two totally normal people?" I shot back.

Jay scoffed. "The generational gap is too wide. We cannot relate." Absolute menace of a child. But his actions completely betrayed his toxic attitude.

Whether we were shooting hoops, wrestling with the claw machine, or stomping it out on the dance pad, he did not hold back for a single second.

By the end of the night, my teenage soul was still screaming for more, but my thirtyfouryearold joints were launching a fullscale strike. "I am exhausted.

Physically destroyed." "Weak," he sneered. Despite the relentless trash talk, he silently handed me a bottle of water, the cap already loosened for me. I did not call him out on it.

I just took a long sip and accepted the princess treatment. After dragging ourselves out of the arcade, we hit up a latenight hotpot joint.

When we finally got back to the penthouse, I turned to him. "I am in an excellent mood today.

Tell me your biggest wish." "I will make it happen." Jay furrowed his brow, shooting me a guarded look.

He fell utterly silent for a long moment. "I want to transfer schools," he finally said. Transfer? I stared at him, caught completely off guard.

Natasha's warning suddenly echoed in my head. He really was still holding a massive grudge about Oakridge Prep. Seeing my hesitation, Jay's expression completely shut down.

The ice returned. Right as he turned his back to march up the stairs, I spoke. "Okay. We transfer." Jay whipped around. "Are you serious?" I nodded. "Obviously.

Where do you want to go?" He took a step closer, his eyes scanning my face for a lie. "You are actually serious?" "A hundred percent," I confirmed solemnly.

His face went completely blank. "Then why did you spend an insane amount of money and rip our lives apart just to force me into Oakridge?" I stared at him.

I literally had clinical amnesia. How the hell was I supposed to know? This kid was completely immune to the concept of moving on. "Fine, fine. I was wrong, okay? My bad.

So, Your Highness, which school are we pivoting to?" Jay did not hesitate for a fraction of a second. "Central Public." I let out a teasing laugh. "Such deep loyalty.

Let me guess, there is a cute girl waiting for you over there?" Jay let out a sharp, frigid scoff. "You think everyone is exactly like you?" The words left his mouth.

The oxygen instantly evaporated from the room. A suffocating, dead silence crashed down between us. Chapter 7 Jay's expression was a complicated mess.

He clearly knew he had crossed a line, but his stubborn pride kept his jaw locked tight. I let out a long sigh. "It is a good thing I have clinical amnesia.

Otherwise, I would absolutely beat you until you forgot who your own mother was." For once, he did not talk back.

After a suffocating pause, he finally broke the silence. "Do you even know how to process a school transfer?" Well. How was I supposed to know?

But I had a foolproof backup plan. "We leave the adulting to the actual adults.

As the kids, we just give the orders." Jay shot me a look of pure disgust. "What exactly are you trying to do?" I wiggled my eyebrows at him. "We are calling your godmother." Jay stared at me. "I do not have a godmother." Right on cue, the line connected.

I immediately pitched my voice up. "Natasha!

Your precious godson wants to transfer schools." "You are not going to leave him hanging, are you?" Natasha went completely silent over the phone.

Jay looked like he wanted to jump out the nearest window. Natasha operated with terrifying efficiency. She handled the entire bureaucratic nightmare in exactly one week.

When she tossed the official transfer documents onto my coffee table, her face was twisted in utter disdain. "Keep burning everything to the ground.

Let us see how much you regret this when your memory actually comes back." "Impossible," I scoffed. "Why would I hold a grudge against myself?" Being mad at my own choices?

That was just selfinflicted torture.

Natasha let out a sharp, cold laugh. "What exactly do you think you have been doing all these years?" She narrowed her eyes, studying my face closely. "It is actually bizarre.

You have not asked a single question about how you survived the last sixteen years. Chloe, look me in the eye.

Are you faking this?" I stared at her, completely deadpan. "I am not an idiot. Jay and I are basically at war.

My parents and I have cut total contact." "My phone contacts consist entirely of you, Uber Eats, Amazon delivery, and the maintenance guy.

Does that scream 'living my best life' to you?" Natasha slowclapped. "Selfawareness looks good on you." "No, I just have the ultimate outsider's perspective." "Are you not going to visit your parents at all?" she asked. "No rush.

Baby steps. I need to fix the toxic wasteland of a relationship I have with my kid first." "And how is that going with your kid?" I thought about it for a second. "Great, actually.

Steady progress." Assuming we ignored the fact that he threatened to legally emancipate himself from me this morning.

Honestly, I still had no idea what triggered his absolute meltdown. All because I smashed my own piggy bank? Here is what happened.

Because my brain was still stuck in my teenage years, I was not used to Apple Pay or digital wallets. I needed physical cash on hand to feel secure.

But the penthouse was completely tapped out of bills. So, my eyes naturally gravitated toward my old ceramic golden piggy bank.

I bought that specific piggy bank back in middle school.

That was the exact year my parents finally stopped confiscating my holiday money, and I became absolutely obsessed with hoarding cash.

By the time I was eighteen, it was incredibly heavy. I was genuinely shocked it had survived all these years in the apartment.

It was physical proof that my financial situation had been relatively stable. But now, it was time for it to serve its ultimate purpose.

Without a single second of hesitation, I smashed it against the floor. The ceramic shattered violently. Jay rushed into the room at the sound.

He took one look at the debris and sucked in a sharp, ragged breath. "You smashed it?" His voice cracked. I nodded, completely oblivious. "Yep." His jaw locked.

The muscles in his neck jumped as he ground out the words. "I am legally severing my ties with you." Just like that, our daily breakfast pact was instantly terminated.

He stormed out of the penthouse, radiating pure, suffocating anger. I looked at Natasha. "Can you please explain what his problem is?" "You are asking me? Figure it out yourself.

This is entirely your own karmic debt." Natasha slid her designer sunglasses over her eyes and walked right out the door. Chapter 8 I refused to shoulder the blame for this.

If anyone is racking up karmic debt, it is absolutely the baby daddy. But who the hell is he? I could not stop spiraling over the question.

It was a bigger mystery than why Jay was throwing a tantrum. Since His Highness was currently enraged, I did not dare touch the loose cash.

I ordered an exact replica of the ceramic piggy bank and stuffed every single dollar bill back inside.

The second Jay walked through the door, I shoved it in his face like a peace offering. "Look. An exact replica." Jay gave me a deadpan "Oh" and did not even spare me a glance.

I went into full grovel mode. "My bad. I should not have smashed it without asking. I committed a cardinal sin. I am completely irredeemable.

Please forgive me." Normally, this level of dramatic groveling would make him physically gag. Today, he gave absolutely zero reaction.

He stepped around me with weaponized apathy. "Whatever. It is already broken." This was the terrifying calm before the hurricane.

I trailed behind him down the hallway, apologizing nonstop. At his bedroom door, he blocked me. "I have homework to do." I pulled out my ultimate trump card. "Tada!

The transfer paperwork went through. We are heading to Central Public next week." Jay barely glanced at the paper. "Oh." Teenagers were an unsolved psychological anomaly.

I fully expected him to maintain a toxic level of hostility over the shattered piggy bank. Instead, he walked out of his room the next morning acting completely normal.

He even reminded me to grab a jacket before leaving the penthouse. "Are we done being mad?" I asked. "I was never mad." Absolute gaslighting.

But he clearly did not want to unpack it, so I did not push my luck. "I am heading out for a bit," I told him. "Where?" "The bank.

I need to reset my PIN." It was incredibly humiliating. Eighteenyearold me could not guess thirtyfouryearold me's bank password. I ran through every single family birthday.

Total lockout. A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck. Was my password tied to the anonymous baby daddy? Was I genuinely suffering from a toxic obsession with some guy?

Absolutely horrifying. Jay told me to be safe, and we went our separate ways. I hit the bank and reset the PIN.

Walking out with my accounts secured, I decided to go on a massive shopping spree. And immediately got completely lost. I stood frozen at a random intersection.

The street view was completely foreign. I had zero idea which direction to walk. I dialed Natasha. It went straight to voicemail