Laura

by Amy Cross

  “So maybe he's the -”

  “He died,” I add, interrupting him again. “He died a long time ago, back when we were at uni, so it's not him doing this. It can't be.”

  “Okay, so let's -”

  “Damn it!” I hiss, feeling for a moment as if my entire body is on the brink of falling apart. Maybe that'd be best for everyone. “God, I feel sick. I think I'm going to be sick.”

  “Sophie,” he continues, “listen, everything's going to be okay. Whoever's doing this, it's something we need to report to the police.”

  Shaking my head, I lean against the wall and then slowly slither down on shaking legs until I'm sitting on the cold tiled floor. My whole body feels as if it's out of control, and I can't stop my chest and arms shuddering as I'm hit by wave after wave of shock. Every few seconds, I hear another beep from my phone over on the other side of the room, and I know that more and more of those awful pictures are being uploaded, and I have absolutely no doubt that people are looking at them. Sure, everyone will act shocked and appalled, but they'll still be looking. And by mixing fakes in with genuine photos, this asshole has made it so that the whole thing is completely believable.

  “Make it stop,” I whimper, putting my hands over my ears in an attempt to drown out the constant stream of notifications.

  “Sophie,” Toby says, crouching next to me, “we've reported the -”

  “Make it stop!” I scream, pushing past him and crawling across the kitchen floor. “People are going to think I was some kind of slut! I was never like that!”

  Grabbing my phone, I smash it against the corner of the counter, hitting the screen over and over until it shatters and the phone finally shuts the hell up. Letting it fall to the floor, I lean back against the wall and start letting out a series of heavy, gulping moans. I'm sure those notifications are continuing, but at least I can't hear them now.

  “We're going to fix this whole mess,” Toby continues, coming over and crouching next to me again. He puts a hand on my shoulder. “We're not going to let those pictures stay online.”

  “Who's doing this to me?” I sob, my bottom lip trembling now as I feel utter despair in my chest. “Who hates me this much?”

  Chapter Nine

  Ten years earlier

  “Laura! Hey Laura, wait up!”

  I can already hear the sound of the party, with loud music booming from the house on the corner. Laura is almost there, but she stops and turns to me, waiting for me to catch up. She has a Tesco bag hanging from one hand, no doubt filled with alcohol and snacks for the night, and she grins broadly as soon as she sees me. All that anger from this morning seems to have dissipated now, which is a relief. I was worrying she'd never chill out again.

  “Everyone else is running late,” I tell her, rolling my eyes. “Apart from Elliot. I think he's already in there. You know what he's like, he's never late for anything!” Checking my phone, I see that it's almost midnight. “The pre-party meet-up in town wasn't exactly busy.”

  I wait for her to reply, but after a moment I realize that she's watching me with a strange, slightly curious expression. She can be like this, sometimes. She's one of those people who always seems to have a whole lot going on in their head, and I'm pretty sure she keeps most of her thoughts to herself. She has a very strong social filter, only letting out the parts of herself that she wants other people to see. It's almost as if she's constantly pretending to be someone she's not.

  “What?” I ask cautiously, reaching up and rubbing my lips. “Do I have make-up smeared somewhere? Ketchup?”

  “No,” she replies with a smile, “you look fine. You look great. It's just...”

  Her voice trails off.

  “You're not still annoyed about this morning, are you?” I continue, as we make our way toward the house's front door. “I talked to Lynn at uni earlier, and I think I made her understand what she did wrong. If it's any consolation, I don't think she'll be calling you those awful names anymore. She meant it as a joke, even if that's not exactly how it came out.”

  “It doesn't matter.”

  “It matters if it upsets you. I mean, slut is a pretty nasty thing to call someone and -”

  “Not if I am a slut.”

  “Nobody thinks that.”

  “Lynn does.” She shrugs. “I'm over it. Whatever. It doesn't matter to me what people think. I don't care about stuff like that.”

  “But -”

  “I saw Tommy just now.”

  I flinch slightly. “Sorry?”

  “Your ex,” she continues. “That guy you dated for a few months last year. You know, the asshole who supplies half this town with its weed and other substances? What's wrong, don't you remember him?”

  “Sure,” I reply, “I just... I haven't thought of him for a while, that's all.”

  “He was on his way here. He'll be at the party. Actually, it turns out that he lives in the house now, so it'd kind of be weird if he didn't show up. That's not going to be awkward for you, is it?”

  “No,” I lie, figuring that any discomfort can be erased using a few beers. “We were never really very serious. When we broke up, it was pretty amicable.”

  “Just someone to fool around with, huh?”

  “No, it was...” I try to work out how to explain the whole mess. “I'm not a...”

  “Slut?”

  “I -”

  “Relax,” she adds, “I'm just yanking your chain.” She pushes the garden gate open and leads me toward the front door. “It's weird to think about it, though. If you hadn't dated Tommy, you'd probably be with Elliot by now.”

  “I doubt it,” I say with a smile. “Why? What makes you think that?”

  “Just a hunch. Still, I guess that boat has sailed now. You and Elliot are just really good friends, right?”

  She heads into the house, leaving me alone on the front step for a moment. I actually feel like turning around and going home, and having a quiet evening. Of course, if I did that, Laura would feel as if she'd won, as if she'd managed to freak me out. There's no way I'm giving her that satisfaction. After all, Tommy was just a fling.

  “Come on!” Laura calls back to me. “It's time to have some fun!”

  Once we're inside, the noise of the party is pretty intense. There are people everywhere, drinking and talking in the house's corridors, while a massive sound-system is pumping out songs at an insane volume. To be honest, this isn't exactly my kind of party, and I came tonight mainly because Laura sounded so lonely when she asked me to tag along. I've been feeling bad for her all day, and I think Lynn's comments earlier – albeit intended in a friendly manner – might have cut deep. Laura's a good friend, and I want to make her feel better.

  “Here he is!” she shouts suddenly, grabbing my arm and pulling me closer until I find myself face-to-face with Tommy. “See, Sophie? I told you he was here tonight!”

  I open my mouth to reply, but for a moment I feel a little too shocked to say anything. I haven't exactly been avoiding Tommy since we broke up, but I haven't gone out of my way to bump into him either. Right now, however, I just feel embarrassed, and I'm glad the disco lights of the house are – hopefully – hiding my blushes. After all, Tommy and I were together for a little while, and we got pretty close.

  “Long time,” he says with a faint, leering smile. “How have you been?”

  “I'm going to let you guys talk,” Laura adds, before leaning close and whispering in my ear. “He's actually not that bad-looking. Shame he's the local drug-dealer, but I guess no-one's perfect.”

  As she hurries away, I can't shake the feeling that she's set me up. I'm not quite sure why she'd want to put me into an awkward situation, but I guess the charitable interpretation would be that she mistakenly thinks she's helping.

  “So what have you been up to?” Tommy asks. “Are you seeing anyone at the moment?”

  ***

  “Are you hiding?” Elliot asks, peering into the laundry room at the rear of the house.

  �
��No,” I reply, although I quickly realize there's no point protesting. “Yes,” I add meekly, looking around at the various old washers and dryers pushed up against the breeze-blocks. Above, a single light-bulb lights the windowless room. The party music sounds so far off, even though it's only a couple of walls away. This windowless room is like a bunker. “It was getting a little loud in the main part of the house. I'd have loved a party like this a couple of years ago, but now... Maybe I'm just getting old.”

  He takes a swig of beer as he comes over to join me.

  “You're not missing much,” he explains with a faint sigh. “Nick's drunk as usual, Jonathan's looking completely out of place, Lynn's snorting something highly dubious up her nose, Laura is probably around somewhere but I haven't seen her for a while, and -”

  “Tommy's here,” I reply, interrupting him.

  He hesitates, before nodding. “I thought that was him. So is he the reason you're holed up in here?”

  “No. Maybe. Kind of.”

  “That guy was an ass,” he continues. “He treated you like garbage.”

  “Not really,” I reply. “We both knew what the relationship was about. It's just weird seeing him again tonight.” I pause, thinking back to some of the wild things Tommy and I got up to. God, I hope he really did delete those videos. “Turns out, he's one of the guys who lives at this house,” I explain. “I didn't know that until after we got here. Laura could've warned me, but instead she acted surprised that he was even here.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah, ouch.” Reaching over, I clink my beer bottle against his before taking a sip. “I'm sure she means well.”

  “Trying to hook you two back together, huh?”

  I can't help grimacing. “That would never happen. Trust me. Tommy's a nice enough guy, but he's way too into the drugs scene for my liking. Weed's fine, but you should see some of the stuff he sells to other people. That's totally not my kind of thing.”

  We stand in silence for a moment, each of us seemingly waiting for the other to keep the conversation going. Then again, these little pauses with Elliot are always pretty comfortable. In the two and a half years I've known him, I've never felt the need to fill our silences with endless babble, and I think he feels the same. Sometimes, I even think that he and I fit together better than anyone else I've ever met. We just seem to have this innate understanding.

  “I should go back through,” he says suddenly, taking a step back. He looks flustered. “I mean, there's a whole party through there, right? It seems like a waste for us to skip it.”

  “Can't you stay in here with me for a bit?” I ask, suddenly hating the idea of him leaving. “Please?”

  He seems reluctant.

  “Please, Elliot,” I continue, feeling as if maybe this is the right moment for something to happen between us. “I don't want to be out there with all those people, I want to be here with you. Well, not here necessary, it doesn't matter where, but...”

  I pause, keeping my eyes fixed on him, hoping against hope that finally he'll get the hint. If it doesn't happen now, maybe it's never going to happen at all. We finish university in a few months' time, and I guess everyone will head off to start the next chapters in their lives. Our little gang of six has been so close for the past three years, and now it's about to break up. If something doesn't happen with Elliot soon, I guess the chance will be over forever.

  “What's wrong?” I ask finally, feeling a little irritated. “You actually look scared.”

  “No,” he stammers, “I just...”

  His voice trails off.

  “I'm not forcing you,” I continue, glancing down at my beer bottle for a moment. This isn't going well, and I'm starting to think I shouldn't bother. Not if he's this oblivious. Or maybe I was wrong, and he's not interested after all. “I just thought you might want to hang out, that's all. Just the two of us.”

  I wait for a reply. After a few seconds, however, I glance at him and see that he still just seems shocked.

  “Aren't you going to say anything?” I ask.

  Again, I wait.

  He has to understand this time. Even Elliot has to be picking up the signals. If not, then God help him, because he must be a major league idiot.

  “Listen,” I continue, “I just think it's worth -”

  Suddenly there's a scream from elsewhere in the house, and a moment later the music comes to an abrupt halt.

  “It's Lynn!” someone shouts in the distance. “Call an ambulance!”

  Elliot and I hurry through to the front room, where we find that the lights have been switched on and shocked, drunken-faced party-goers are gawping as Lynn shudders and screams on the floor. Clutching her belly, she seems to be in agony, and after a moment she leans her head back and lets out an ear-splitting cry of pain that brings a fine spray of blood from her lips.

  “Get an ambulance here!” I shout, pushing past the onlookers and dropping to my knees next to her. “It's going to be okay,” I stammer, “help's coming. You'll be -”

  She screams again, and this time I see that she has blood on her hands, too.

  “Call an ambulance!” I shout. “For God's sake, someone get a doctor in here!”

  Chapter Ten

  Today

  “Take all the time you need,” Thor replies. “I'm glad you called, Sophie. I was worried that...”

  His voice trails off for a moment. We've been skirting around the subject of the photos and videos that appeared online this morning, but it's clear from his tone of voice that he absolutely knows about them. And without wishing to be cynical, I can't help wondering whether he's seen them all. The cynical part of me thinks there's no doubt, but I still cling to the hope that there are decent people in the world, people like Thor and some of my other friends, who refused to look. And even if they looked, they should know me well enough to know that most of the pictures are fake.

  “We have a weekend coming up,” he continues. “Take some more time off and see how you feel on Sunday evening.”

  “My client accounts -”

  “I've already shared those out to the others,” he adds. “Believe it or not, we really can manage without you for a few days. Try to relax over the weekend and we'll have a discussion on Monday morning. I think we'll have a lot to talk about, concerning how we move forward with all of this.”

  “Am I -”

  Before I can finish the sentence, I realize I can hear a repetitive clicking sound on the other end of the line, as if Thor is tapping something with his mouse every few seconds.

  I pause, feeling a faint churning sensation in my gut. And pain, too. Something hurts deep down.

  “I really value my role in the office,” I continue, just in case he's thinking about firing me. “I want you to know that when I come back on Monday, I want to throw myself straight back into my work.”

  “I'm sure you do, and -”

  “And I also -”

  “I have to think about the company's image,” he adds, interrupting me. “If clients are being sent links to material that...”

  His voice trails off.

  I feel a shudder run through my chest. At the same time, I can still hear him clicking that mouse. I tell myself that he's just getting on with some work, but in the back of my mind I can't help wondering whether he's looking through the pictures.

  “Let's talk about this on Monday,” he adds finally. “Maybe it'll blow over during the weekend.”

  “I swear,” I reply, “I really -”

  Before I can finish, I feel the pain again. It's a sharp, slicing sensation low down in my belly, and for a moment it makes me feel just a little dizzy. Whatever's going on, it's been building for the past hour, but I've been telling myself that it's just a reaction to all this stress. Now it seems stronger and more insistent, as if a single, sharp-nailed finger is slowly dragging itself down through my gut.

  It's not the baby.

  It can't be the baby.

  “Are you okay?” Thor asks.


  “I'm fine,” I stammer, although I'm sure I sound awful. “I'll be in touch on Sunday evening, okay? We can discuss how to handle things when I get back to the office on Monday.”

  Once the call is over, I find myself just standing completely alone in the kitchen, unable to go anywhere else in the house. All I can think about is the people who work in the office, and the fact that every single one of them will undoubtedly have seen the photos and videos. They're probably gossiping right now, and re-watching the worst scenes. There's absolutely nothing left to the imagination in the fakes, nothing that isn't caught on camera in excruciating detail. I couldn't possibly be more embarrassed right now, and I just want to curl into a ball and disappear.

  “Damn it!” I hiss suddenly, feeling another sharp slicing sensation in my belly. This time it persists, getting worse and worse, and finally I take a couple of faltering steps back and sit on one of the chairs in the corner. When this doesn't help, I lean forward and realize that there's a cold, pinprick sweaty feeling on my forehead. “Toby?” I call out, hoping that he might be back from the shop already. “Toby, are -”

  As the pain hits again, I feel something wet in my underwear.

  “No,” I stammer, suddenly filled with a sense of panic. “Please, no...”

  Getting to my feet, I tell myself I'm wrong. I have to be wrong. But the pain is getting worse and by the time I reach the bathroom, I'm trembling with shock. I unbutton my jeans and pull them down, and then I slip my panties down to my knees.

  There's blood. Not a lot, just a few specks, but enough for me to know what's happening.

  “Toby!” I scream, as I hear the front-door opening. “Toby, we have to get to the hospital!”

  ***