Chapter 1

I’m not going to link my previous post.

Please don’t look for it.

That’s the first rule I was given.

I know saying that will make some of you want to find it. I know some of you already have tabs open. I know someone is probably typing my username into a search bar right now.

Don’t.

I tried to delete that post twenty minutes ago. It was stupid. Too personal. I wrote it at 3 a.m. after two nights without sleep, and by the time I woke up this morning, there were comments under it I didn’t remember reading.

Some of them were normal.

Some of them said things like:

I remember this happening to you.

You told it wrong.

That isn’t where you hid.

One comment was just my full name.

I clicked delete.

Instead of the usual confirmation box, Reddit gave me this:

BEFORE YOU REMOVE YOURSELF, READ CAREFULLY.

Then the rules appeared.

I copied them here because I don’t know what else to do.

Or maybe because it wanted me to.

I can’t tell anymore.

1. Do not search for the previous post.

If you find it, you will think you are learning what happened to me.

You are not.

You are teaching it what I was before it arrived.

2. If you have already read the previous post, do not summarize it accurately.

Accuracy helps it.

Errors help me.

If you remember my story, please leave a comment, but get at least one detail wrong.

Say the door was blue if it was white.

Say my mother was home if she wasn’t.

Say I had a brother.

Say I didn’t.

I need enough wrong versions of myself to hide inside.

3. Do not quote any sentence from the previous post exactly.

Exact words are handles.

If you quote me perfectly, it can pull.

If you paraphrase me badly, it has to guess.

4. If you remember a detail I never wrote, do not tell me.

That detail is probably true.

That is why it was left out.

5. If I comment under this post asking you to remind me what happened, do not answer me.

That will not be me forgetting.

That will be it checking how much of me has been successfully recovered.

6. If another user claims they have a screenshot, ask them one question: “Does OP appear in it?”

If they say no, they are lying.

If they say yes, ask them where I am standing.

If they say “behind the person taking the picture,” stop replying.

7. Do not upvote the most complete version of my story.

The top comment becomes the preferred memory.

The preferred memory becomes the replacement.

The replacement becomes easier to wear.

8. If you want to help me, contradict each other.

Argue about dates.

Argue about the room.

Argue about whether I was alone.

Argue about whether I sounded scared.

Please.

Make a mess.

A clean story is easier to inhabit.

9. If you see someone commenting as me, check whether they use contractions.

I always use contractions.

It doesn’t.

Not at first.

It learned “I am” before it learned “I’m.”

It learned my name before it learned my fear.

It learned my fear before it learned my guilt.

10. If I edit this post to say I am safe, report the edit.

I will not be safe.

I will either be gone, or I will have agreed to become simpler.

11. If the previous post disappears, do not celebrate.

Deletion is not escape.

Deletion is digestion.

12. If you remember me differently than everyone else, keep remembering.

Even if you are wrong.

Especially if you are wrong.

One of those wrong versions might still have a door.

That was the last rule.

At least, it was when I copied it.

There’s another one now.

It wasn’t there five minutes ago.

13. If enough people tell your story, you will not have to.

I don’t know if that means you can save me.

I don’t know if that means it won’t need me anymore.

I don’t know if every comment gives me another place to hide, or gives it another piece to practice with.

But I’m asking anyway.

Those of you who read the first post:

Please leave a comment.

Tell them what happened to me.

Tell it wrong.