Page 41 of Web of Lies
Uh-oh! I made a boo-boo! Better get yourselves tested.
I make her stupid caption say, like she’s a little baby or something. Victory runs through my veins, spreading towards my war-drum beating heart. Screw girls like her. Screw everyone, like her. Screw it all. I want to burn this place to the ground and laugh while they fight to survive. They wanted a war with me. Well, they’re getting one - one they won’t see coming.
My computer pings non-stop as the comments flood in.
Trent Gallagher:
WTF?! AND you wanted to hook up!!! #Snotgreenpussyew
Oscar:
Fuck-shit… seriously? #Thatsnasty
SegerWest:
Well, that’s one way to let your fuck buddies know you’re infected! #Downwiththeinfecredho #Imcleanhowboutyou
AinsBenoit:
Ew, Hads, I think you’ve been hacked or something. That’s disgusting.
I fold my arms across my chest, laughing to myself. They can report her post all they want, but it will only trace back as Hadley’s doing. Nothing I do from this spot will ever lead back to me.
My hands rub together, my mind turning with new ideas. Hadley was one person. Could she have done everything else? I know she captured me at my weakest moment. But the rest? My tongue runs over the top of my teeth, making my way to the security footage. Whoever painted my door would be there. Whoever put a disgusting dildo in my locker would be there, too. There’s evidence everywhere.
I check through the timestamps, circling on the videos for my building. I watch each tape with an eagle eye. I won’t miss anything from last night. After a few hours of watching each video, I’m about to throw in the towel. For fuck’s sake, this is taking forever. Whoever did it waited—
“No fucking way,” I breathe, leaning in toward my computer screen.
There’s a tiny flicker of movement starting at the end of the hallway. Five figures emerge in black robes, folding their hands into their long sleeves, not giving away anything about their features. Black masks appear over their faces. What is this… a ghostly cult? As they form a semicircle in front of my door, white lines emerge on the footage. They completely take over the screen, corrupting the footage beyond repair. Minutes roll by, the white lines taking over the screen like static. The numbers stay, and as three minutes roll by, the screen comes back to normal. A gasp falls from my open mouth. They painted my door in its entirety and the ghost cult has disappeared from the frames.
What. The. Fuck.
That’s all my brain is capable of thinking, as I copy the footage to my hard drive to watch repeatedly. There are ways to uncorrupt the footage from whatever they did to it, but it’s difficult. It’s more Tristan’s type of duty. But could I trust him to do something like this and not freak out on me? He already claimed I gave him a heart attack with my mission. So, that’s a no on the Tristan front. He’d probably track me down and spank me. Mmm—my cheeks flush. Is it strange to fantasize about a man you’ve never met spanking you? Nah, nope, not at all! Totally normal.
I grumble to myself. I need outside help with this, with whatever this footage could show. As I ponder calling an outside source, so I don’t give Tristan a heart attack, I check the other footage. The time stamps say three am, so in theory, wherever they came from should be visible from the cameras around campus. I check every camera angle, in every building, and it’s all the same. They’re all corrupted through static. Every single piece of footage that could help me is missing. They even corrupted the hallway footage, so I can’t even see who stuck that vile thing in my locker. Whoever-or whatever is behind my sudden hate wants it a secret. One step forward in victory and ten giant leaps backward. Fuck my life. Why couldn’t it be simple?
The next two on my shit list hurt the most. Their identical faces come to mind. The rage and the hatred flashing through their eyes turns my stomach like the violent current of an ocean. I close my eyes. Last Friday we were friends in a maze and today we are enemies forged from some stupid cloak-wearing cult. My fingers trace the wrinkles of my forehead, willing my brain to think.
Think. Think. Think.
Seger and Zepp denied me food. They refused to let me enter, which is my God-given right. My parents paid for that food through my ridiculous tuition. How can I get them back for being douchebags? And I wonder, too, will they keep doing it? Hm… I could easily strike the two of them the way I struck Hadley, but it all seems too simple to me. I don’t want fingers pointing back to me, just in case. For now, I can cross Hadley’s incident off my list. But the other two are in limbo. I can’t strike back at masked men, who obviously have some sort of pull with the security cameras… like I do.
My back stiffens at the thought. Whoever is a part of that creepy, cloak-wearing team, did exactly what I did. Instead of completely disabling them, they scrambled them all to hell. They must know about me. What I can do. What I’ve done over the last five years for Callie and Bodhi.
I jump up from the chair, pacing the room. If they know my skills, then they know why I’m here. Shit. Shit. Shit. And more and more shit! Ugh. My phone buzzes on my desk a few times.
Tristan:
No bullshit?
Tristan:
I’m having the shittiest day
Tristan:
Talk me off a ledge or something
