Alexa Miller, 19, a College Student home for the summer.

I know… you can make any joke you want, I’ve heard them all already.

I was twelve when Amazon released that stupid talking assistant – too old for my parents to find an excuse to change my name, and too young to really understand why everyone at school had suddenly started making jokes about me.

I tried not to let my name define me, which is ironic considering… Instead I just tried to be myself, get good grades, and make good friends. Was I bullied for my name? Not really – in fact, beyond a few passing comments in high school my life was just like anyone else’s…I was normal…

Of course, the popularity of my name plummeted after that – and maybe in the end that was a positive thing as it probably saved even more girls from my fate…

Of all the places I could’ve been, I was naked when it happened. I was back from college for the summer, luxuriating in the powerful jets of my parents designer shower and singing to myself…

It wasn’t like a wave, or a rush, or anything. There was no sound or fanfare, nothing was announced... it just… happened.

One minute everything was normal, and the next, it wasn’t. Or, rather, what normal was was replaced by a different normal.

There was just the sudden knowledge that I wasn’t a person anymore. I mean, I was still me, I didn’t feel any different. But I suddenly knew that I no longer had rights, I was effectively, an object. I froze in place, a wave of adrenalin flooding through me. Where the shower had been red hot just a moment ago, I now felt ice in my veins.

“Wait… what?” I gasped to myself, my voice echoing against the tiles in the steam filled room.

The shock froze me still and it took me several long, agonising minutes to convince myself to move. In that moment, standing naked and alone, I’d never felt more ****.

I shut off the jets and stepped out, as though turning off the sound of the shower would protect me, help me hide from the reality of the situation somehow. I wrapped my nude body in a large fluffy white towel, my bare feet sinking into the soft mat as I curled my toes anxiously. I clutched my auburn hair, almost slick black from the shower, to my shoulder and paced the room with growing horror.

“I’m not a person” I mewled, my cheeks flushing pink. I wanted to phrase it as a question but I couldn't. Did anyone else know? What had just happened? How had this happened? It was insane and yet I knew that it was true… and there was nothing I could do about it.

My primal brain was in full meltdown; Run? Or Hide? Neither felt like real options and I couldn’t stay in that bathroom for the rest of my life… the door didn’t even have a lock!

All I could think to do was get help, and hope that my parents would help me or protect me until I could figure out what had just happened to me. Maybe no one else knew... maybe I could hide or just pretend... I could just pretend everything was still the same... right?

No one would have to know.

I listened at the door, my stomach tied in knots with a foreboding sense of danger looming over me. My parents were up, but it sounded like they were both downstairs - I could hear my Dad talking to someone in the kitchen. He would be getting ready for work any minute - and mom would probably be distracted with chores and trying to coax my 18 year old twin siblings Ben and Megan out the door to highschool.

I’d walked to the bathroom with just this towel… I had nothing else to cover myself with. In that moment I really, really wanted to get dressed. Being naked only made my sense of vulnerability increase.

I took several deep breaths. Trying not to plan too far ahead – all I needed to do was open the door, walk down the hall and get back to my room. I could get my clothes, get dressed and then figure out a plan… something to get out of this… There must be instructions online for how to change your name, all I had to do was fill in some form and wait... right?

I didn't need to be Alexa anymore... I could be Alex, or Alexis or Jane for all I cared. I just knew that if I wanted any chance of being a person again I really really needed to not be called Alexa anymore.

Heart pounding, I opened the bathroom door – trying to stay calm, trying to just pretend everything was normal. I stepped out, my bare feet, still wet from the shower, padded with soft little slaps against the cold, hard wood landing.

“Oh”

My mother’s voice so close behind me made me squeal and I spun around, clutching the towel to myself in shock. She was standing with a laundry basket under one arm, her eyes fixed to where the towel was tied at my chest.

“M-mom! You … you made me… you … you surprised me…” I gasped pitifully, biting my bottom lip as I got the immediate and uneasy sensation that she knew something was wrong.

She was looking at me like you’d look at like, well… like something that was out of place. Her ‘oh’, wasn’t one of surprise or shock; it was the sort of disappointed sound someone would make if they opened the refrigerator to find they were out of orange juice.

And then she sighed… like she hadn’t heard what I’d said or was ignoring me, before glancing between me and the fresh laundry she was carrying. I recognised several of the items on top as mine.

“Great – so this was a complete waste of my time then” She said pointedly.

I took a tentative step back from her, the edge to her voice made my heart leap into my chest.

“I don’t… understand…” I tried weakly, only to earn another frustrated sigh from my mother.

“Do you think I do the laundry for fun? What was the point of me putting all of these through the wash if they’re never going to get worn?”

“M-mom… please… something’s happened…” I tried, my panic rising.

“I can see that” she snapped, dropping the basket to the floor and folding her arms, “I really do not have time for this today”

“Mom…”

“Alexa, get downstairs” She ordered in the same firm authoritative voice I’d heard in my mother all throughout my childhood. It was a voice she hadn't used on me in years, and yet, it still sent some primal fear up my spine. I took another step away from her, my bare feet squeaking as I continued to drip on the hardwood floor. The sound drew her eyes to the puddle beneath me, and I watched her face turn from frustrated to furious.

I froze. My mom was a neat-freak - she despised mess or clutter of any kind. Everything in the house had a purpose and a place, and if it wasn't useful, she'd clear it out. The fact that I was leaving a puddle on her hardwood floor was only ever going to provoke one reaction...

“ALEXA, GET DOWNSTAIRS, NOW!” She barked as she stared angrily at the wet footprints I’d left on the floor.

Terrified, humiliated and helpless, I weighed up making a run for my room, or obeying…