Page 45 of Taste of Addiction

“Software or just hardware?” Graham asks Nic.

“Looks to be both. But I need more time to diagnose that.”

Graham frowns and then walks over to kiss my forehead.

“What’s going on?” I demand.

“Someone has installed or got you to install malware on your laptop that keeps track of your keystrokes. Whenever you type something into a document, on Google, or in your email,” he says with a sigh, pausing to most likely think how to word a complex topic to someone who knows very little about it. “Basically, any time you use your keyboard to press keys, the malware sends back information to the malicious person on what you are typing. They can see everything. Documents you have typed, email, social media posts, etcetera.”

“Why would someone even care?”

“Maybe to gain access to your accounts. Passwords in general. Anything.”

“Shit,” I exhale. “But it is safe to say my work stored on my laptop is gone?”

“Yes,” Nic interjects. “You said you sent yourself some email.”

“Yeah, I guess I can log into my accounts and try to rush writing my article.”

“When is it due?” Graham asks.

“Tomorrow morning.”

He rubs his hands over his forehead. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Let’s just hope I can get into my email. I can whip something together,” I say, my voice breaking. I sniffle. Who am I fooling? Even with the email, I would have to spend the entire night trying to organize all of my information. I feel the bile rising in my throat. There is no way I can recreate the authentic nature of what I already produced. Writing is organic and unique in that aspect. That is why saving your work is so damn important.

And I did save it, in two different locations.

The research, the graphics, the video footage, the special elements I added to the journalism template. Everything I saved is gone. How can this be happening to me?

I watch as Nic cleans up his cables and stuffs them back into his book bag.

“Angie?” he says softly.

“Yeah?”

“Can you log into your email accounts on your phone and see if you can get in? If you can’t, then we know that the person who is doing this to you has already made a move. If you can get in, we need to change all of your passwords.”

I nod and grab my phone. I go to the host site for my victims email account and type in my address. Next, I put in my password. I clicksign in. Nothing. I double check the address, making sure I didn’t accidentally hit the wrong key. Then I methodically type in the password.

Denied.

I try my Bad Advice email account.

Denied.

I try my personal account.

Denied.

The secret account I was emailing myself voice recordings.

Denied.

“Fuck!” I yell, whipping my phone across the room. “I’m blocked out of all of my accounts. All of them. Do you guys even know what this means for me? Well, let me enlighten you… My future career is basically gone if I can’t even freaking graduate with the degree I want!” Nic and Graham make eye contact with each other, and I spring up from the couch as if my butt is on fire. “Did you guys sabotage me?”

“What? No!” Graham yells. “Why would you even ask that?"

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