Go Ahead Steal My Nightmare

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I woke up exactly twenty-four hours before Kaylee stole my Social Security card and my passport to marry Hunter Valentine.

In her head, she thought shed hit the jackpot with some billionaires son she met on a gaming Discord. She wanted to lock him down, take a cut of the family fortune, and disappear. So, she swiped my identity to tie the knot.

What she didnt know was that Hunter wasnt a prince. He was a bottom-feeding fraud.

When the "glamorous" life didnt materialize, she ditched him and vanished into the night. But Hunter didnt go looking for Kaylee. He came looking for me. He had the marriage license with my name on it. Hed seen photos of Kaylee, and since we shared the same build and shed spent months meticulously mimicking my style, he thought I was her.

The first time he found me on campus, he didnt ask questions. He nearly broke my jaw.

He dragged my reputation through the dirt, calling me a "cheating whore" to anyone who would listen. When the Dean tried to intervene, Hunter produced the marriage certificatemy name, my legal info, and a photo that looked enough like me to pass. The university, terrified of a "domestic dispute" lawsuit, stood by as he dragged me off campus.

He took me to his "hometown"a decaying, isolated trailer park deep in the Appalachian wilderness, miles from the nearest paved road.

For months, I was his property. I was forced into his bed. My life became a cycle of bruises, silence, and survival. Even when I was pregnant, the beatings didnt stop.

I died on a blood-soaked mattress during a botched home birth, the smell of copper and pine needles the last things I knew.

Then, I blinked.

The air was no longer stale and rotting; it smelled like cheap vanilla body spray and overpriced laundry detergent. I was back in the dorm.

Tara, babe, can I borrow your ID for a sec? The mall is doing this VIP membership thing where you get a free skincare set if you sign up. If I use yours, I can double up on the points.

I was still shaking, my nerves raw from the phantom pain of the mountains. My mouth moved before my brain could catch up.

No.

God, okay. Stingy much?

I looked at Kaylee. She was pouting, adjusting her eyeliner in the mirror. In my previous life, she had stayed hidden for years to avoid Hunter. Looking at her now, I felt a surge of hatred so violent I thought I might actually get sick.

She didnt notice. She was too busy perfecting her "it girl" facade.

Whatever. Im going to dinner with my boyfriend anyway, she said, flashing a smug smile. Its a five-star place. I was going to offer to take you guys sometime so you could actually see how the other half lives, but I guess youre too busy clutching your precious ID like its a bar of gold. So suburban.

She grabbed her designer knock-off bag and strutted out.

She was going to meet Hunter.

I sat on the edge of my bed for a long minute, then grabbed my phone and left. I found a number from one of those "Specialty Printing" flyers tucked under a windshield wiper near the campus edge. I called. They told me they could handle "novelty" documents for a price.

I went into the class directory, pulled Kaylees information, and slightly tweaked my own name. Instead of Tara Jean Harlow, I became Tara Jane Harlowe. Just enough to be different, but close enough to be a "clerical error."

Kaylee had spent the last year becoming my shadow. She wore the same brands, cut her hair into the same blunt bob, and even mastered my specific way of walking. From behind, even our friends couldn't tell us apart.

I took a digital photo of myself, edited out my signature beauty mark near my eye, and softened my features to look more like Kaylees softer, rounder face. It was a hybrid. It could be me. It could be her.

I paid triple for the rush job. The next morning, I had a "new" ID in my hand.

Kaylee didnt come back that night. She was likely basking in the glow of her "billionaire" boyfriends lies.

I followed my usual routine. I went to the library, leaving my wallet in my unlocked desk drawer.

That evening, when I returned with my roommate Becca, I "discovered" my ID was gone.

Kaylee wasn't as smart as she thought she was. She hadn't even checked the numbers. She didn't realize shed stolen a ghosts identity.

2.

For the next two months, I was a ghost.

I was never alone. I was always with Beccaclasses, the dining hall, the gym, the library. I made sure to mention, repeatedly and loudly, how traditional my parents were and that I wasnt interested in dating until after graduation.

Kaylee, meanwhile, was rarely on campus. She skipped classes, relying on a girl named Nataliewhom shed bribed with a used Gucci beltto check her into lectures.

Then, one day, Kaylee suddenly reappeared. She was back in the dorm, acting "normal." I knew the honeymoon was over.

I immediately filed for a week-long emergency leave, telling the administration my mother was having surgery. In my last life, Mom actually did have a minor procedure around this time, but they hadn't told me because they didn't want me to worry. This time, I wasn't going to be a victim of Hunter's arrival. I was going home to be her shield.

On my third day home, Becca called me, her voice frantic.

Tara, you need to get back here. Theres some guy on campus... hes going crazy. Hes asking everyone where you are. Hes telling people hes your husband.

My heart did a slow, heavy thud. It had begun.

Husband? Becca, youve been with me 24/7 for months. You know I don't even have a boyfriend.

I know that! But hes telling everyone youre a total sociopath. He says youre a gold-digger who cheated on him and ran off with his money. Its getting ugly, Tara.

I felt a wave of warmth for Becca. In a world of chaos, she was the only one who truly saw me.

Are you sure its me hes looking for? I asked, playing it cool. There are thousands of students here. Maybe its someone else with a similar name?

Maybe... look, Ill check the campus Discord and see if I can get a full name. Ill try to clear your name, babe.

I hung up and opened the campus "Tea" thread. It was a bloodbath.

Spotted: The campus sweetheart is actually a black widow. Poor guy got played for every cent.

The post was detailed. My major, my year, my dorm. The OP wrote with a strange, vicarious rage, painting a picture of a predatory woman who had seduced and abandoned a "good man." The comments were exactly what youd expect from the internet.

Always the quiet ones. Probably a pro at faking it.

Married before graduation? Trash.

Gold diggers deserve whatever they get. Hope he finds her.

A few girls tried to defend me.

This guy has zero proof. Youre all just looking for a reason to hate a pretty girl.

I bet hes just a stalker. Yall are gullible.

Then came the "proof."

I saw the marriage license. Its real. Name, photo, everything.

Shes not just a cheat; shes a scammer. Hes suicidal because she drained his accounts.

The Black Widow of the Econ Dept.

Someone eventually posted a blurry photo of the license.

Just got this from the guy himself. Real deal. Real name. Real bitch.

My classmates chimed in:

Wait, isnt she the one who said she was traditional? Guess that meant traditionally deceptive.

If you have enough money, shell marry you too, I guess.

Finally, I saw Beccas handle pop up in the sea of hate: You idiots, look at the name on the ID! Thats not how Tara Jean spells it! Use your eyes!

Her comment was buried within seconds.

It didn't matter. They didn't want the truth. They wanted a villain to burn.

3.

When my week was up, I walked back onto campus.

My advisor had left me a dozen voicemails, demanding I come in to "resolve the situation." I told her over the phone I had no idea who this man was.

Regardless, Tara, you have to handle this, shed snapped. Why would he pick you to lie about if theres no connection?

I walked into the Dean of Students office.

A moment later, I heard heavy, aggressive footsteps in the hallway.

You finally found her? Or were you too busy protecting this little slut?

The door swung open. I turned around and saw the face of my nightmares.

Hunter.

The second his eyes landed on me, he lunged. His hand flew up, a reflex of pure, unadulterated violence. I didn't flinch. I glared at him with a coldness that made him hesitate for a fraction of a second.

Crack.

The slap sent my head spinning. My ear rang, and my cheek went numb, replaced instantly by a throbbing heat.

Then came the flurry of fists.

Bitch! You thought you could run? Thought I wouldn't find you?

Looking at me like that... after you bled me dry!

You cut your hair? You think that changes anything? I remember how you looked when you were begging for it.

Told me you were gonna drop out and be a good little housewife, then you ghost me? Not a chance.

I doubled over, the familiar agony of his strikes echoing through my bones. I wanted to scream, to tell him he had the wrong woman. But I waited.

Stop! Someone call security! the Dean screamed, finally realizing this wasn't just a "talk."

Hunter stopped, chest heaving, looking around the room with a terrifying sense of entitlement.

This is a domestic matter, he spat. Im her husband. I can do whatever I want. The cops cant touch me for disciplining my own wife.

And you, he pointed at the Dean, youre harboring a fugitive. Does she sleep with you, too? Is that how she stays enrolled?

The Dean went pale, the bravado of an academic failing in the face of a backwoods brawler.

Hunter took the silence as a victory. Im here to withdraw my wife from this school. Were going home.

I forced myself upright, trembling, and pulled out my phone.

What are you doing, you little bitch?

Before he could grab it, I hit the emergency dial.

911. Im at the University, Deans Office. Im being assaulted and theres a man trying to kidnap me. His name is Hunter Valentine. Please, help! Third floor, Miller Hall! Help me!

Youre dead! Hunter lunged, snatching the phone and smashing it against the floor. He backhanded me again for good measure.

I looked at the shattered remains of my phone and smiled through the blood in my mouth.

You think a fake marriage license gives you the right to traffic women? I whispered. I dont even know your name.

The school might be stupid enough to fall for your act, Hunter. But the police wont be.

I scrambled behind my advisor. Dr. Miller, if you let him take me before the cops get here, youre an accomplice.

Hunter tried to reach for me, but Dr. Miller finally stepped in, getting shoved for his trouble.

Youre all in on it! Hunter roared. Shes a whore, and youre all her johns!

When the police burst in ten minutes later, they found Hunter standing in the middle of the room, shouting about how much hed paid for "each session" with me.

Im telling you, 200 bucks a pop! Thats the student rate!

Is this a domestic dispute or a racketeering operation? one of the officers asked, his hand on his holster.