How Does Chasing History: A Kid In The Newsroom End?

In my third year working overseas as a war correspondent, a grenade blast left me wounded and stripped me of my memories. The PTSD that followed was severe enough to keep me in a psychiatric hospital for two years. It wasn't until two months ago that I finally remembered who I was. The day I came home, my best friend and my husband met me at the airport, both of them crying harder than I was. Russell Ellison's eyes were red-rimmed, but his voice was as gentle as ever. "The new place is all set up. Move in for now. I'll come keep you company after work." I went back to our old house instead. The moment I pushed the door open, I saw a wedding photo hanging on the wall. The bride in it wasn't me. It was my best friend. A key turned in the lock outside. The man who was supposed to be buried in work at the office walked in, fingers laced with hers. A child was tucked against his chest, calling him "Daddy" in a small, unsteady voice. I stood frozen, too stunned to breathe. We'd only been apart for two years. So how was their child already three?

On the day we take our graduation photos, Mom and Dad hold up their cameras, snapping countless pictures of my boyfriend and my best friend. In the viewfinder, the two of them lean in close while my parents watch on with proud, beaming smiles, despite my being their biological daughter and the girl Gavin has been dating for the last four years. I stand off in the corner, clad in my cap and gown, waiting for what feels like an eternity, but Mom never once beckons me over to join them. Once Charlotte finishes her photoshoot, she mentions that she still hasn't lined up a decent job yet. Gavin completely forgets I'm even there and instantly leans in to comfort her. "Why don't you come work at the company I just joined? That way, I can look out for you." Dad nods right along in agreement. "Send me a copy of your resume, Lottie. I'll ask around for you. You shouldn't have to settle, especially when it's your first real job." Nolan walks over carrying a bottle of ice water, but he passes it to Charlotte. "Don't sweat the job hunt, Lottie," he says. "My company's hiring. I'll get you an internal referral." It's only when they catch sight of my hand freezing midair that everyone finally remembers that I'm standing right next to them. "Natalie, you should just find a random job and get on with it," Nolan says. Mom chimes in, "Exactly. You didn't major in anything special, so you should be grateful if a company even wants you. Stop being so picky." As Gavin scrolls through the gallery on his phone, his brow suddenly furrows into a frown. "Natalie's blocking Lottie in this one. I'm deleting it." But out of nearly 400 pictures, that's the only one where I exist. I stand off to the side, my hands tightening into fists. It turns out it isn't a matter of them failing to see me. They see me perfectly fine. They just think I'm a nuisance. It's as if Charlotte is their actual daughter, and my boyfriend belongs right by her side. If that's how it's going to be, then I'm taking the job farthest away from home, and I'm never coming back.

My sister-in-law, Alicia, insisted that her son was a chosen fighter, blessed by God and immune to harm. The truth was far darker: every injury meant for him was being transferred onto my daughter. His congenital heart disease disappeared overnight. While most children his age were still carefully protected, he was already taking part in extreme sports and never suffered so much as a scratch. Meanwhile, my once-healthy daughter weakened day by day. She began to suffer unexplained fractures throughout her body. There was not a single place left uninjured. It was impossible not to see the connection. When I voiced my suspicions to my husband, Jeff Charlton, and my mother-in-law, Kelly Freeman, they dismissed me as delusional. They accused me of being jealous that Alicia had given birth to a prodigy, while I had nothing but a "worthless" daughter. Later, Alicia's son completed a trek across the Saharain Desert and became an overnight sensation, a child star adored by millions. At the same time, my daughter suddenly collapsed from heatstroke and died without warning. Alicia went live on her platform, accusing me of making false claims out of envy. Her followers believed every word. They hunted me down and ended my life. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the moment Alicia first proclaimed her son a miracle child. This time, I was no longer a powerless mother. As a specialist doctor, I calmly pulled on my gloves. "Alicia," I said with a smile, "Let me examine my nephew and see if he's truly cured."

One photo. Two golden boys. A truth that could destroy everything they've built. Everyone thinks they know me - Perfect grades, perfect girlfriend, student council, perfect future. But it's all a lie to hide who I really am. Until my past caught up with me. Until Chris Moore turns up at summer camp and appears in school on the first day. Until a photo was pinned on my locker on the first day of school — a photo of me staring at Chris across the summer bonfire. And an anonymous note: “I know who you are looking at.” Now my lies are crumbling. The perfect life I built is cracking. And I can't keep pretending. With Chris back in my life, the feelings I buried for two years refuse to stay hidden. Someone is watching. Someone knows my secret. And if the truth comes out, I don't just lose my perfect life. I lose everything.

After our last mock exam, the whole class went to a karaoke lounge to celebrate. A video suddenly appeared on my phone, supposedly sent by Mason Blackwell ten years in the future. Mason and I had grown up together for over a decade, and I'd secretly loved him for five. In the video, he wore a suit, his familiar face softened by a tenderness I'd never seen before. "Hannah, I'm getting married. "To Paige Monroe." The next second, class beauty Paige linked her arm through his, their fingers intertwined. "Hope you find your true love soon." The video ended. The black screen reflected my reddened eyes. I splashed water on my face and went back into the private room. The moment I walked in, everyone turned to stare. Paige stood up with a bright smile and announced into the microphone, "See? I told you she'd cry!" The room erupted in laughter. Mason rose with a frown, swept a cold look across the room, and said, "Knock it off." He walked over and looked down at me, a trace of nervousness in his voice. "Paige asked me to make that video. Her grades improved this time, so it was her reward. Don't read into it." Behind him, Paige added with a laugh, "It was just a joke. Don't tell me you can't take one?" I stood there, staring at the face I'd secretly loved for five years, and said nothing. The video really was a joke. But ten years later, they truly did get married. Because I'd come back from ten years in the future.

I ranked 32nd in the entire state on the SATs, but I failed the security clearance. The reason? Someone reported that an immediate family member of mine had a serious criminal record. My dad rushed to check the files that night, only to be told, "The information has been verified and cannot be changed." My mom took my application file to appeal, but was turned away at the door. Then one phone call from the admissions office, and my early admission application was voided—just like that. In the end, I stayed in front of the school gate for three days and three nights, until it finally caught national attention. A school administrator walked over with a report and told me that even if it was a close relative with a criminal record, there was nothing they could do. I stood up shakily and pulled out a certificate of military honors and an orphan adoption certificate. "But I'm the orphan of a fallen hero!"