What Follows
7.4: Seven Deadly Riddles- Part Two

`tell them I was the warmest place you knew and you turned me cold`

3. Nothing shakes one’s core as much as a platform full of bores- $1500

Tobias and I unplugged the phone from the charger and are sitting on chairs, in the now-empty teachers’ staffroom. Benji is roaming around us, leashed to Tobias who stares over my shoulder at the phone in my hands.

“I genuinely have no clue what those riddles mean,” Tobias says hesitantly. “I mean, they were crafted for a Megamind. I suppose half of that money is for interpreting them.”

I say nothing and scroll through the pictures of, apparently, a new Facebook account with the name ‘Rose Is Cancelled’. I smirk bitterly at the profile picture of me barfing in a toilet seat with Sierra bending over and holding my hair. And I wonder, again, who took such a picture?

“I can’t believe none of your close friends found this account,” Tobias says distastefully.

“She chose all the ‘right’ sort of people who’d enjoy such an account to add as friends,” I say, staring at the profile’s black background. “It’s a private account and the profile picture isn’t that clear,” I say solidly, drowning my feelings. “Not anyone can recognize us.”

Scrolling further down, pictures of the list of friends who can view the profile are attached. There are profiles of some people I know and some I don’t. All in all, I can’t believe anyone would grant anyone almost two thousand bucks for making a fake Facebook account. And I can’t believe that she has ‘fans’, actual human beings, who left hundreds of comments about how ‘excited’ they are to see how this turns out.

“People make me sick.” I grimace and select the return button. I then turn to Tobias with a tremulous smile. “Maybe you were right after all,” I say. “Maybe she posted some of my disgracing pictures.”

“I hope not,” He says quickly and I sigh, selecting the fourth segment with a heavy heart.

4. The smart only believe, when their eyes can’t deceive- $2000

“Yup,” I tell the screen. “Definitely pictures.” I suck in my inner cheek and tap my right foot in immense disappointment, confusion, tiredness, anger and misery, all together.

There are fifty attached pictures and even though I’d hate to see them stare back at me as living evidence of my best friend’s treachery, I open them and pour vinegar in my wound.

I scroll down to find my pictures with cocaine on my face, pictures of me sleeping in the middle of the night, and many other intimate, intimate pictures. They’re all so personal, it truly guts me. I can’t believe Sierra dared to post them. I can’t believe how she’s grown so ruthless, how she has so easily thrown me out to the wolves.

And, really, there’s nothing to say.

Tobias is sitting very still, almost not breathing beside me and I glance at him, wondering what he thinks of me. If he’s judging me and my heart that has chosen the very worst person on Earth to love and trust. If he thinks I’m stupid and blind. If he blames my heart for my suicide.

“She’s a vermin!” He spits out with so much anger, all of a sudden, it catches me off guard. “She’s the devil reincarnated.” He blabbers on. “There’d be no more fitting homo sapien for being the antichrist. She’s the epitome of evil and she probably farts poisonous gas!”

My stare lingers a bit before a hesitant smile bursts from my deeply bitten lips. I gaze into his twinkling, teary eyes and wonder if they’ve always been so prone to crying. I contemplate the horror pasted on his face as he said those repulsive words in my defence, and it could be enough to numb my feelings for a while as my smile turns into a brittle grin and my grin into an echoing, wannabe chuckle.

Tobias doesn’t laugh along but he seems deeply satisfied that he has somehow stopped me from sulking, even if for a second. And, really, I can see the effort he’s putting to help me out and it means so much to me, I can hardly stop the tears cascade that stains my dress’ collar.

His smile slips and he knits his brows. “Why are you weeping again?” He asks softly, gently, like I’m broken glass precariously fixed with glue, waiting for the wrong push to shatter all over again.

"It’s just that-" I breathe out and can’t believe I’m capable of getting such care from a dead soul when I failed at getting it from a living one. “It’s just that I think we’re way past forced acquaintances, Tobias.” I settle for a small, crying smile. “Can you believe it?”

Tobias doesn’t say anything, doesn’t smile despite his grinning eyes, and I get it.

5. They say there’s no smoke without a fire, we say there’s no fire without the matches- $2500

"Rumours," Tobias whispers in disbelief after he’s read the sub-challenge as I silently scroll down. Benji struts in circles around my feet and I kinda hope something would happen that’d disable me from using this heartbreaker machine cradled in my cold hands.

But, of course, hell is not meant to be a wish-granting factory.

Just like the previous sub-challenges, this has attached media files, ten of them, ten screenshots of Facebook posts, spreading rumours about me. And needless to say, those rumours only added fuel to the fire my inappropriate pictures raged.

There are rumours about how I’m full of shit, how I’m a junkie amongst ‘angels’, how I’m fake, a wannabe, how I have secret affairs, how I’m a freak, and a lot of other amazing insults and accusations that aren’t even half true.

And despite how disheartening this all is, it explains my utter confusion when I first heard some of those rumours among my classmates. I was so perplexed, upset as to what gave them such notions. As to what inspired such wide-spread ideas and finger-pointing. As to what I could’ve done to cause this.

And that was when I started blaming myself for it all. I thought I must’ve made some mistake, I must’ve upset some social balance, I must’ve made this one mistake. And that was what triggered my anxiety.

That was how I thoroughly ruined my life. How I became very vigilant, watching myself, my actions through the society’s lens, designed by the standards of what people think is appropriate and acceptable. That was how my steady hands became shaky, how my strong eyes weakened and became almost always attracted to gravity, looking at the ground like it had some answers for what was happening, how my breaths stopped being long enough and fulfilling, how my lungs and heart welcomed panic attacks like a long lost friend.

So, yes, people’s hushed conversations that followed, when I passed by them, wearing an innocent, clueless smile, are no longer a mystery to me. I now know their content, the reasons behind their glances. I now understand why they might’ve looked at me differently.

And it hurts to know that people know the dangers that such a Facebook account could pose. It hurts that they’d hate to be in my place, with their most intimate, embarrassing pictures posted all over the internet, for everyone’s eyes, without their consent, with stinky rumours ‘explaining’ them. It hurts to know that they knew and did nothing to stop it.

And I hate them for letting me become the drama they were starving for. And I hate it that it’s too late to resent them, to take action, to deliver speeches about the atrocity of my situation, to raise awareness about how this might happen again to another clueless, helpless victim who might end their lives just like I easily did.

I mean, hell, don’t come at me with how I ′shouldn’t′ have ended my life when I felt like I was waging a war against myself every day because of mistakes I’ve never committed.

“Todd wasn’t even half as bad,” Tobias whispers.

“I don’t think anyone can reach her level of...viciousness," I say.

"Viciousness," Tobias repeats. “Nice ‘ridiculous’ word.” I glance at him and he’s grinning. “You prefer using such words when you’re provoked.”

“Yeah, have someone spread ill rumours about you- no, wait, not just anyone- your best friend," I say, staring at the phone. “I don’t think anything you’d say would matter,” I tell him dejectedly. ”Nothing, no words will ever be fit to explain how I feel.” I look at him with a small sigh. “I need to grasp my emotions in my hands, talk to each and every one of them to understand them.” I sigh. “I’ve just been all over the place lately.”

“You’ve been all over the place?” Tobias repeats and I click my tongue as I dreamily gaze at him.

“I don’t know if I should feel justified about killing myself. Cause according to this-” I lift the phone a little. “-I have every right to do so,” I say. ”Yet, a part of me- a part of me feels like I could’ve done something if I had been alive with this knowledge.” I inhale deeply and shake my head. “I feel like-” I shut my eyes, disturbed. “I feel like-”

“You’ve wasted your life-”

“Yes,” I say with an exhale. “But we’ve already established that-”

“You feel weak.”

I turn completely to him and bite on my tongue like it doesn’t exist. “Yes. Maybe that’s more accurate.” I then shake my head, changing my mind. “No. Although-” I pause, purse my lips. “You know? In fact, yes, I feel weak. I feel weak, yes. Like I could’ve been more useful alive rather than dead.”

“Anyone is more useful alive.” Tobias points out. “Except for serial killers, of course.”

“I just believe I could’ve channelled all my sadness and disappointment into something positive.” I shrug a shoulder. “But I decided to end my life anyway.”

Tobias nods and says nothing in response, and I realize that this is, maybe, how he feels about his own suicide too. I sigh heavily and return to the screen with the seven sub-challenges to select the sixth one with a heavier, knowing heart. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

This is not going to get better.

6. Three musketeers are unstoppable until two become one- $3000

And there’s only one media file. It’s a video.

“This is making me incredibly nervous,” Tobias singsongs and I snort.

“Whatever,” I mutter. “It has served its purpose. It’s over.”

“Weird that it has only one media file,” Tobias says thoughtfully. “Like, she has completed this very, very exorbitant task by one file. What the hell could it possibly hold?”

I select it and it plays and I gasp because, because, “It’s a sex tape.”

Tobias looks almost horrified. “Your sex tape?” His eyes widen but I’m way too focused on the very familiar setting of the video. I’m way too focused on the black dress Sierra’s wearing as she adjusts the camera with a wide smile. I’m way too focused on her shrill voice as she says ‘in here, baby’ and on the frame in the backdrop that carries our picture.

"No." My tongue moves by its own accord. I stare at the video more, then look at Tobias with parted lips. I then say, “It’s Sierra’s and Mason’s.”

Tobias frowns, glances at the phone, his forehead creased. “I don’t understand.” He mutters softly, but I’m way too engrossed, violently scrolling through the thousands of sick, sick comments.

“I was there,” I whisper. ”I was there!” I repeat to myself, my eyes going all over the laughing emojis, the plain ′lols′ and the ‘CHEERS TO DEVILSPLAY, BUT THAT DESERVED WAY MORE’ comments.

My mind’s spiralling with repeating, echoing whys and hows. Why did she do that? How could she hurt me like that? Why did she post a video like that? How can she do it without Mason’s knowing?

“Is she tricking Mason into a relationship?” Tobias asks suddenly as if he just realized the immensity of the disaster Sierra is. As if he just realized how low she stooped and how dirty she played. “Did she do it to hurt you?”

“To isolate me.” I correct him. “She did it so that she’d steal him from me. So I would have no-one to rely on.”

Tobias shakes his head, shocked, so shocked. “For three thousand dollars?” He rubs his face with a hand. “That’s insane.”

“She’s going to hurt Mason too.” I gasp, a hand on my chest. “She’s what a human ripple effect would look like.”

“She’s inducing so much damage,” Tobias agrees with me, but my mind is still full of disbelieving question marks and shocked exclamation marks. I almost always forget how to speak.

“I have to stop her,” I say breathlessly as I return to the sub-challenges and quickly, thoughtlessly press on the last one.

7- Your friend is dead and you should be grieving, but respect is for the staying, not for the leaving- $3500

“Someone has to stop her,” I repeat to myself and select the one media file she has uploaded.

I almost choke on my breath as I stare at the picture of her, apparently and so very happily, posing with my gravestone. Her tongue is out and her eyes are bright with joy.

“Oh my God,” I whisper loudly, slapping a shaky hand over my parted lips. ”Oh my God,” I repeat as if that’s the only thing left to remember of the very smart words Tobias said I’d have a handful of when I’m provoked. I gape at the phone, not wanting to believe her smile, not wanting to concern myself with her boot that’s crushing the roses Joshua placed earlier.

And maybe I hope I was blinded before today. Before I could’ve seen her insult every good memory we had together for money. I wish I was hit by a bus before I killed myself so that I would’ve died normally and not have to experience this betrayal. I wish I could look in her eyes again, for one last time, just for the sake of making sure that she’s truly hopeless after all.

That she has yanked all the strings connecting us out.

I blindly scroll through the comments, my thumb moving absently and my vision blurred by hesitant, dead tears that are wondering if it’s worth taking that steep hike down my face over a girl who knows no love or loyalty. A girl who has venom in her veins instead of blood that kills her heart more every day.

I almost gasp when I see one angry comment. One comment that kinda makes sense. ‘Wth is this siera?!’ is what the comment says.

“That’s odd.” Tobias breaks the silence suddenly and I shake my head because there’s nothing normal about anything and everything and everyone and what and where. It’s all odd and abnormal. And that’s all it’ll ever be.

“No? You don’t see it?” Tobias asks, his eyes wandering about some theory, some thought... perhaps some solution to the fact that I’m dead and want to kill myself again?

“Tobias, I-”

“The person who commented knows her,” Tobias says a tad too excited. “She or he used her name even though the account claims that she’s Tina Thompson.” He shakes his head. “This person knows her.”

I squint at the screen and narrow my eyes. “They spelt her name incorrectly.”

“Just give me the phone,” Tobias says and grabs the phone from my numb hands. I watch him press at the profile that commented and lift his brows. The profile picture is a picture of someone’s hair, forehead and eyes, and its called ‘ZenLikeLove’.

“I know him," Tobias says, pointing at the picture with his middle finger. “He’s that guy,” He says with wide, blinking eyes. “He’s your Judas, Roseline.”

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