Use Somebody: Plantain Series Book Four

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Use Somebody: Plantain Series Book Four Page 22

by Amelia Oliver


  “Maybe she doesn’t want anything from you…maybe she just needs some time,” Mom suggests.

  “Maybe,” I sigh, sipping my coffee.

  “At the end of the day, Daisy, you have to do what’s best for you…what makes you happy. She’s not living your life, and you’re not living hers. You can’t dictate your life by trying to make other people happy, by never taking a risk because it might bother someone else. You and Wyatt make sense to me, he clearly makes you happy, so unfortunately if Irys can’t support that then that’s her problem.”

  I know what she’s saying is true but damn, it’s so much easier said than done. She reaches her hand out across the table and I meet her with mine half way.

  “Massages?” she suggests.

  “Yessss,” I reply in a pleased tone, and she squeezes my hand.

  We get up from the table and as she moves toward the door, I bring her against me in a hug. She holds me tight and rubs my back and I close my eyes, thankful for her attempt to make me feel better.

  “Thanks Mom.”

  19

  UNKNOWN

  The way he watches her when she’s not looking, how he gazes at her with a little stupid smirk like he’s looking at the most magnificent creature he’s ever laid eyes on. I can’t stand it. He won’t look at her like that again once he sees her after I get my hands on her. I wonder when my plans set into motion if they will think so highly of one another. I can’t wait to take them down and ruin their happy little life together. It almost makes me insanely giddy knowing they have no clue they’re about to be destroyed. Seeing them happy, sitting there at lunch, unassuming, unknowing that I’m watching them and plotting. It’s almost too easy, but the time has come. Say goodbye to your love.

  20

  DAISY

  No matter how hard I attempt to talk to Irys again, I keep missing her. Thank God I have this book project to work on to take my mind off thing’s. It’s been a few weeks since she’s known about Wyatt and me, but it feels like an eternity. My alarm dings as a reminder it’s time to go pick my sister up from camp, so I put my pencil down and grab my purse. There’s a stack of mail sitting in front of my door, so I grab it and decide to read it when I wait for Abbey. As I pull my truck down my driveway, I see a car I don’t recognize park in front of my parents’ house and a forty something man get out. I sit there, watching as he walks up to the front porch and knocks on the door. Leaning over the seats, I roll the passenger side window down and tell him,

  “No one’s home.”

  He looks over at me and then his eyes widen. I don’t recognize the guy, but he seems like he recognizes me. Regardless, he gives me a weird feeling as he comes down the steps and toward me.

  “Come back later, my parents’ will be here after five,” I say and quickly pull out to the street.

  He waves his hand like he wants me to stop, but I don’t. I can’t explain why I have the urge to get away, I just do. I park outside the school and gather the letters sitting beside me. One’s from college, which I toss back onto the passenger seat. Then another with just my name on it, no address or return address, not even a stamp. I furrow my brows and open the seal. Unfolding the paper to see a typed letter.

  Fucking whore, fucking whore, fucking whore. You messed up the day you fucked with me. Just wait, you’ll pay.

  I swallow thickly and read it again, lifting it to see the other envelopes all have the same thing on them, just my name. Frantically I open them, pulling the letters out to read they all have the same text on them, just different variations with the same meaning.

  “What’s that?” I hear from the passenger window and bundle all the letters into my hand.

  “Nothing,” I tell Abbey as she opens the door.

  I shove them in the glovebox and try to calm my racing heart.

  “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” she asks, shoving her bag down by her feet.

  “Where are the twins?”

  “Staying after for some one-on-one with the coaches.”

  I feel marginally better when I pull onto Main Street, my nerves feeling a little less raw. Who would send me something like those letters? But they weren’t sent were they? Someone had to have brought them to the house. For a moment, I think Irys feels the words those letters said. But I don’t think she’d go that far to let me know how pissed she is.

  “What’s that?” Abbey says, knocking me out of my thoughts.

  “What?” I ask as were stopped at a light and I look around at the other cars.

  “Is that you?” she questions.

  I look over at her pointing out the window to one of the light posts. I squint and see, me.

  “Go get it,” I tell Abbey who gets out leaving the door open to snatch the paper down from the pole.

  She looks at it with wide eyes, handing it to me when she gets back to the truck. I take it from her and can’t believe what my eyes are seeing. It is me, a photo of me naked in front of the mirror, a photo I’d sent to Wyatt. The words ‘Daisy the Whore’ written in red marker all around it. My head shoots up and I see the same flyer plastered on every lamp post, stop sign, store front window, and under the windshield wipers of parked cars. I throw the truck into park and fling my door open, frantically ripping off and tearing down every one I see. Horns are honking as my truck blocks traffic. Abbey also tries helping me, until both our arms are bundled with sheets of paper. I feel tears scorching my cheeks as people look at me and point at the flyers, none of them even trying to help me. I lose track of Abbey, and find myself walking the entire street. Then Wyatt’s there, his hands grasping my arms as he looks at me with confusion, taking in my state. I show him the papers and he looks like he still doesn’t understand. Then my mom and dad and Maven are there, Abbey’s breathing heavy and I know she must’ve run to the garage to get them.

  “Help me!” I plead and they all disperse, except Wyatt.

  “Calm down, we’ll get them, take a deep breath.”

  I watch my dad go to my truck and drive it out of the way of blocking traffic, thanking Jesus he’s not going to see me naked in these flyers. I don’t know if we get them all, but I don’t see any as we gather around together on the sidewalk a few minutes later.

  “What’s this all about?” my mom asks, looking between Wyatt and I, angry as hell.

  “I don’t know, but today before this, I got a bunch of threatening letters.”

  “What?” my dad and Wyatt both reply loudly.

  “There wasn’t any address, I don’t know who dropped them off. This photo is from my phone, and only you’d have it,” I say looking at Wyatt.

  “Maybe someone got in my phone?” he replies.

  “Have you pissed anyone off lately?” Maven asks.

  “The night at the party, when Blake saw me in line for the bathroom. He begged me to come back to him, said he heard you and me were together, that he could give me everything you couldn’t. I didn’t tell him we were broken up then, but he said I’d regret not being with him, that he would do everything he could to prove to me that we should be together.”

  “I’m going to fucking kill him,” Wyatt says through gritted teeth.

  “But we don’t know who did this.” I look down at the flyers in my arms, pressing them into my chest so my dad can’t see them.

  “Who else could it be? Who else would try to be breaking us up and humiliate you?” he asks.

  We look at each other for a long moment before both saying, “Irys.”

  “No, no, she wouldn’t,” I quickly add.

  “Does she know the password to your phone?” he asks.

  “Well, yeah…but when would she have had access to it?”

  “She could have, who knows, more likely her than Blake, did he know your code?”

  “It’s not like a brain buster of a password, Wyatt,” I groan.

  “We’ll figure it out-”

  “Everyone in town fucking saw these Wyatt, how can I show my face in Plantain again?” my vo
ice rising.

  He hugs me tightly, rubbing his hand over my back.

  “Let me go get my stuff from the shop and I’ll come home,” Mom tells me, tucking hair behind my ear and running a thumb under my wet eyes.

  “I’m taking Daisy home,” Wyatt tells my dad and he nods.

  I let him guide me to my truck as Abbey, my mom, dad, and Maven walk down the street toward the shop. My mind is running in a blur, thinking of why someone would do this, what are they getting out of humiliating me. I feel like I can never show my face in town again, everyone’s seen me naked. My parents’ and family will be known as the one who’s related to the slut. Shame and guilt rest heavy on my chest, and I’ve never felt so bad in my life. I brought this on myself somehow. I don’t want to feel like I did something wrong by being sexual with my boyfriend, I only sent those things to him, it’s not like I posted them all around the internet or something. Then a wave of panic envelopes me, if someone was willing to print hundreds of flyers of me, what’s stopping them from doing the easier thing, posting it online.

  Wyatt pulls my truck up the driveway, and he barely puts it in park before I’m flinging my door open and running up the steps. He calls after me, following closely behind me. Bursting through the door, I zero in on my laptop sitting on my dining table and don’t even sit down, flipping up the screen as I hunch down.

  “What?” Wyatt asks breathing heavily as he stands beside me.

  I Google my name and the web search blows up with results. When I did this in high school, my volleyball stats and articles from the local paper would come up. Now all I see are dating site profiles and hardcore porn sites.

  “Oh my god,” I gasp and cover my mouth with my hand.

  Wyatt leans over, seeing what I’m looking at. I click on one of the hardcore porn pages and see photos of me, the ones printed out and plastered around town, along with the videos I’ve sent Wyatt of me masturbating. I feel my stomach flip flop and the urge to vomit is creeping up my throat. I go back to the main search and click on one of the dating sites.

  Daisy Westmore

  I’m 18, and love to fuck. Anal is my favorite, and I love having more than one cock at a time. I also enjoy when random men come to my house unannounced and force their way in, overpowering me and fucking me as I scream for them to stop. Make sure you come during the day when my parents aren’t home, I don’t want them to hear me screaming with pleasure as you fuck me.

  My address is:

  9987 Foreman Drive, Plantain-

  I click out and go back to the main page, trying to find a way to contact the site. My hands are shaking, my body and senses in shock. Wyatt takes over and I stand as he takes my seat, and I make a b-line to the bathroom. I’m tossing the lid up on the toilet just as I start vomiting, kneeling down and retching into it. This can’t be happening, whoever did this put my fucking address in there. That’s a whole other level of fucked up, and one I don’t think Irys would go to just because she’s hurt. Someone, a fucking stranger, could’ve come to my house. Oh God maybe they have and I haven’t been home, a new wave of bile hurdles up from my stomach as I think of how many times I’ve come home from class in the middle of the day with no one home. It seems like I sit hours on the floor, crying and dry heaving. I hear Wyatt in the other room I assume on his phone as he unleashes hell on whoever’s on the other end. He’s telling them to take it down or he will sue them. Then he curses as there’s silence, then I hear,

  “Irys this better not be you-”

  I groan and bury my face in my hands, I know in my heart of hearts it can’t be her. Please, please, don’t be Irys, I repeat in my head. Then Wyatt’s quiet before he says, “I need to speak with Chief Milton.”

  I groan and bury my face in my hands, then there’s a knock on the front door of the loft, and I hear my mom. Moments later, the bathroom door opens and she’s on her knees, taking me into her arms.

  “Oh Daisy baby, it’ll be okay,” she repeats over and over as she pets my hair.

  “No Mom!” I cry as I pull back. “The fucking flyers are the least of it, whoever’s doing this put shit about me on the internet, offering me for gang bangs and gave our address!” I sob.

  Her face falls and Wyatt comes into the doorway, looking defeated.

  “Milton says he’s going to look into it, cyber-crimes aren’t something Plantain PD has much experience with, he’s going to make some calls.”

  “Did you contact the website to take it down?” Mom asks me, her voice growing with panic.

  “They said since I don’t have the login information, they can’t take it down.”

  My mom asks Wyatt for the phone number and leaves the room, Wyatt resuming her position on the floor with me.

  “Why is this happening? What the fuck did I ever do to deserve this?” I state, because I know there’s no answer.

  “It’ll get settled, it will, we’ll do everything we can.”

  The evening’s a blur, my mom calls the websites and unleashes hell, telling them there are underage children who live at the address provided and this is a fraudulent account. Still, nothing can be done. Chief Milton comes over and we go into the main house and sit around the dining room table, and I listen in a fog as my parents and Wyatt talk to him. Part of me is dying with this, regret, sadness, anger, I’m overloaded with it that it’s too much and I feel vacant.

  “Well frankly, I think your son is doing this,” Wyatt says sternly.

  “Why do you think that?” Milton asks.

  “He’s been after her since they broke up, he even told her he’d do everything he could to make her break up with me to get her back. These photos and videos are things she’s sent me and only me in an attempt to make her think I did this.”

  There’s silence for a moment.

  “Are you doing this?”

  Wyatt stands, knocking his chair back as he points a finger in Milton’s face.

  “How fucking dare you, look at her, you think I want her to be going through this? Fuck you!” he yells.

  “Okay, come on,” my dad says, standing and pulling Wyatt back. “No one think’s you’re the one doing this, he’s trying to rule out who it is.”

  I look down at my hands, embarrassed that all this is happening. Milton tells us that he will do his best to find out what he can do and talk with Blake, also telling me he’ll have a squad car patrol our neighborhood regularly. After he leaves we sit at the dining room table, I can’t look at anyone, feeling so ashamed.

  “Until this gets resolved, I want you to stay home and someone to be with you at all times,” Dad says.

  “Maybe my parents’ house would be safer,” Wyatt says.

  “Or Missy’s,” Mom says.

  “Maybe Missy’s would be best, that way she can stay with you,” Dad amends.

  My mom gets up and goes into the kitchen and I hear her greet Missy on the other end of the phone. I sigh and rub my face with my hands, and Wyatt’s strong arms wrap around my shoulders. I pack a bag, just tossing random shit into it because I don’t give a fuck about clothes when the shit’s hitting the fan. My dad pulls my truck into the garage and gives Wyatt the keys to his truck since Wyatt left his bike at the shop. My mom kisses me and tells me she will call me tomorrow and they will all come over for dinner. My dad hugs me tight and tells me not to worry, but I can see worry all over his face. I feel so incredibly stupid that this, something I fucking did, is adding to all the other bullshit they’ve had to deal with. I can barely look them in the eye as Wyatt backs the truck out.

  “Come in sweet girl,” Missy greets us at the back door.

  We walk into the kitchen where there’s dinner sitting at the small table there, but the smell and sight of it causes no reaction, even though I haven’t eaten in hours.

  “Sit, we’ll eat,” she tells us.

  “I’m gonna go to bed actually,” I say.

  They both look at me, and I ignore the sadness in their eyes.

  “You sure?” Wyatt asks.
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  “Yes, I need a shower and sleep, I think that’ll help.”

  I give them my brightest smile, not caring if they don’t believe it.

  “Thank you for letting me stay,” I tell Missy, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

  “Anything for you,” she smiles.

  I walk to the steps leading upstairs and don’t stop until I’m at the bathroom and close the door gently. My fingers flip the lock and I turn my back against the door, slowly sliding down onto my butt. The tears come, fat, hot tears. I cover my face and bring my knees up, I feel a gut wrenching sob creeping up from my stomach, so I reach over and grab one of the bath towels on the rack beside me. I clutch it with my fingers and bring it to my face, muffling the sounds of my pain. I let it out, but being mindful to be as quiet as I can. A knock on the wood above my head has me holding my breath.

  “I’m leaving your bag by the door,” Wyatt tells me.

  I inhale a shuddering breath, swallowing, before replying softly, “Okay.”

  He says nothing, but I know he’s still standing there. I get up and turn the shower on, standing in the middle of the bathroom and waiting to hear if he walks away.

  “I’m going to take your dad’s truck back, and then get my bike, so I’ll be back soon.”

  “All right,” I say, my voice a little stronger now but it sounds like I’ve been crying.

  “Daisy-” he says, then stops.

  “Drive safe,” I tell him.

  “I love you,” he says after a long moment.

  “I love you,” I reply and my chin begins to warble.

  During my shower, I scrub and wash, over and over. I don’t realize how long I’ve been in there until the water turns cold and I have to get out. The mirror is fogged which is fine, because I don’t want to look at myself right now. My skin is red and tender as I wrap a towel around my body. Opening the door, I hear the soft voices of the television on downstairs in the living room. I grab my bag off the floor and see a lamp on in the spare bedroom I always use when I stay here. Opening my bag, I pull out the contents because I don’t remember if I packed sleep clothes or not. Luckily I find Wyatt’s PJ pants in the bottom, with an old volleyball camp t-shirt. My hands move to undo my towel, and then I get a sick, creeping feeling crawl over my skin. I look over at the opened windows, the blinds open, the sheer drapes pushed back. Hurriedly, I rush over, closing the windows, the blinds, and yanking the curtains closed. Clutching the towel close to my chest, I feel my heart racing beneath it. I’m not going to fool myself that whoever this person is who’s tormenting me won’t be able to find me. I startle as a knock at the bedroom door cuts through my fear. My head shoots over toward it, and I see Irys peeking her head in. We lock eyes, and in moments we’re moving toward one another and hugging.

 

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