ReadMe.txt/Lost Files.

AUBREY_033.log

[System Notification: Archived Entry – USER_033]

Outcome: Failure to disconnect

Status: Reality bleed initiated

Memory recovery incomplete 

A Missed Call From YOU

She answered a phone call from her own number, her phone vibrated in her hand as she looked at the name on the screen “you” with her phone number scrolling across the screen. 

But how can this be possible she thought, “I am literally holding my phone. It was in my bag two minutes ago, I grabbed it out to answer this call”

The phone carries on ringing, getting louder and shriller. Her hands are shaking she isn't even sure why. She presses accept and holds the phone to her ear. At first she hears nothing. 

“hello?” she says into the phone

Only silence answers

She is about to hang up when she hears 

“hello?” only it's her own voice. Like a delay. Like an echo. 

She shakes her head, clearing it from the eerie feeling that took over her body. Takes the phone from her face and presses end call. 

She wonders if she somehow called herself by accident, but always thought doing that would send the call to voicemail—you’d technically already be on the line, right?

Her phone had been acting strange ever since she installed that game. It was sent to her by email—for free. A simulation game, where you could create your own characters. She couldn’t even remember the name exactly. Something like... Play Me.

She tried to delete it after the first glitch, but the game wouldn’t uninstall. Even a factory reset wiped every app—except that one.

She knew she shouldn’t have downloaded it. The email came from her psychotic ex. But curiosity got the better of her. She places the phone back into her front jeans pocket.

She carries on through the airport, she had just gotten off the plane and through customs from her trip to India, her work had asked to go there, she was a teacher, so she was asked to go over there and teach the children math. It was an amazing three months. She didn't want to leave but her time had come to an end. 

On her last night she went clubbing with the colleagues she had worked with that month. They had gone to so many bars, she was so drunk by the end of the night she barely remembers it. She knows however that she got on with one person in perticular that night, they had taken her number. They had kissed a little, and promised they'd keep in touch. A smile goes across her face as she remembers the last kiss goodbye she had from them. It made her heart go wild and didn't want it to end. 

Her phone rings again, cutting through her day dream, the same shrill tone, she doesn't even recognise it as her own. It then hits her that usually she doesn't even have her phone on loud. Who does these days? It's always on vibrate or silent. When she was a kid she used to love buying ringtones off the back of magazines for her Sony Ericsson phone, was so proud to show her friends. Now she would have the urge to throw her phone up the wall or out the window if it rings out loud. She is tempted to right now, to take her phone out her bag, throw it on the floor and stamp on it. 

She doesn't though, instead she takes a deep breath, takes the phone out of her bag and looks at the screen. It's the same number, her number. She declines the call, and goes to the settings to turn her phone on silent. Only her phone is saying it already is on silent. That doesn't make sense she thinks, so she clicks the silent button a little notification appears saying “phone now on loud”. She clicks it again “phone now on silent”. 

“okay, good! “ she mumbles to herself. 

She has felt weird since landing, like she's not really here. Sometimes it felt like she is watching herself from the outside. She keeps telling herself it's just the jet lag. That she will feel better after a good night's sleep and getting back into her old routine. 

She already has a taxi waiting for her outside the airport. Her friends and family were to busy to meet her off the flight so she is going to see them tomorrow at her welcome home party. As she steps out onto the busy street. Looking for her taxi, she had memorised it's registration plate on the plane incase her phone had died on the flight. She sees it, a man is standing outside of the taxi, puffing on a vape. She waves at him. He looks her up and down. 

“Aubry?” he asks

She nods in relief that it's the correct taxi. He puts the vape into his top pocket. Takes her bags off her and puts them in the boot. She gets in the back of the taxi. 

She kept her handbag with her, so she has access to her keys, purse and phone. The taxi man gets in the car and starts to pull away. He begins the usual small talk of “lovely weather we are having” “traffic is terrible this time of year” she answers politely. Just as they nearly get into a deep conversation about politics her phone rings again. The shrill echoing around the taxi. The taxi man carries on talking not even a bit phased that her phone is now making it hard for her to hear him. 

She grabs her phone out her bag in frustration, she wonders why it hasn't gone on silent like she asked. She gives the taxi man her index fingers in the universal sign language of one minute please. He looks at her bewildered, like he doesn't understand why she just cut him off like that. 

She looks at the caller, it's herself again. She jabs the accept button in anger. 

“hello??” she asks angrily into the phone. 

All she hears is party music, then a bang like a gun, a slam of what sounds like a door. Then crying. 

“hello? Are you okay? Are you there?”

No one responds to her directly, but she hears something else, something that causes the hair at the back of her neck stick up

“Aubrey? AUBREY?, OH GOD AUBREY? WAKE UP. SHE ISN'T BREATHING” Someone is screaming in distance on the other end of the phone. 

Her breath is quickening, she suddenly can't breath. She looks down at her stomach, blood is spilling out of her t-shirt. Her throat is clogging up with blood. The taste metallic between her teeth. She looks around the taxi, which suddenly turns into a bathroom. She is holding her phone. She remembers now, just as she was about to put her phone number in the persons phone in the club, someone had rushed past her shooting. She got shoved into the toilet as they pushed by. The pain in her stomach was intense. She couldn't breath. She couldn't see.

Then she woke up, getting off the plain. Only she never left India. Did she?