1:
Amy strode through the subway station, her boots clicking on the tiled floor with each confident step. Her dress clung to her curves, and her makeup and hair were flawless as always. An elegant necklace tied the ensemble together – the latest gift from Amir, her husband. Yet, despite her composure, Amy couldn’t shake the unease festering in the pit of her stomach. She despised this place. Sure, it was late, and the station was nearly empty, but besides that, there was something sinister about the insectoid buzz of the fluorescent lights. It reminded her of...something, like a memory floating just out of reach. She quickened her pace, eager to leave the station and whatever darkness it dredged up from her subconscious. But before she could reach the exit, a hand shot out from the shadows and grabbed her wrist. Amy gasped and tried to jerk away, but the grip was firm, pulling her into a lightless corner. A woman stood before her. She had a tired look in her eyes, and her clothes were rumpled and worn, but there was an undeniable strength and grace in how she carried herself. A wild mane of curly hair framed her face, and her full lips were set in a determined line. “Kev! Oh, thank God, I found you.” The woman’s voice was low and husky. “It’s me.” Amy frowned. “My name’s not Kev. Let go of me, please.” Disappointment washed over the woman’s pretty face. “Damn. You haven’t broken through the programming yet? They must’ve really done a number on you. Look, I don’t have time to explain. You need to come with me. Now.”
2:
Amy’s heart raced as she was dragged toward the exit. She tugged, trying to break free, but the woman’s grip was shockingly strong. “I don’t know you and I’m not going anywhere.” Amy’s voice was firm, but the fear behind it was unmistakable. The woman sighed as she pulled her along. “Shit. They can’t have erased everything. Do you remember your favorite childhood memory? The one where you and your brother snuck into that abandoned house, and you found the old wooden box filled with antique coins.” Amy stopped struggling, her eyes wide with disbelief. “How could you possibly know that?” The woman gave her a sad smile. “Because I was there, Kev. We were inseparable. My name is Jim, and you’re my brother.” “Stop! Jim died when I was a girl.” “No, I didn’t. And you were never a girl. We were investigators before they took us and turned us into these... these dolls.” She gestured towards Amy’s perfect outfit. “They wanted to control us, to stop us from digging too deep.” Amy scoffed. “You’re insane. I have a husband, a life.” But even as she spoke, Amy’s vision blurred. For a moment, the woman’s face transformed into that of a young man, with a strong jaw, even curlier blonde hair, and a glimmer of mischief in his green eyes. It was like looking into a distorted mirror, and a strange jolt of recognition shot through her. The moment passed, and the woman’s face returned. “Look, Kev... Amy, I know this is hard to believe, but you need to trust me. Your so-called life is a fabrication. We have to go. They’re coming for us.” Desperation edged into her voice.
3:
They burst through the doors and into the absurdly bright sunlight, and Amy squinted as her eyes adjusted. “Let go!” Amy shouted, her voice cracking with emotion. “This is crazy.” The woman’s grip softened, but she didn’t release her. “I know this sounds unbelievable, but I have proof. Just give me a chance to show you. If I’m wrong—” Two men in suits appeared and grabbed the woman. She struggled, her voice rising to a shout: “Fuck! No. Get off me, you bastards! Amy, you’re not who you think you are! You’re Kevin Fuchs! You’re a man!”  As the enormous men dragged the crazy woman away, another younger man approached Amy. His expressionless face was framed by a neatly trimmed beard, and his dark eyes bored into her like laser beams. He reached out and gently touched her arm, his voice oddly soothing. “I’m sorry for the disturbance, miss. That poor creature escaped from the psychiatric hospital. We’ve been trying to catch her all morning. Are you unharmed? Do you need medical assistance?” Amy took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “I’m fine. Just a bit shaken. Thank you, sir.” The man nodded, extending a business card with a discreet flourish. On the card, an embossed phone number glinted in the sunlight. Amy noticed his well-groomed fingers as they brushed against her own trembling hand. “Miss, you are a testament to your sex. Should you require any assistance or suffer emotional distress or… confusion… from this ordeal, please don’t hesitate to call the number on this card. We’re here to help.”
4:
As the man pivoted to leave, he paused. “By the way, that necklace suits you. Quite exquisite.” The corner of his mouth curled up in a smile, and Amy noticed his unnaturally white teeth gleaming in the streetlight. Goosebumps erupted on her arms. Compliments from men were expected, but the intensity of this one’s gaze was unnerving – as if she were a rabbit caught in a hawk’s sights. Time slowed. She felt the clammy dampness of her palms and her fingers twitching involuntarily. Then, with a nod, the strange man disappeared into the night, leaving her alone on the deserted street corner. She glanced at her phone, her hand trembling. She had to get home! Amir must be wondering where she was. The poor man always worried if she wasn’t home before sundown. The city could be a terribly dangerous place, after all. She wouldn’t tell him about this encounter, though. She’d make up some excuse. It’d only worry him further and...  Amy shook her head. Wasn’t Amir gentle? Yet a small but insistent voice whispered that he might not react well to this incident. No. This would be her little secret. After all, she had so few of those these days. There probably wouldn’t be much conversation anyway. She was making a roast for dinner, his favorite. And her cooking always made him hungry for more than just food. Which was a good thing, considering they were trying for a baby. Pushing the bizarre encounter from her mind, Amy hurried home, eager to return to her real life. Her heels clicked on the pavement, each step bringing her closer to the safety of her carefully constructed existence as a wife and mom-to-be.
5:
As Amy and Amir ate dinner, the silence was broken only by silverware clinking against plates. She couldn’t shake off the encounter from earlier. The disturbing event would surely trigger her nightmares, which had plagued her since the accident that left her with a scar just above her hairline (thank goodness) and an unreliable memory. “You’re Kevin Fuchs! You’re a man!” That name. Why did it sound so familiar? “It’s Tuesday,” Amir declared once he finished his broccoli. “Wear the red lingerie.” Amy looked up from her plate, her mind still muddled. “What?” “The red lingerie,” he repeated. “It’s my favorite. Wear it tonight.” She forced a smile, feeling a knot form in her stomach. But why? This was her husband; she should want to please him. But suddenly the thought of dressing up for him, putting on a show, made her feel anxious. “Sure, okay.” Amir leaned forward. His smile was the same, and yet– Amy shrank back, her heart suddenly racing for no reason. Her hand went to her scar, a nervous habit that never failed to calm her. “You know,” Amir said, his voice low. “The app says you left work later than usual.” Amy froze, her fork hovering over her plate. “What app?” “The one I installed on your phone,” Amir replied casually. “Remember? For tracking your location.” “I...I don’t remember that,” Amy stammered. How could she forget something like that? Was her memory truly that terrible?
6:
Amir chuckled. “Don’t worry, baby. I just want to know you’re safe.” He reached across the table, his hand brushing against hers. “You know how dangerous the city is these days.” “Thank you,” Amy murmured. “And the other app says you’ll be extra fertile this week,” Amir added, his eyes gleaming. “We should take advantage. That’s why I’m suggesting the red lingerie tonight.” A strange but welcome tingling spread through Amy’s body. She was being so silly! Amir was her husband, after all. She should trust him. Amy nodded, a smile spreading across her face. “You’re right. I’ll wear the red lingerie tonight.” Amir grinned. “That’s my girl.” He leaned in and kissed her gently. Why did his beard feel so wrong? “I love you, Amy.” “I love you too,” she replied. *   *   * After a quick shower, Amy wrapped a towel around herself and went to her wardrobe. Her heart raced as her fingers grazed the delicate fabric of the red lace teddy. Usually, she loved to flaunt her curves, but tonight was different. The lingerie Amir had chosen felt too revealing. Too wrong. There had to be something else... As she rummaged through the cluttered closet, that’s when she found it - a crumpled men’s dress shirt hidden in a back drawer. Amir’s? It seemed too large. Amy brought the shirt to her face, inhaling the faint scent of... Not Amir. The unfamiliar, musky cologne sent shivers down her spine. Stop, she scolded herself. Amir hasn’t always worn the same cologne.
7:
She slipped on the shirt, enjoying its loose, comfortable fit and the soft fabric against her skin. Guys liked it when girls wore their clothes, right? She left the top button open, revealing a hint of cleavage, and paired it with some boyshorts. As she walked into the bedroom, Amir was already in bed, naked and eager. “Finally,” he growled. Amy posed on the chair by the bed, the hem of the oversized shirt barely covering her thighs. Amir’s eyes roamed over her body, but there was confusion and even alarm in his expression. “Do you like it?” Amy asked, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Where’d you find that?” “In the back of my closet.” Amy tried to hide the hurt in her voice. “I thought you’d like it.” “You’re not a man,” Amir said. “Take it off. Tomorrow, I suggest you throw it away and forget you found it. Now, come here.” Amy’s heart sank, but she unbuttoned the shirt and let it slide off her shoulders. Amir’s eyes grew dark with desire as she climbed onto the bed and straddled him. As she lowered herself onto her husband’s hard cock, Amir whispered, “This is where you belong.” Wrong! *   *   * The nightmare began like always. Amy found herself in a dim alley, fleeing from an unseen terror—her heart thundering in her chest, her breaths shallow and rapid. Abruptly, she stumbled, her knees slamming into the pavement. Struggling to rise, her legs refused to obey. Then, she heard it—the sound of footsteps.
***
The nightmare began as it always did.
Amy found herself in a shadowy alley, fleeing from an unseen terror—her heart thundering in her chest, her breaths shallow and rapid. Abruptly, she stumbled, her knees grazing the coarse pavement. Struggling to rise, her legs refused to obey. Then, she heard it—the sound of footsteps drawing near.
8:
“No!” thundered a deep voice, not her own. “I won’t go back. You’ll have to kill me, you—” The dream ended, as it always did, with Amy waking up, soaked in sweat and gasping for air. She looked at Amir, sleeping peacefully beside her, and exhaled deeply. Kevin Fuchs… Amy’s mind raced as she tried to recall where she’d heard that name. It was like a whisper in the back of her mind. There had to be a reason. Silently, Amy slipped out of bed, tiptoed to her laptop, and typed the name into Google. Scanning the search results, she found a news article from three years ago. It told the story of a young journalist named Kevin Fuchs, who vanished. He’d been with his brother, Jim Fuchs, when it happened. Only their abandoned car was ever found. Her heart skipped a beat. Was this the Kevin the mysterious woman had mentioned? And hadn’t she claimed her own name was Jim, absurd as it’d seemed? With a shaky hand, Amy clicked on a photo in the article. It was a picture of Kevin Fuchs. And it was a picture of Amy—or at least, Amy with thicker brows, a more defined jawline, and a five o’clock shadow. Her eyes widened. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing—it was like looking at a male doppelgänger of herself. The resemblance was uncanny. More than uncanny. Impossible! The puzzle pieces began to come together: The strange dreams that had haunted her for nearly three years, dreams that felt more like memories.
9:
Memories of fleeing – of being hunted – and knowing her survival hinged on eluding her pursuer. Her survival? Or… Amy closed her eyes and willed herself to reassemble the dream. Maybe she was as insane as the woman who confronted her at the train station, but she needed answers. Fragmented images flashed before her closed eyelids. She was back in the alley, the wet pavement slick beneath her heavy boots. Her ragged breathing was loud in her ears, her heart thumping in her chest. There was a dull ache in her groin. Was she hurt? A bizarre sense of incompleteness washed over her as she fled, as if a part of her had been left behind. As she rounded a bend, she caught sight of herself in a cracked mirror on the wall. Only it wasn't her. It was Kevin, and there was terror in his eyes. The same blue eyes she saw reflected back at her each day. Then, she saw him. The man who was chasing her. He was tall and muscular like always but this time, it wasn't some faceless beast. It was— No… Yes! Amir grinned. His eyes were cold and merciless. “You never should’ve come back for your little brother. You might have actually made it this time.” He lunged, and Kevin screamed— —and woke up, sitting in front of her... his laptop. Amir, his husband and buyer and captor, snored loudly ten feet away, oblivious. Kevin stood, smoothed down the nightgown, and walked to the kitchen. The void between his
10:
legs was both familiar and horrifying, the jiggle of his breasts and the swell of his ass simultaneously normal and terrifying. Kevin eased open drawers with his fingertips – careful not to chip his French manicure – and felt for the smooth hilt of the Japanese chef’s knife he'd used earlier to carve the roast. Amir would help him find Jim, or he’d lose even more pieces than Kevin had.