Chapter 4
525words
"Holy shit, that's definitely Evelyn Carter!"
"As if she has a chance!"
"Talk about reaching above your station."
"Pathetic stalker much?"
The comments section swelled to hundreds of posts, each one more vicious than the last.
I didn't own a phone, but that didn't matter—my desk became a repository for folded notes filled with hate.
"Do everyone a favor and kill yourself."
"Get out of our school, you welfare case."
"Stop wasting oxygen that actual humans could use."
I snuck into the computer lab during lunch and read every single comment, each word cutting deeper than the last.
My hands trembled over the keyboard. I wanted to defend myself, to explain I wasn't stalking anyone.
But my one attempt at explanation just triggered an avalanche of fresh insults.
I deleted my account and retreated further into my shell.
But the digital harassment spilled into real life.
In the hallways, whispers followed me: "That's her—the stalker obsessed with Lucas."
In the cafeteria, trays "accidentally" dumped onto my clothes.
The bathroom stalls became billboards for my humiliation: "Evelyn Carter = Pathetic Slut" and "Trash Girl Needs To Die."
I became prey, hunted from all sides.
And Sophia?
She played the concerned friend masterfully.
"Evelyn, are you okay? People are being so cruel online."
"Don't listen to them, Evelyn. I know you're not actually a stalker."
"Let me know if you need anything, okay?"
Each fake word of concern made me sick to my stomach.
I knew she was behind the post.
The writing style matched her posts in our class chat, and the IP address traced back to the computer she always used.
But I had no concrete proof, and even if I did, who would believe me over her?
So I endured.
Until I ran into Lucas Harrison in an empty hallway after school.
He was just standing there, leaning against his locker.
I summoned every ounce of courage I had and approached him.
"Lucas, about that post—I need to explain..."
"Don't bother," he cut me off. "I know it's bullshit."
I froze, stunned.
"You... know?"
"Yeah." He shrugged.
"Then why haven't you said anything?" My voice cracked. "Why haven't you helped me?"
He studied his expensive sneakers for a moment.
"Look, this is girl drama. I'm staying out of it."
He pushed off the locker and walked away without another glance.
I stood frozen, tears streaming down my face.
That's when I understood—he knew the truth but chose silence.
He didn't want the hassle. I was nobody, and he was Lucas Harrison.
My pain meant nothing compared to his comfort.
That night, Dad was three sheets to the wind when I got home.
"Finally decided to grace us with your presence?" he slurred. "Where've you been? Whoring around?"
He hurled his empty bottle at me. It shattered against the wall, sending glass shards into my palm.
I didn't cry. Not because I was brave—because I was empty.
That night, I sat in the corner of my room, watching blood trickle from my hand.
I have to get out of here.
I need to escape.
