Dahlia Aldridge
When I woke up, I couldn’t tell what time it was, but I had to assume early afternoon. My eyes felt heavy with sleep as I drifted in and out of consciousness. Yet underneath it all, there was a nagging sense that I needed to get up. I was missing something important that was happening. I could feel it. It was a battle of wills, though, and when I finally managed to open my eyes all the way, my head felt fuzzy, almost drugged, and there was a buzzing noise filling the room.
Crap, that was annoying. Who the heck was calling and texting me?
The buzzing went off again and again, making me finally groan as I reached out to find my phone. I yanked it from the charger, remembering briefly that I had plugged it in when I had pulled myself onto the bed after falling asleep on the floor for a bit. My body was thanking me for that, but I was still feeling heavy and lethargic.
Squinting at the screen, I pushed my hair from my face, feeling flushed from the way the afternoon sun and heat was hitting my skin. Maybe I was getting sick? I blinked, refocusing on my phone.
What the hell?
My eyes widened as Instagram notifications began flooding in, the small app ticking up in numbers as my stomach dropped. Confusion and fear grew in my chest as I clicked on the app. I had suspended my personal account, but I’d left my photography one open despite not touching it in months. I had promised I would start using it again after the bullying stopped, but it seemed like that wasn’t going to be an option anymore. Crap.
The room spun as my hand came to my throat, realizing I’d been tagged in seventy-six photos.Oh no.
Everything seemed to ice over inside of me as any sleepiness vanished and reality crashed into me like a mack truck. I felt a small noise break from my throat as I clicked on the profile that had tagged me in all the photos. Clearly it was a spam account… How did I know that? It was literally named ‘Uggo_ho46.’ You know, as in ‘ugly ho.’ I had no idea what the forty-six stood for, except maybe ‘for six,’ but how did that make sense?
I felt my mouth drop open in realization that all posts were about me.
Every. Single. One.
Most of them were familiar pictures, the ones I’d been receiving the past several months with pig ears and enlarged body parts. Circled parts. Then there were new ones. I had no idea how they had gotten them, but they had photos of me kissing Yates and Stratton. The first in Yates’s office and the second after the fight in that small park. Those alone weren’t bad, but whoever had taken it had drawn five actual dicks onto it as well. Mature. I am guessing my ‘for six’ was in reference to that? Like six dicks?
… and there was the photo of both twins kissing me at the game.
I was torn between laughing at the absurdity of this and crying with frustration. It was also really goddamn disturbing that someone had managed to capture all of these moments. Moments that meant far more to me than they realized.
Tears began to well in my eyes as I tried to ignore the hollow feeling running through me. What had I done to deserve this?
With shaking fingers, I clicked on the comments under one of the newer pictures that had received 2,000 likes already. Like a bad accident, I couldn’t stop looking as I scrolled through. Some people stood up for me, saying that this was a ‘bullshit spam account,’ but most were joining in on the mean comments. I mean, it didn’t help that the bio now read, ‘Dahlia Aldridge. I take 6 at a time - hit me up.’
Was this a fucking joke?
I inhaled, suddenly feeling more helpless than ever before. I needed to be strong and keep it together, but I wouldn’t be able to hide this. It was everywhere. There was no escaping the truth of what was happening to me, and they would know that I had been lying about the bullying stopping.
I could lose them over something like this.
Panic roared in my chest as bile filled my throat. Sprinting towards my bathroom, I pulled my hair back as I voided all of the food from the past twenty-four hours in the toilet. Tears began to trace down my skin as I threw up three more times before I was dry-heaving and sobbing.
My heart was beating a million miles an hour, my breathing rough as comments continued to pop up on the phone that was next to me on the floor. Thousands of people. Thousands, most of whom had no idea who I was, yet were ready to gang up on me… for fun?
Abby had probably paid for some of them, but not all. No, the account was growing, and the followers began to tick up, even recognizing some of the names from our school. I hated this. Everything spun as I completely sunk to the tile floor of the bathroom. I let out a small whimper, knowing that I couldn’t cry anymore. It was literally impossible.
I was running on empty, curled up on my side as my gaze traced the grout between each tile. The sound of the air-conditioning coming through the vents hummed. I closed my eyes, trying to find some way to ground myself.
I was exhausted. Numb. I was at ground zero and sinking in quicksand.
My phone buzzed with a text as I dragged it towards me, praying it would be one of my boys even though I knew it probably wasn’t. They would just come over. I didn’t want them to find out. God, I wanted to hide my shame and embarrassment, but if this was happening, then there was nothing I could do about it. Absolutely nothing.
I wanted a hug. That was what I wanted. I almost laughed at that—god I was so pathetic. The words on the screen blurred as it hammered another nail into the metaphorical coffin of my weakness.
Now everyone knows what a greedy pig you are.
Have fun losing everything, whore.
I squeezed my eyes shut as everything went dark for a few moments. I couldn’t tell you how long I laid there before I opened my gritty, sore eyes and wondered how long it would be until someone showed up. I was so glad that my parents were gone on a private flight right now.
They were going to be so disappointed in me. I just knew that they would look at me with that concerned look that was filled with disappointment that I didn’t tell them.