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“Amy, are you okay?”
I raise my head and smile. “The police took the photo and letter as evidence and warned me not to distribute it online.”
“As if you would,” she replies with a huff. “What I don’t understand is how a troll could have tracked you to this address.”
“What makes you think it was sent by a troll?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “You’re right. I keep assuming it’s AI. But if it’s a real photo, one you can’t remember, you need to speak to your mom.”
My throat tightens. Myra keeps her family at a distance. Her parents disapprove of everything she does, from her career in publishing to her gig at the Wonderland fetish store. Yet they’re desperate to welcome her back to the fold.
For as long as I can remember, my parents have just wanted me gone. It’s why they made me board at Tourgis Academy,when I could have gone there as a day student and traveled by bus, and why they bought me a house on the other side of town.
I make them uncomfortable. Dr. Saint says it’s survivor’s guilt because I was the only one who got injured in the car crash. Now that this photo has come to light, I think that explanation is bullshit.
“So, how’s the book going to end?” she asks, trying to distract me from the picture.
My shoulders sag. That’s an excellent question. One I’m incapable of answering. “No idea. I hadn’t thought past the wedding and the execution.”
“How do you feel about including the reason why you didn’t go?”
I wince. There’s no way I’ll allow the whole world to know I can’t remember my childhood, especially if it involves electric shock treatments. “That....” I shake my head. “Myra, I can’t.”
She sighs. I hate disappointing her, but my lack of memories are a festering wound. When I agreed to write a true crime love story based on my relationship with Xero, I knew I would have to include a little background on myself, but I don’t want to open my life up to even more scrutiny.
Jake was probably the one behind the photo and had sent it to derail my plans to marry Xero. When that didn’t deter me from leaving the house, that’s when the slimy bastard must have decided to attack me on my doorstep.
I thought I’d safeguarded my privacy. Myra arranged for my mail to be sent to her assistant, Kayla, who forwarded it to a mailing service, which forwarded it to me. Jake shouldn’t have been able to track my whereabouts without getting the information from Myra or Kayla.
“Why don’t we celebrate when I finish the manuscript?” she says.
“Thanks.” I force a smile at her attempt at encouragement. “Hold on while I put the champagne away.”
I take the bottle into the kitchen and open the fridge. The red velvet cake I ordered for Xero and me to enjoy after the wedding has a hole in its side and is covered in white streaks. It almostlooks like someone stuck their dick into it and came all over its surface.
Resisting the urge to run my finger over the white substance and check its salt content, I place the champagne in a bottle rack and shut the door. If I can hallucinate an entire corpse, then a ravished red velvet cake is hardly a stretch.
When I return, Myra is already standing. “Something’s happened to your account.”
I cross the room and take my phone, only to find myself signed out of the app. When I enter my username and password, I squint at the error notice.
“What does it say?”
“Account banned for community guidelines violation,” I mutter.
“What? Why?”
I navigate to my email, where there’s a message waiting for me from the app. “Shit.”
“What now?”
“I’ve been expelled from the creator fund, which means I won’t get paid for all those viral videos.”
“Call Gavin,” Myra says. “He’ll get you reinstated.”
I roll my eyes. Gavin works for the app and could help me in seconds, but everything about him makes me cringe. All three of us were at Tourgis Academy together, but we only have contact via Myra. He’s a regular at her fetish store and maintains their e-commerce site. He’s harmless, but his desperation to practice BDSM bleeds into every conversation.
“Let me at least try contacting support,” I mutter.
