Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
This is a different kind of escape. Now, I’m escaping to somebody else’s life, opening my MacBook on my bedroom desk and logging into Tamson’s profiles. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, but then it wouldn’t, would it? Even if she tried to log in and had to reset her passwords, the reset links would go to the junk email address I provided. Since I don’t see any of those waiting in the inbox, I’m guessing she is still clueless. What’s the saying? Ignorance is bliss? This is the last night she’ll feel blissful, then.
It doesn’t take long for me to schedule Tiana’s new memes to go out every morning at the same time, early enough for anybody following her to see them before starting their day. I know Tiana will be waiting for them, and I trust her to spread them like wildfire as soon as they go live. She got extremely creative. I hope she doesn’t expect me to pay her back or anything, especially when I know the kind of payback she would be interested in. I wouldn’t touch that with a ten-foot pole—if there was ever a pussy with teeth, it’s got to be hers.
There’s a sense of satisfaction pulsing through my veins once I’m finished. I make sure to cross-post, too, since her Facebook and Insta are linked. It won’t be long before the whole school has plenty of ammo to use against her and make her more miserable than they already have.
Now, I need to think of a way to get her to the library tomorrow night, like I came up with earlier. A random email might get overlooked—besides, I would have to send it from an address she recognizes. She might be too stupid to lock down her online presence, but I doubt she would blindly trust a message from a stranger.
Finally, it seems like the easiest way is to just send an email from my school account. I don’t even know if she knows my name yet, which might work in my favor. We do have Lit together, and I remember her email address from when I dug around earlier.
The message is short and sweet. American Lit study group in the library. Tomorrow night, nine o’clock on the second floor. We’ll break up into groups for the midterm project. Will that be enough to lure her out? I guess all I can do is wait and see.
In the meantime, I’m still logged into her accounts, and now curiosity is starting to tap at the back of my skull. Her entire life is right here in front of me, going back years. Scrolling through, I see some of the photos which Tiana used in her memes.
The first thing that hits me is how happy Tamson looked a few years ago. She would’ve been in high school, and she took her schoolwork seriously. There are photos of her standing in a row with other kids, wearing pins after getting inducted into an academic honor society. There’s another one of her with her debate team, holding up a big trophy after they won a tournament. Fucking nerds, in other words, but her smile is enormous. I can practically feel the pride that swelled in her that day.
She wasn’t the only one who was proud. One of the comments under the photo is from somebody with her last name. Jason. Way to go, sis! I always said you got all the brains.
Her brother. The one who was shot. I remember hearing about it, but it didn’t make much of an impression on me at the time. Shit like that happens sometimes, especially when you hang out in certain areas of town.
Curiosity makes me click on his profile. He didn’t spend a lot of time on here from the looks of it, in fact, all of the photos with him in them are group photos, like family pictures and stuff like that where he was tagged so they would show up under his name.
I’m the same way. I don’t have the time to check in at places just so everybody knows I’m there. Who fucking cares? I’m not trying to show off for anybody.
It’s the most recent posts that catch my attention, the ones from within the past year. Some of his friends posted memorials for him, memories. I’ve never seen so many praying hands and dove emojis in one place. People can’t even be original when they’re mourning.
Tamson’s one of the mourners. She wished him a happy birthday four months after he died and posted a picture of the two of them together when they were kids. They’re dressed in Halloween costumes. He was some generic superhero; she was a princess.
I miss you. That was her message. Three words, but they say everything. At the same time, they don’t come anywhere close to telling the whole story.