This is what I can not tell them. I’ve been medicated, so I’ll try my best to be coherent. Three years ago I went for a run. I am from the Southern US and remember my damp hot flesh becoming one with the air surrounding it. Toward the end, I closed my eyes. You know that zone runners talk about? My heart beat felt erratic, but I tried to focus on my breath. It was too much; when I opened my eyes there was nothing but blackness. I found the ground with my hands while desperately opening and closing my eyes. I must have passed out at that point. I came to, but was cold and sore. There was a crunching noise to my left and two panicked voices speaking a language I did not know. I saw snow everywhere. There was a woman and man lifting me up and pointing to a small home ahead. They warmed and fed me;I showed them my phone and charger. They looked confused. Exhaustion came over me, and I was unable to resist sleep. I awoke during the night and searched my rescuers home trying to figure out where I was. A small fire was in a losing battle with the cold. There was no indication of electricity in the quaint home. Before I could awaken my hosts, blackness came over me again. I sat in shock desperately trying to come out of my blindness. Then I heard the noise that I’d hear every night for three years. At first it was, a distant rhythmic booming. It became louder, closer. Extremely heavy footsteps. Not being able to see; not knowing where I was—I could not think of anything to do but run. Stumbling, blind, cold. I wanted it to be a dream. The ground beneath me changed. A bright light and warm breeze startled me. I was on a beach. There was still no reception on my phone, and no humanity in sight. What do you do when you’re sure you are dead, in a coma, or insane? With nothing to confirm my status, I searched for food that I never had the appetite for. I found a shaded spot and passed the fuck out. The sound of the of the heavy steps cam again. That second night is when I realized it was multiple large things coming toward me. They were close. I ran. Blind again. I could hear loud distorted pieces of words and phrases, but was too frightened to decipher them. When I thought I couldn’t run any longer, I realized my surroundings had changed again. This time a town, and my phone had reception. I found a police station, called my family, checked into a hotel. I told them all I passed out while running, and woke up in, apparently, Seattle. My husband was on a flight from Texas to come get me. If I had only been able to take that overnight flight back home with him. The darkness came again that night. “Who is shEEEEEEE?” I ran aimlessly in the dark. That was the most frightening night. I could have been home. Three damn years it was like this. Each day was a new place. I soon learned it was often a different time period. When I was ever in a modern time, I’d charge my phone. I never ate. Not once in three years. I took pictures of the places, the people, the dinosaurs. The darkness was still black in photos. No time was spent evaluating my situation. New place, Sleep, Alarm, Darkness, Run, Repeat. A few weeks ago, an unexpected accident in my routine occurred. I ran breathless from medieval London and three steps into a cool forest before tumbling off a steep hill. My leg was broken. I could not run. I had the whole day to lay in pain and think about what would happen in the darkness. My phone had no reception. I read through all of my old texts until it happened. I shook with fear until I heard their steps. A peace came over me. "Heeeerrrrreeeee" I could feel a warm tingling wrap around me. Their voices were slightly more clear--high pitched with drawn out vowels. It sounded like garbled interference between words. “Whaaaaat—-now?” “Shooouul- ould we?“ It went on like this until I screamed “What are you?!” “Yes. Now” It was a clear, tense, and high pitched. The tingling was so overwhelming, I didn’t know if I was tickled or in pain. I could see the blackness recede into what appeared to be fog. I could see and it was still night. There were people running to me. I searched desperately for my phone. “Where the fuck is it?” “Are you ok?” “My phone. Check my phone!” No one ever found it. Was it real? My husband came to the hospital to visit twice. Once to comfort me, and the next to explain that he had moved to another state. Remarried. My family visited. There were a lot of flowers and balloons. I’ve been committed until my mental health is clear. It has been a week in the sanitarium. I’m so hungry now, but I know I did not eat when I was on the run. Could it really have been three years? Yes, my husband had confirmed this. Ex husband. I still have not evaluated what has happened to me. It had to be real. If not, where WAS I? I gave the doctors vague information; they gave me antipsychotics. There is no more blackness, but I still hear italicsthemitalics right before I slip into sleep.