Just wait.

  My alarm blared into the silent morning.

I stiffly opened my eyes to see my gray ceiling. I groaned and rolled over. Where was I last night? I thought, trying to remember the events.

Nothing.

I lifted up my hand and examined my long pastel fake nails. I sat up slowly and looked down. What the? I noticed an odd checkered jacket on me. The colors of Sea foam green, yellow, pink, and black checkered. I didn't fall asleep in this... Did I?

Then, I got fully out of my bed, and looked down to see my pants. Holy smokes! I thought. Bright orange baggy jeans which were ripped all over. I ran over to a mirror.

I was wearing a feathered fusha beaked mask from the plague. I touched the mask, but I didn't understand. How come I didn't feel this on my face beforehand?

I tried to rip off the mask, but it wouldn't budge. I pulled hard on the mask, fumbling with it. It would not come off. I tried to take off the jacket, the pants, but no. The outfit was practically super-glued to me.

Great, I thought, Just great.

Then, suddenly, the events of last night flashed through my mind. I was walking my dog. Then, I looked behind me... Something- someone was there. That's when I was hit. Hit in the back of the head.

How'd the attacker know where I lived? How'd I get back in bed?What will my parents think? Questions swirled through my mind.

I numbly walked out of my white room into my hallway. Family portraits hung from the walls. My parent's kind smiles. My cute outfits.

I looked down at my clothes again. I touched the beak of my mask. I really can't go to school like this.

I walked into the modern kitchen of my house, looking around to see if my parents would notice this odd outfit of mine. My parents were nowhere to be seen. 

“Mom? Dad?” My voice croaked, as I was quite scared.

Then, I saw something that left me in stark terror-

Blood.

On the wall outside the window. I ran out the front door, and fell to my knees… A note. A note was left on my porch. 

“If you ever want to see your parents again, complete the tasks wearing what you’ve got on…” I read quietly through my shaking hands.

What are the tasks?

“Go to school… Easy… easy,” I was still shaking. “Open locker number 017… Take the money to Crimson Park…”

Money? I gasped. I can't do this... I pulled out my phone and started to dial 9-1-1.

"No," I heard a dark voice behind me, screamed and whipped around. "I'm in your ear. You know, the mask has cameras in it. Do the tasks. Your parents are waiting for you."

"No, no please no..." I started crying, and rocked back and forth on my heels. I said feebly, "Someone please... help me..."

"Go to school," The voice snapped.

I sniffled, picked up my bag, stumbled off of my porch, and started walking to school.

I didn't care about the outfit anymore. I didn't care what people would think at this point.

I need to find my parents.

* * *

I walked, head low. A black bag hung over my shoulder. I didn't count the amount of money in it. I didn't even have to, I saw enough to the point where I knew that the money wasn't made by selling girl scout cookies.

"Crimson Park," I murmured and walked into the center of it, then spoke the voice in my mask, "Here I am."

"Good," The voice soothed. "Set down the bag and walk away."

"Walk away?" I repeated in disbelief.

"Walk away. Go home, and your parents will be there. Your clothes will be replaced by your original," The voice growled.

"I don't trust you," I stammered.

"Of course not! Set down the bag or I'll kill them!" The voice spat.

I slowly set down the bag, and started briskly walking home, looking back every ten steps or so. Maybe I'll see someone grab the bag, I thought.

By the fifth time I looked back, the bag was gone. Looks like the deals are complete then. I pulled at the mask. No movement.

"I did your biddings. You took the bag. Let me go," I demanded.

"Not until you're at your home,'' the voice grunted.

So, I walked the rest of the way home, thinking of my parents and what they'd been through. I wondered how injured they'd be. Would they even be alive at this point? I started running, so I could get home faster.

The flowers surrounding the sidewalk made me sick to my stomach. How could something be living so happily while I'm miserable? I'd been wearing the same outfit for days, my parents were still gone, and I was alone. It was me against the world. The world is against me.

Obviously, I had no friends at this point. Sometimes I'd try to make small talk with the voice. They didn't seem to like it that much. I tried again on my way home.

"Can I ask you a question?" I said.

Usually the question was "what's your favorite color?" or "What's your favorite food?". This time I wanted to ask something important.

"Ask," The voice huffed.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I held back tears.

"Can I tell you a secret?" The voice seemed to change.

"Please do."

"I wish I didn't have to do this. Just like you wish you didn't have to steal the money from the locker."

"You mean, there's someone controlling you, too?" I asked.

"Yes," they whispered.

Bang!

A gunshot rang in my ears, but it was from the voice's side. Omigosh... Was he killed? Did I do something...?

"Hello?" I whimpered.

"Hello," A new, more femimine voice came into my ears.

"Where's the other guy?" I sniffled.

"Oh you're home! You're free now," The voice monotone.

I was so preoccupied, I didn't notice that I was at my house. My parents sat on the porch, crying. Cuts and bruises all over them, but no major injuries.

My father had a deep scarlet gash on his forearm I could see from where I was standing. My mother had frazzled hair, and torn up clothes. I needed to go to them.

The voice said one more thing before the mask slid off, "Please help us. Help us."

I left the mask on the ground, and made my way to my parents.

* * *

I dedicated the rest of my life to figure out what had happened. Some people declared me insane, while others believed my story.

Eventually, we found the organization and figured out who was on top. A scary looking older man. He had light skin and a bald head, tattoos covered him. His eyes didn't match the part, a soft grayish green. His eyes were so kind.

He was sentenced to death.

I visited them before they were killed. I had one question. The same question.

"Why did you do this?" I said, my voice cracking.

"I don't think you realize this, but it's already been happening for years. Social media influencers make people do things all the time, do they not?"

"You make me sick!" I spat and turned away.

He just smiled and laughed.

"The organization will be back. Just wait."

* * *

Sometimes at night I'll dream of it. I still remember the voice. How when they opened up to me, they were killed. I still remember the second voice. How they pleaded for help. I still remember the leader's words. "Just wait".

"Just wait".