Name: MARIA KRYSTINA CASSANDRA A.

YAÑEZ Section: LAMBDA

It’s Not Me

It's been a decade since Paul Collins died. He was my boyfriend, my soulmate, and my
home. Until now, his case hasn’t been resolved. I don't know if it's the police's incompetence or
if the murderer is just smart. I missed him so much. I remember how we would eat dinner
together after my check-up with my doctor and how we would watch a movie at the cinema
afterward, but that didn't happen. The pain of his death still lingers. I wanted to get the justice
he deserves. I will do anything to find the person who killed him.

One day, while I was busy cooking, there was a box that suddenly arrived at my door. I
remembered that I didn’t order anything or that someone would send me a package. I didn't
know what was inside. I got a heavy feeling about this, so I opened the box. Inside the box were
just some files about Paul's case, but underneath it was a bulky object.

I put all the files away and saw a time-turner, and attached to it was a note saying, "This
is the only thing you can use to solve the case, Simone. I hope you’ll soon find the truth about
Paul's death."

Mr. Henry Wilson, the country's best detective, gave this to me. He handled Paul's case
before he died, and his family recently found this box and mailed it to me. His death is
unknown. His family never knew who killed him, but his case is still ongoing.

First, I rotated the hand of the time machine, but nothing happened. I didn't feel those
weird feelings like the ones in the movies, and then I saw the calendar. It was December 3,
2013, the day when the cops found him dead. I saw Paul go down the stairs and after him was
me. We took the car to the hospital for my check-up. The test took so long, and I was anxious
about the result. Since I was a child, I constantly experience mood shifts and sometimes I forget
things. The doctor told us they would send the results to us within a few hours. As we walked
our way to the parking lot, he saw how cold I was and put his sweater on me. I can feel the
warmth of his sweater. It comforts me. I really love him. I wish we could be like this forever.
Our next agenda is to go to the restaurant to have dinner, but Paul insists on returning home to
shower.

After going home, Paul immediately showered. I was in the kitchen, cutting apples,
when Paul got out of the shower. Suddenly, I felt a huge rage toward him. I stabbed and
stabbed him with the knife I was holding until he was on the ground, lifeless. I fixed myself and
washed my hands. The doorbell rang unexpectedly.

"Good evening, Miss Waldron. Here's your mail from your hospital," the mailman said as
he gave me a red envelope. The envelope is so familiar. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it somewhere.

The time-turner twitches, and the next thing I know is that I'm still in my house—our
house. The house where he died. I couldn't process the whole thing. I saw myself killing my
boyfriend, and I swear I did not do such a horrible thing. How could I do that to the man I love
the most? I went inside my room and took the box. When I opened the box, I saw the red
envelope, just like the mailman had given me.

The envelope read, "Simone Waldron: Diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder."

Before I could finish reading the whole thing, the doorbell suddenly rang. It was the
cops. They showed me a CCTV footage showing me murdering Mr. Wilson.