Locked In Time

“Amir, can we just go home now?” I beg, bored of watching him play with his friends. Amir is 5, and every day, he begs me to take him to the park. I usually say yes. But today I just want to go home. Ping!... My phone lights up with a notification, and I subconsciously glance over at it. The screen reads ‘Future4U’ again. My friend Emily-being someone who falls for scams often- forced me to download this abnormal app yesterday; it’s scaring me now. I don’t know what to do. It claims to send you photos of ’your future’. Interested, I click on it, keeping an eye on Amir as I do.

It’s a picture of us in the car, showing me- long brown hair twisted into a bun- and Amir, wearing a cap and sunglasses. We are posing, my arm around his shoulders in the car, my hazel brown eyes full of love as I look at him. “Amir!” He finally turns round and starts to walk to me. “Let’s... let’s go.” He nods and we get up. I take his hand and we walk leisurely, the gravel crunching pleasantly beneath our feet as we breathe in the crisp, clean air.

The second we get home, my phone pings again. I ignore it. Amir trudges upstairs and my mum yells hi from somewhere in the kitchen. I reply, my voice forcefully enthusiastic to hide the shakiness of it. I never took that photo. I reach the safety of my room and shut the door. Hands shaking, I take my phone out, hesitating only for a millisecond, and I open Future4U. It isn’t a photo this time- it’s a note that reads, ’Guess when, Aaminah... (clue’s in the app name).’

But I never put my name in.

I’m panicking now, my breath speeds up, my face feels hot, and my hands tremble even more. I need to think this through. Surely I’m not the only one? I open Snapchat and hastily message Emily. Immediately she replies, seemingly in a panic, too. ’Aaminah I’m going to delete it. You should too.’ She writes. Then my mum calls me. “Aaminah don’t forget about the family party, we leave in 10!”. I hastily push my hair up into a ponytail and throw on my black top and jeans. I speed down the stairs and mum finds the keys and calls Amir down too. I slide on my pastel pink Converse. We leave and get into my mum’s black Volvo. Amir climbs into the back seat and grins up at me, and I struggle to return the gesture.

We arrive at a modern, detached and enormous house. This familiar house is my aunt Thalia’s. I have a certain hatred towards her for not being there for Mum like I was after... Dad died- I was never told how he died, and I don’t have the courage to ask. I could only do so much for my mum. Thalia is a secretive woman, hardly talks and completely forbids us to go in the room opposite the kitchen. The door is always locked, and I’ve never been in it. When we get in the house, everyone is already there. Amid the loud murmurs everywhere, I hear a distinct sound. Ping!... I freeze. Then, a deafening silence...

I go to the bathroom and lock the door. Click on the notification. It’s another photo, of me smiling in a room I’ve never seen before. The wallpaper consists of winding vines and flowers- a room I’ve never seen before, the ping as I reached my aunt’s house, the locked door. I rush upstairs, fumbling around, searching for a key. If I get into the room and it isn’t the same, I’ll know it’s a scam. After turning over the whole upstairs I find a key and race to the door, breathe in and push the key into the lock. It turns with a satisfying click, and I smile in triumph. I push open the door cautiously and step in as it creaks...

The walls are the same as in the photo, just as compelling. Vines twist upwards and connect to flowers. I feel a prominent sense of déjà vu, and I can practically smell the freshly blooming tulips portrayed in the intricate design. That’s it, that wallpaper. But what now? Helplessness seeps into my head, and I begin to wonder what the point of finding this was. Cutting through my thoughts like a butcher’s knife, I hear Mum call out that we’re leaving, and I head downstairs.

The next morning, Mum surprises us by saying we’ll go out. I get ready, placing my hair in an elegantly sleek bun. We get in the car, Amir practically buzzing in excitement. “Can we take pictures, Aims?” Amir begs me, showing his big doe eyes. I smile and put my arm round him, carefully maneuvering my hand behind his cap. “Smile!” I say, quickly glancing at the sunglasses he’s got on. A flash of déjà vu.

The second I press that button I realize what I’ve done.

Ping! ...

A photo of older me walking with a man in the street at night.

Ping!...

A photo of an older Aaminah with 2 young girls with distinctly alike features to me.

Ping!...

A photo of- it can’t be- Dad? With a woman who looks in her 40s, his arm around her waist. He’s wearing presumably his work uniform. His shirt reads ‘Project Manager of Future4U’. It’s only then that I look-properly- at his face, the smile too cheery, his eyes looking through the camera, searing into my soul as tears begin to form. I try to fight the oncoming tears, but they eventually win, and begin to cascade down my face.