suicide

photos

The club was pretty fun. It turned out that Anna's friends all happened to be guys, with one in the mix who was exactly my type: tall, with dark hair, forceful and confident, and a little controlling. I know, I know, I'm asking for trouble. But a little trouble is good once in a while. Plus, he and I hit it off right away. He sealed the deal when he took my phone, found my number and plugged it into his phone.

"I'm taking you out on Saturday. You better be ready at 8!"

I felt a thrill up my spine. Oh, hell yes, I would be.

I crashed at Anna's place. We spent the rest of the night watching shitty horror movies that we'd already seen a million times and making brownies. Well, actually, just the brownie batter, which we then ate raw. We passed out around 4AM and I went home around noon the next day – thank goodness I didn't have any Friday classes.

It wasn't until after I'd already showered and made myself some breakfast that I caught sight of the phone once again. I don't know why, but just looking at it made me uncomfortable. I decided I'd bring it to the cops that day.

I was about to throw it in my purse when the screen lit up.

New message: one attachment.

I slid the phone open. The text was from a restricted number again. I shivered.

I opened the attachment.

It was a picture. A picture of...me. Taken from inside the club when I was talking to Mr. Bad Boy. It was a close picture, too, taken no more than a few feet away from me.

I dropped the phone to the floor. I could practically feel my face draining, a white pallor settling into my cheeks.

My heart was racing like mad, but my brain went into practical mode.

Now I knew I didn't have the phone by accident. It was left outside of my apartment in hopes that I would find it. It made sense, didn't it? That silly little flimsy case would never have protected the phone from the hard concrete.

So why did they want me to have it? Clearly they wanted to harass me. Ok, but for what reason? I thought back to my dad. He was a cop, maybe it was someone he'd pissed off? Although it seemed unlikely, as I was pretty far from my hometown. Had I pissed anyone off lately? I wracked my brain but came up empty. I didn't have enough daily social interactions to piss anyone off, if I'm being honest.

But they had to know who I was. They'd followed me to the club, they'd taken my picture...and they'd sent the picture right when I picked up the phone.

Just as this thought registered, the phone went off again.

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

Restricted.

This time, there was no hesitation. I picked up the phone and said in a strong, angry voice, "Who the fuck is this? I don't have time to play your fucking games. Do you think I'm scared of a shitstain like you?" The expletives continued to pour out of my mouth.

Silence.

"Are you there?"

That same, toneless, emotionless voice. Click. Call ended.

I'll admit, I was pretty freaked out by this. I made the decision in a split second. I grabbed my backpack and filled it with a few necessities, grabbed both the phones, and ran out to my car. I jumped in, locking the door behind me, and sped off down the street, my eyes trained on the rearview mirror to ensure no one was following me.

I drove through town for a few hours, taking every turn that I could. In the meantime, I formulated a plan. Whoever this was, and whatever reason they had for doing this, I wasn't going to be victim of this stupid prank anymore.

Once I was sure I wasn't being followed, I pulled over and called Anna. I explained the situation to her over the phone and she agreed to let me stay at her place.

"I'll help you catch this fucker," she said.

About 20 minutes later, I arrived at her house. "Ok, let's catch him."

We sat in her living room and I took out my phone. If we were going to find out who this guy – or girl – was, we were going to need all the help we could get. And all that help consisted of this weird phone.

I slid the phone to unlock it and we stared down at it. Where do we start?

"Pictures," tried Anna.

"Right."

I clicked on the photo icon and started from the beginning.