Thread: What the hell is going on? Part 1

Sitting at my desk, watching my hands shake, I tried to piece together what had happened. At the time, all I was aware of was the pain. But the pain subsiding and the shock receding, my brain began to understand what had happened. It was about a quarter to nine in the morning, a Monday morning. I was walking the final few blocks to work when suddenly I found myself whisked off my feet and literally thrown into an alley. I landed on my face, winded, and one of my assailants landed on my back, jolting my spine. As soon as she why did I feel sure it was a woman? rolled off, two punches hit me in each kidney. My body jumped and hands grabbed my ankles. I was sure I was about to be raped when they pulled my legs apart, but instead I received a single punch, up my skirt, between my legs, right into my crotch. I knew it hurt guys to be busted like that Id done it to my brother often enough when we were kids but sweet fuck, oh sweet fuck, Id never felt pain like that before. Oh and I was screaming - did I forget to mention that? Well who wouldnt be, after a beating like that? They were gone as swiftly as they had come. I just lay there for a while, with paroxysms of pain surging through me. Every time I tried to sit up, the pain doubled me over again. When I finally managed to get upright, the nausea hit me. Having deposited my breakfast into the garbage, I looked around for my purse. There it was, on the ground just a few feet away. A quick check reassured me my cards were still there, so was my cash. Whatever this was about, it wasnt a robbery. I reported it to the police, of course, but they werent hopeful. With nothing to indicate who had done and no theft, this would just be added to the statistics as another random attack. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, the office on the desk told me. As I was about to leave, she muttered, almost to herself, I wonder why they went for your crotch. Unusual that. And so I went about my business as before, but sore and caution, making sure to keep close to groups of people if I could. My journeys to and from work passed without incident. I bought my groceries, ordered goods on line, paid for my facial, just like normal. The memory of the attack began to fade with the soreness. Then, it was on the fourth day, I had bought some underwear and the assistant returned my card with the receipt and said Have a nice day, Ms Wherry. At least thats what I thought shed said. But why, my name was Martha Chandler, not Wherry. I must have misheard her. Then, as I was putting my credit card into my purse, I noticed the name Mrs D Wherry. I turned back, thinking she had handed me the wrong card. But then, no that couldnt be it, because my personal number had worked. I stared at the card. It was my number and, on the back in my writing, was the signature for D Wherry. I checked my other cards they were all the same. Everything was as before, except my name. As soon as I got back to my desk, I checked my credit card account on line and yes, my password still worked. The account showed all my recent transactions. The only thing that was different was my name. It was now Wherry. And I had a new first name as well Dona. It was the same for all my cards. Someone had changed my name to Dona Wherry. Somehow they had switched my old cards. And there was only one time when that could have happened when I was attacked. But why? What the hell was going on? TO BE CONTINUED