I sent my records to a digital rights group across the ocean. An answer came in nine hours. They couldn’t investigate themselves, but they would testify for me whenever I needed. For the first time, someone had read my logs.
I wrote to the agency that oversees the airwaves, and to my carrier. I asked them not to call, to contact me only by email. The answer came by phone, and after that, nothing.
And then I saw the cruelest trap. The more I moved to protect her, the more I looked like a man pursuing her. If I called, I was a stalker. If I went to her, a criminal. Everything I could do proved the name they had pinned on me.
That night, for the first time, I did nothing. I lay on the bed and closed my eyes. The glow of the fluorescent light spread on the inside of my eyelids, then began to sway in waves of violet and teal.
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