WWRD?

Parts 1 2

One might think it is, well, freeing to have free will.

I'm sure it is, for those who haven't lived playing by someone else's rules. Even when I had "decisions" to make in the past, it was never my choice.

To suddenly be granted this ability of thinking for myself after a life of someone else holding the reins?

Well, it sucks.

Especially since I don't have a freaking clue what to do.

My heart races. My mind is overwhelmed. Frankly, all I want to do is hide in a dark corner, holding my head, and rocking back and forth on my heels like a child.

Breathe. Breathe.

What would Rebecca do? That question indicates how much influence she still has on me, that this free will is nothing more than a mere illusion.

No matter, especially if it gets me through...whatever this is.

I start to look around, trying to find something that will tell me where I am. My eyes quickly land on a small newspaper stand a few feet away. Maybe they have a local paper.

Snatching one of a nearby pile, I quickly scan it. Wannopik Gazette.

Huh, so Wannopik's a real place. So is that warehouse. I wonder how much of Rebecca's reality and my fantasy intersect.

I go to toss the paper back on the leaning tower, when something catches my eye.

Local Author, Rebecca Tatum, Wins New York Bestsellers Award (2028 Gold)

Her face is like looking in a mirror with the obvious shift from female to male, even down to the scar running through her left eyebrow. Is the story behind it the same as mine - a little kid running into a kitchen counter while playing tag with their father?

It could just be a coincidence, but something in my gut tells it isn't.

***

This is a bad idea.

I pick the lock to the front door, something I've done many times before.

Yeah, not the best (or most legal) plan, but I wasn't exactly created a saint. Besides, the other ideas I had weren't much better, especially just approaching to her on the street. I'm not sure what's going on and this is not something I want to hash out in public.

Plus, I'm not even sure this if this Rebecca Tatum, is my Rebecca. I need to make sure before I make contact. From what I can tell, I can get in and out before she comes out the bathroom.

I enter and gradually push the door closed.

Creakkkkk!

I freeze in place, looking around for a place to hide.

"Hello?!"

Oh, how I want to answer and let my playful side out a little.

After it's obvious that she's not going to investigate further, I sneak into what looks like a small office. And out in the open, a laptop, which happens to be very easy to get into. It opens up to a Word document with a familiar scene. A scene where I end up dead; it's clear by what comes after Briar shoots me dead. Rome finding me, holding my dead body in his arms. My funeral...

I gently close the laptop. Really, I want to toss it out the window, but that would bring Rebecca down here.

But I need answers.

It's time for you to meet your pissed off creation, Rebecca.