I'm Still Sadie

The Last Day Of Sadie

THE LAST DAY OF SADIE

I woke up already feeling exhausted.

There was now so much on my chest. Tegan was never in my body, which meant that neither was Clarke or the others. That also meant that whoever I was today wasn't currently stirring awake in my bed in Iowa.

So it was at that moment where it all became official; I would have to travel back home to figure this all out.

As I scrambled out of the bed, ignoring the walls that were the color of pee, I fell at the computer. Without hesitation, I was opening up Facebook and Instagram. My passwords weren't coming to mind, so I was forced to view my accounts as an outsider. And what I saw wasn't all that relieving.

There was nothing.

Since had I become Tegan, a whole week ago, nothing had been posted. This was strange. It was as if my mind and body had been disconnected from each other. My mind was here in the piss-yellow room, while my body was MIA; it might not even be in Iowa.

There was no indication of where this yellow room was located, but I had never felt farther from home. I still stared at the computer screen, rubbing my eyes from haziness, in hopes that I'd stumble across my old life somehow. Right then, I could so perfectly envision my bedroom back home with the basketball hoop on the door and the posters on the ceiling. I closed my eyes to feel the vision encompass me.

There was the old VCR on my dresser that Nell and I would watch movies on. There was my space-themed blanket that my mom would tuck me under when I was younger. There was the doorframe where my dad would mark my height.

I had so many memories there, and at that moment, all of them seemed fond.

A few tears dripped to my chin. I missed everything. Were my parents worried about me? Was Nell?

I couldn't imagine what it looked like from their perspective. If no one was there in my place, did it look like I had run away? That I had been kidnapped? Did it look like I was dead?

I had to communicate with them to let them know that I was physically sound, but could still use some help figuring out how to reverse what had happened to me.

The problem was that I didn't know how to pull that off. With me locked out of my Facebook and Instagram, I was limited in my options.

There was a Skype icon on the bottom of the laptop screen, but I doubted its usefulness to me. Could my family and friends believe it was me if all they saw was a stranger's body? If all they saw was the owner of a pee-yellow room?

The chances of that working in my favor were low, but I still wanted to see a familiar face or two. Even if they accused me of being my own kidnapper or something just as terrible, it would do me some good to be reminded me of my old life.

So if face to face contact wouldn't do, I would send out a letter. I cracked my knuckles before typing on the laptop again.

Similar to before, I couldn't remember the password to my email, so I settled with the account that belonged to the owner of the laptop. From what I could tell, her name was Ramona Linden, but she would also be my opportunity to contact whoever I needed. The first email went to Nell.

My fingers paused after I typed in her email address, hovering over the keyboard. My brain wasn't ready to mold my thoughts and feelings into intelligible sentences. Never before had I been at a bigger loss for words.