Title

I only have ten minutes. No time for a title. I’m not rereading this, I’m not fixing anything, I’m just writing and watching the time because if I slow down I won’t finish.

Every day at exactly 10:00 PM, I regain control of my body.

At exactly 10:10 PM, I lose it.

There’s no fade, no warning, no gradual loss. One second I can move, the next I can’t. But I don’t black out. I don’t disappear. I am fully conscious the entire time. I see everything, hear everything, feel everything.

I just don’t decide any of it.

The first time it happened, I thought I was having some kind of neurological episode. I was in bed scrolling on my phone and I couldn’t stop. My thumb kept moving. I tried to drop it—nothing. I tried to sit up—nothing.

Then I sat up anyway.

My body walked me to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, drank it, set it down. Completely normal. No shaking, no hesitation.

If someone had been there, they wouldn’t have noticed anything wrong.

At 10:00 PM, I dropped the glass. Just let go. It shattered and I finally moved again. I remember staring at my hands like they didn’t belong to me.

I checked the time.

10:01 PM.

That was the first window.

The next day, I tested it.

At 10:00 PM, I grabbed a pen and wrote as fast as I could: “I am not in control of my body except for 10 minutes at 10 PM. Something is wrong. Please help me.”

I left it on the table and waited.

10:10 PM, my hand moved. Calm. Controlled. I picked up the note, read it, and tore it apart. No hesitation. No confusion.

Just… fixing something that shouldn’t be there.

So I tried something faster.

Texting.

The next day, the second I got control, I grabbed my phone and sent messages to my mom, my dad, my sister. I didn’t think about wording, I just typed: “Something is controlling me. I only have 10 minutes at 10 PM. Please come check on me. This is serious.”

I sent them all.

Then I waited.

10:10 PM. Gone again.

The next day, they came.

I watched everything.

My mom knocked first. My body walked to the door and opened it like nothing was wrong. She looked scared. My dad stood behind her, trying not to show it.

They asked if I was okay.

My mouth smiled. A little confused. A little embarrassed.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think I had a panic attack last night.”

I remember hearing it and trying to stop it, but I couldn’t.

“I don’t know why I sent those texts,” I added. “I think I just freaked out.”

They asked if I was sure.

I reassured them. Calm. Normal. Even laughed a little like I was embarrassed they came over.

They believed it.

They left.

I felt every word leave my mouth. Perfect tone. Perfect timing. There was nothing in it that would make someone question it.

That’s when I realized this thing doesn’t just control me. It plays me.

After that, I tried calling the police. Same idea. I told them to come before 10:10.

They didn’t make it in time.

When they arrived, I told them it was a misunderstanding. Panic attack. Stress. They accepted it and left.

Everything it says makes sense.

I’m at 10:04.

I started looking for patterns because I needed something I could understand.

It follows my routine perfectly. Work, conversations, everything. No one has noticed anything wrong. No one treats me differently.

If anything, I might be acting more normal than usual.

But there are small things.

Gaps.

Inconsistencies.

The biggest one is how it handles anything I try to leave behind.

I tried emailing myself. At 10:00 PM I opened my laptop and wrote everything out. Sent it to a new email I created on the spot.

The next day, I watched as my body opened the laptop, logged in, read the email, and deleted it.

Then emptied the trash.

Clean.

I tried posting online from my usual accounts. Same result. It logs in, deletes the posts, changes passwords sometimes. It closes everything I open.

It cleans up after me.

Systematically.

Like it’s done this before.

I’m at 10:05.

Around day four, I came back at 10:00 PM and there was a bag on my table. I didn’t remember buying anything, but I remembered being in a hardware store earlier.

Inside: wires, a timer, batteries.

At first, I didn’t understand.

Then more things started appearing.

Tools.

Components.

Pieces that clearly fit together.

I tried throwing them out. One night I grabbed everything and dumped it outside as far as I could, then locked the door and sat there.

10:10 PM.

My body stood up immediately, went outside, picked everything up, and brought it back in.

No searching.

No hesitation.

Like it already knew where everything was.

So I tested that.

I hid a small piece the next night. Somewhere that would take time to find.

When I lost control, my body paused for a few seconds. Then turned, walked directly to the hiding spot, picked it up, and went back.

No checking anywhere else.

It knew.

Not reacted.

Knew.

I’m at 10:06.

So I stopped trying to interfere directly. It didn’t work. It just corrected whatever I did.

Instead, I started watching.

The structure it’s building isn’t random. Even I can tell that. The wiring, the timer, the placement—it’s careful.

Intentional.

It’s not guessing.

It knows exactly what it’s making.

A few days ago, I understood what it was.

It’s a bomb.

I don’t know the exact type, but I know enough to recognize it.

Today, something changed.

This morning, my body packed a bag. Carefully. Placed everything inside. Secured it.

Then it went to work like normal.

Talked to people. Sat in meetings. Acted exactly like me.

And I noticed something I hadn’t before.

Reflections.

Windows, screens, anything reflective.

When I catch a glimpse, I can tell where “I’m” looking.

And it wasn’t random.

It was scanning.

Entrances. Exits. People.

Like it was memorizing the space.

I’m at 10:08.

I think I understand enough now.

It lives my life because it needs access to my routine. It removes anything I try to leave behind. It anticipates interference before I even do it.

And it’s building something that needs to be placed somewhere I would naturally be.

I work in a large building.

Hundreds of people.

Same place every day.

Same time.

Same routine.

I think tomorrow is when it finishes.

I don’t know why this started. There wasn’t an event. No warning. One day I had control, and the next I didn’t.

I have less than a minute.

So here’s the only reason this might stay up.

This account—I don’t know the login.

I found it already signed in earlier today while I was at work. I don’t remember ever making it. No saved passwords on my phone. No record of it anywhere I checked.

Which means when I lose control, it won’t be able to log back in to delete this.

I’m going to post this and log out before 10:10.

If I’m right, this stays.

If I’m wrong, it disappears like everything else.

10:09.

My hands are slowing down.

This should go up at 10:09 local time. Comment any ideas you have I will access this post tomorrow.