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900words
She tried coming back twice more, but each time, the guards at the entrance threatened her with their tasers before she could even get close to the building.
When that tactic failed, she switched gears.
She created an account on Instagram and started posting snippets of her story.
At first, it didn't gain much traction. Then, she went live.
Dressed in a hospital gown, she streamed live, pouring her heart out in a tearful performance, accusing me of systematically destroying her marriage.
In her narrative, I was a bitter, lonely spinster, jealous of her marital bliss.
She claimed I constantly stirred trouble between her and Mark, poisoned her relationship with her mother-in-law.
And when her brother got sick, I brainwashed her daily, pressuring her to "get rid" of her babies to save him.
Wiping away crocodile tears, she told the camera, ["I actually have two younger sisters. I suggested they could get tested to see if they were a match. But Vanessa said I was the oldest, I had to be the responsible one."]
["I was young and naive back then. She manipulated me, tricked me into going to that clinic."]
["My poor five-month-old twins... they were fully formed... they never even got to see this world. Mommy is so sorry, babies. So sorry..."] She broke down, burying her face in her hands, sobbing dramatically.
The live stream went viral. Overnight, both Patricia and I became internet targets.
People found my personal Instagram account – the one I used for harmless life updates – and flooded it with vile comments and hateful messages.
Some sent death threats. Others photoshopped my face onto funeral notices and obituaries.
I'd finally had enough.
I unblocked Patricia's number and called her.
She sounded smug, like she'd been waiting. ["Well, well. The busy bee finally buzzes my way?"]
["Is that you spewing lies all over the internet?"] I demanded.
["Lies? I'm telling the truth!"]
["Patricia, I'm giving you one chance. Go online and tell everyone the truth. That every single decision was yours. That I never pressured or manipulated you into anything."]
Patricia laughed scornfully. ["I'm not retracting anything. What are you gonna do about it?"]
["Unless... you agree to support me for the rest of my life. Then I'll 'clarify'."]
I gritted my teeth. ["Fine. Fine. You just wait."]
She scoffed. ["Waiting."]
What Patricia didn't know was how paranoid I'd become after my rebirth.
My apartment had been fitted with security cameras ages ago. Every phone call, voice message, video chat we'd ever had? Recorded. Meticulously.
I hung up and worked through the night. I compiled every damning video clip, every recorded conversation. I wrote a detailed timeline of events, exposing her lies point by point. Just before dawn, I uploaded the entire exposé – videos, recordings, timeline – to every platform I could find.
I even paid two grand to boost the posts for maximum visibility.
The money was well spent. By the time I woke up, my "Truth Bomb" was trending #1. The comments section was a sea of outrage directed squarely at Patricia.
["The audacity to spin it like that! How does she sleep?"]
["Holy crap, it's 2024 and we still have brother-obsessed freaks like this?"]
["Thank god those babies weren't born. Can you imagine having herfor a mother?"]
["Poor Mark dodged a bullet."]
["Poor Mark? POOR VANESSA! Her 'friend' stabs her in the back and then tries to ruin her life?!"]
Patricia bombarded my phone with calls. I blocked her number again. Then the texts started pouring in:
"I'm sorry!"
"Please take the videos down!"
"I had no choice!"
"I was desperate!"
Yeah, right. Desperate? Who forced her? If she was so damn capable, why not demand her parents' house back? Or reclaim the dowry money she gave Kevin? Why just keep trying to leech off me?
Time flew. Internet outrage has a short lifespan. Our drama was soon buried under the next viral scandal.
Patricia sent sporadic apology texts for a while. I ignored them all. Eventually, they stopped.
I stayed in Denver until after New Year's. Then, I flew back to headquarters for my debriefing and settled into my very long, very well-deserved paid vacation. (Perks of taking an unglamorous hardship assignment
One bright, crisp winter day, I was out shopping for holiday outfits with my mom. Holding my water bottle was awkward, so I chugged the last of it, ready to toss it in a recycling bin. I spotted a woman dragging a large burlap sack, collecting bottles and cans. Feeling sorry for anyone out in the bitter cold doing that, I walked over and handed her my empty bottle.
She took it, offered a small, vacant smile, and shuffled onward, dragging her sack.
But those eyes... that familiar, hollow gaze stopped me cold. ["Her..."]
My mom followed my gaze to the retreating figure and shook her head, clicking her tongue sympathetically. ["Poor soul. Heard she terminated her pregnancy to donate a kidney to her brother."]
["After the donation, her husband divorced her, her family wouldn't take her back, she couldn't work..."]
["Lost her mind not long after."]
I felt a pang of sadness. But wasn't it the path she chose?
She chose her path. And walked it to the end.
