Page 40 of Web of Lies
The clatter of students in the hall dies down as the second bell rings out. I flush the stupid toilet one last time, forcing myself to my feet. I groan at the intense cramping clamping down my stomach walls. My hand clutches my stomach, like that will stop it from trying to kill me from the inside out. Sweat pours down my forehead, actually, it pours from every inch of my body. From my ankles to awkwardly dripping down my asscrack, I need a shower. A shower that lasts at least twenty-four hours to wash away the pain, sweat, and massive amounts of humiliation.
With a deep breath, I peek my head out of the bathroom. My ears perk at the silence in the halls, and I make a run for it. My stomach continues to cramp and revolt against my movements, but I can’t stop. Even if someone calls my name, I’d still go full force and ignore them. The toilet in my apartment is calling my name again. Fucking again. If I could ever manage to get off the toilet, it’d be a miracle.
After another hour—yes—a miserable hour on the toilet. I finally feel cleansed. Maybe there is a perk to the laxative she made me ingest. At least every shitty demon living in my gut has disappeared.Hallelujah! Gotta think positive, right?
I sit in front of my computer, freshly showered with massive amounts of determination running through my veins with the need for revenge. This shit will not stand. Literally. If it’s a fight they want, then a fight is what they’ll get. I will not sit back and let entitled assholes get the best of me.
For fuck’s sake, this is ridiculous. There were three incidents in less than five hours. Five. Hours. Well, then—they work fast, but so do I. It seems every incident pulls me back to one nasty little nuisance—Hadley Lacey, suspect number one.
When my computers show life, I start my mission. With horror in my eyes, I come to realize these assholes wasted no time. In a matter of a few hours, they’ve plastered my toilet incident all over every single social media site known to man. So, that’s how they wanna play it, huh? Bring it.
I find Hadley’s FlashGram account and snarl at the face, looking back at me. Poor me. Pale and sickly looking. I’m looking up at Hadley with pleading eyes to end my pain and torture.
Looks like our little boyfriend stealer caught herself a case of the shitting STDs. Stay clear of @kayceeAcole or you’ll catch it too.
I roll my eyes at the stupidest caption she’s ever written. Everyone from school joins in on the comments, giving the stupid picture at least one thousand likes and even more comments. Ridiculous. My head shakes on its own. If it’s a fight she wants, well, so be it. I will bring all my skills to the table; skills they don’t even know I possess. Never underestimate your enemy, dummies.
Within a few keystrokes, I bypass her password and her two-step verification. Gotcha! I’m in. Her FlashGram is mine now. I smirk as I scroll through all her old posts. I peek inside her private messages, which are mostly disgusting dick pics from guys she doesn’t know, and some she does. Tilting my head at the dick pic in front of me, not because I’m impressed by the tiny fella looking back at me, but because I’ve seen him before. I mean, not this side of him, of course, but his face. And now, apparently, his willie. Trent Gallagher goes to this school too. His family owns the biggest pharmaceutical company in the country. He’s absolutely loaded and apparently loaded for her.
Gross. Gag. Bleck!
Trent Gallagher: You like that, baby?
Hadley Lacey: Oh yes, show me more.
The text exchange makes me want to gag but also gives me more ideas. Bad, bad ideas. Cue the evil laughing.
Hadley Lacey: meet me? I need you. *Winky face*
Cue more gags. How cliche sounding is that, but from what I’ve seen of her, it sounds legit. And with how fast he replies, I’ve caught myself a horny fish.
Trent Gallagher: Like right now? Hell yeah!
Hadley Lacey: Come and find me. ;)
Lord, what am I doing? This could spell disaster, but I don’t have time to think about the consequences. Remember, Kace, she took a picture of you pooping and posted it online for the world to see.
Trent Gallagher: Fuck yeah… I’ll meet you. Be prepared baby.
Hadley Lacey: I’ll be waiting for you……
After a few more disgusting texts back and forth, I end the conversation. The likes on my picture have grown by a thousand now. Bringing the grand total to over two thousand. Two. Thousand. I mean, who presses the heart button on someone who looks as miserable as I do in the picture. Pathetic.
Time to bring my pooping pictures reign to an end. With the click of my mouse, I delete the picture from FlashGram. Goodbye, you awful reminder! With an evil grin plastered on my face, I set up a tracker, effectively deleting every copy out there.
If anyone has the balls to post it again, my computer will alert me. Then I can go in and do the same things I’m doing now. And if they keep trying to ruin me through this, I’ll run a virus through each and every computer. Just for fun to anyone who dares to defy me. Speaking of defying, I go into the settings and change Hadley’s password. I copy her current email listed and ruin anything else associated with her account. With any luck, this bitch won’t be able to log back in any time soon. How long will it take her to discover I have successfully locked her out of her one-million follower, FlashGram account?
With her FlashGram account still up, I switch tabs, bringing up her email service, and get to work. In the same keystrokes as before, I break into her emails and feast my eyes on her most private exchanges. School emails. Scholarship emails. Her emails with her precious daddy. But the one email that stops me cold is from Planned Parents, with the title, ‘Your test results are in’. Oh-fuck me.
I fold my hands, raising my eyes toward the ceiling. Thank you, God, thank you for giving me this little piece of gold to ruin a tormentor. Sure, she’s only done a few things to me so far, within a five-hour time frame, but she’s like a toddler. If I let her get away with these things now, she’ll never learn. She may strike at me harder, making my life just a little more miserable. But fuck it. I must strike her down before she strikes me again.
The old movieMean Girlsflashes through my mind. I’m about to lay the smack down, Regina George style. Except I’m not the villain here. I’m the hero swooping in to save my ass for once.
“Hadley Lacey, your test results are in. Please log in to your patient portal to retrieve your information. If you have questions, please don’t hesitate to call Dr. Mason at any time.” A link to her patient portal lies in blue at the bottom of the page. My nose wrinkles. Getting into patient information is a little trickier than hacking FlashGram and Yohoo. There are more hoops to jump through, but I can manage. It takes about 10 minutes to finagle my way into her patient portal, but dear God, is it worth it. Within seconds, I see my revenge in the palm of my hand.
“Hadley Lacey, please be advised your test results have pinged back positive for Gonorrhea. We have sent a supply of antibiotics to your local pharmacy, please take the prescription prescribed. If your symptoms don’t ease within seven days, please come back for another appointment. It is important to inform all your sexual partners and to refrain from any sexual acts.”
This is gold, too golden to pass up. You take a picture of me shitting my guts out? Well, prepare yourself, Hadley. I told you not to touch me again. I cackle like a witch as I upload Hadley’s newest FlashGram post.
