It starts with your phone. Small things at first: a setting that changed on its own, an app you don’t remember installing, a battery that drains too fast.
Then the alerts begin. “Your password was changed.” You try to sign in. Your password doesn’t work.
Your phone lights up with more alerts—a new sign-in from a city you have never visited, and a recovery address you don’t recognise.
Everything saved on that phone—passwords, photos, messages, the names of the people you love—suddenly feels like it is working against you.
You try to take back your email. The verification code never arrives. Then your phone stops working altogether: no signal, no calls. Your number no longer feels like yours.
You buy a new phone. For a day, it feels like a fresh start. Then a familiar alert appears.
Nothing you sign into holds. Logins fail. New accounts are hard to create, and the ones you manage to make don’t last—they disappear, or they are taken again. Each one closes another door.
You reach out for help from any device you can find. You write, and you wait. No one answers.
Days pass. The feeling doesn’t. A slow website, a wrong number, a car parked outside a little too long. Ordinary things start to feel planned. Even the phone on the table feels like it is watching.
You try to explain it to the people closest to you. They exchange a look. Someone asks if you have been sleeping. You stop bringing it up.
The incident was real. Now you are carrying it alone.
Stay with that for a moment. Notice what you feel: fear, anger, shame, loneliness, or something else entirely.