Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 129986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
I have some new notifications, two comments calling me a whore and a slut which I promptly delete, and two new text messages.
I open the one from Dare first. It reads, “What are you doing tonight?”
“Just hanging out at home with Mom,” I answer, even though it has been a couple of hours since he sent it. “You?”
He doesn’t respond right away this time, so I close that message and go to the other one. It’s from a number I don’t have saved in my phone.
There are actually three texts. The first is a link, the second is a message, and the third appears to be a video.
I read the message first. “Hope this doesn’t happen to your mom.”
I frown, then I click the link.
My frown deepens as I read the headline and first few lines of the article to realize it’s a news story about a morgue employee who was discovered having sex with one of the corpses in his care.
Nausea grips me, but I ignore it and the warning not to and click the video.
It shows a man in a white uniform running his hand up the motionless leg of a woman on a metal table, then touching her bare belly. It cuts to a new scene and the sounds of metallic creaking blare out of my phone. Startled and sickened at the same time, I silence my phone, but I can’t look away from the horrifying video of a morgue-worker raping a corpse with my mother’s face photoshopped onto it.
I throw the phone across the counter without thought, just wanting to get it away from me. The video is still playing, so once I’m sure I won’t throw up, I grab my phone and turn it off.
What the actual fuck?
Furious and sick to my stomach, I try to think what to do. I don’t know. My hands are shaking. I don’t want the video in my phone, but I save it and send it to Dare with the message, “Did Anae send this to me?”
I can’t believe anyone would send that to anybody, but I don’t know who else dislikes me enough to do something not only so cruel, but so fucking disgusting.
I was in the middle of preparing dinner, but I’m no longer hungry. I brace myself on the edge of the counter, closing my eyes and trying to keep down the bile.
I go back to the message and take a screenshot of the number before I block it. It’s not Anae’s number, but when I open the browser on my phone and try to look it up, it registers as a mobile number in Baymont, CA. Not exactly helpful.
On second thought, I unblock the number and call it.
No one answers, and the automated voicemail gives me no clue as to who it is. I leave a voice mail anyway because I’m angry. “You are a sick fuck and you deserve to die alone.”
I end the call and put down the phone, my heart hammering in my chest.
Chapter twenty-one
Dare
“What the fuck is this?”
Anae is lounging by the pool at her house, her long blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail, and a pair of Chanel sunglasses on her face as she reads a book for school.
She glances over at me, then down at the fucked up video I’m watching on my phone. “Cinematic genius,” she offers.
“Was this you?”
She shrugs daintily. “Maybe.”
“Are you insane?”
“I made sure it couldn’t be traced back to me,” she assures me. “I told you before, the school stuff didn’t seem to be penetrating her skin, but when you told me about her mom, I realized I just needed to attack from a different angle.”
I shake my head, not even knowing what to type back. “Don’t do shit like this anymore. You delegated her to me. I’ll handle her. You calm the fuck down.”
Anae pouts. “But it’s fun.”
“Did you write that fucking haiku, too?”
Her frown is legit. “Haiku?”
I shake my head, looking down at the phone. “Never mind.”
I have a few of my most trusted nerd soldiers investigating who’s behind the haiku, but I haven’t heard anything yet. I’m kind of glad it wasn’t Anae.
Deleting the video off the chain of messages, I tell her, “Don’t taunt her about her dying mom anymore. That’s low, even for you.”
“Oh, come on,” she says as if I’m being unreasonable. “She deserves it.”
“Does she?” I look over at her. “You never even told me what provoked all this?”
It must be something stupid because she shifts in the seat, adjusts her tits to try and distract me, and looks out at the shimmering pool water. “I told you, she crossed me. It doesn’t matter what it was, she was snotty to me and she needs to learn her place.”
“Seems a lot of energy to expend on someone who seems perfectly nice to me. Are you sure you’re not overreacting?”