[ TT ] You 're stopped at a rundown gas station in the middle of nowhere . You go into the bathroom , and look along the wall , seeing phone numbers . One catches your eye , your own ...

**303-43X-XXXX** 
 
 Christina Smith's number was the first to be written on the cold cement wall of the gas station bathroom. The black sharpied digits hung beneath the buzzing overhead light like bats in a cave, alone on their perches save the long floor-to-ceiling crack that bisected them. They watched visitors come and go and remained largely unnoticed. Three weeks later, Christina's body was found in the Arkansas River, just downstream of Leadville, wrapped in a black garbage bag. Her left hand was missing. 
 
 **406-58X-XXXX** 
 
 Hailey Carpenter's cell number perched just below Christina's, each digit perfectly in line with it's respective mate above it. The handwriting was neat and deliberate. Straight lines always done top-down and left-to-right. The curves could have been done by machine if you did n't know better. A trio of hikers found Hailey when they wandered off the path leading to Hidden Lake. The black garbage bag was suspended from a tall cedar with climber's rope. Hailey was missing her left foot. 
 
 **805-93X-XXXX** 
 
 The ten assigned to Catelynn Brueckner sat below Hailey's, again perfectly aligned. The cashier on duty paused as she passed them, noting their curious uniformity and precision. She shrugged as she closed the door of the stall behind her and settled in. 
 
 I found Catelynn naked in Shoreline Park. She staggered towards me in the late evening dark, illuminated by a sidewalk lamp. She let her right arm hang limp at her side. A black garbage bag was tied tight around her wrist, substituting a hand. Catelynn now rests at the West Francis Institute, unwilling to speak. In the mornings her eyes meander to the window and grow wide, as if she were seeing a terrible vision. 
 
 I can only assume my number was written on that god-forsaken bathroom stall after I found Catelynn. I was driving east through Wyoming when I stopped at the gas station and swung back the rusty door to the women's room. I was washing my hands when my eyes locked onto the forty black digits behind me as I glanced at the mirror.
