What Happens In Vegas (Miniminter / Calfreezy)

Part 22 - Unworthy

'What the fuck she's so ugly'
'He could do so much better'
'She's fat'
'She's not even pretty'
'Her skin is awful'
'There is nothing good about her' #saveminiminter
'She's reaching so far for him'
'She's fucked #saveminiminter'
'She went to this school'
'I know this guy who dated her and apparently she's a huge slut'
'She's a fake fan, she's just doing it to get noticed #saveminiminter'

Tweet after tweet, calling out every inner thought you'd already had about yourself, that you weren't good enough, that you were nothing, and worse - rumours coming from nowhere and being spread about things that weren't real. The worst was your person photos taken from your social media sites and spread across Twitter and Tumblr like it was nothing - pictures of yourself you loved being torn apart piece by piece.
There were some good tweets amongst the bad, defending you or arguing that everyone should let Simon be happy, but they were so rare and their positivity couldn't drown out the negativity that swept it's way into your heart and brain.

'Simon will be out of these so fast, at the pier he pretended he didn't even know her, probably just wanted to get laid #saveminiminter' 
That one stuck with you, it was from one of the girls who had seen you at the pier, one of the ones who'd released the photos of you getting into the cab - and while you tried to tell yourself if was just jealousy, it was bringing out all the worry and nerves you'd already felt all day.

It was escalating by the second  - they'd linked your twitter account and screenshots of tweets you'd previously sent the Sidemen & your friends were being aired out to everyone - every cute/ weird/ cringe thing you'd ever said, every picture you'd ever posted - your life was being mocked and judged by other people, it was your worst nightmare.
You were a fangirl, you'd seen this happen before to others, but you'd never seen it so insane and angry, and you never thought one day you'd be in the firing line. And that hashtag was starting to be impossible to miss and its mere existence cut into your heart and spilt into every section of you, filling it with pain. Just the thought that people could start sending a hashtag viral about your existence hurting Simon - was as if you were some kind of crippling disease that had sent him to hospital, not a fan, not a girl who had met a boy, not even a human... it amount you to nothing.

You looked up and stared at yourself in the mirror, tears rolling off your cheeks and started to see things you hadn't seen today, and started to think things about yourself you hadn't thought in years, or ever. Your eyes scanned over yourself and your brain pulled out the flaws; where your make up wasn't running down your face it wasn't even, your hair was choppy and dry, your arms weren't toned, your legs were huge, you had rolls on your body, your skin was blemished, you were short, the dress you'd always loved wearing now made you hate yourself for buying it.
Who were you kidding - how could you ever have thought you were someone special enough to go onto a date with someone like Simon Minter?
Was it a date though? Did he just bad for you for using you in Vegas and pulling you into drama so this was his way to try and fix it? Was all the joking and cute teasing actually mocking? Was his 'wow' to what you wore today and how you looked in a positive way like you took it, or was it actually negative?
Did you catch a flight to become some part of a big joke?

You suddenly felt like you were back in the elevator in Vegas after the fight, the bathroom walls were enclosing on you while you struggled to catch your breath, while the thoughts of what everyone was saying online spun around in your mind, amplified and made worse by your own brain - and your phone, your fucking phone wouldn't stop flittering; notifications running down the screen continually, vibrations coming through every few seconds as people texted you and messages came through. Messages from your friends, from acquaintances, from people who met through Tumblr, who you'd met talking about Youtubers, talking about people including Simon, who you'd thought were your friends - mostly who wanted goss, or to tell you they hated you, mixed in with messages of "are you okay?"
You suddenly hated it - your phone - an item which you'd kept safe and undamaged, and had used in so many happy occasions, was now the enemy. It wouldn't let you escape from it all, it just kept lighting up and vibrating and reminding you that your life was on display and you were so far from perfect it wasn't hard for it to show you that.  Painfully, the noise of your phone was combined with a continual knocking on the bathroom door, adding to the sound and the panic, making the room compact closer to your body and leaving you heaving for air in a corner. It suddenly all became came too much and you threw your phone across the room, watching it hit a mirror on the wall and cause glass to splinter out with it into a million pieces, before it landed with a thud on the floor, and instantly the buzzing stopped, everything just stopped. 

The silence that followed was welcome, and the walls seemed to open out more, making the air easier to breathe and the rest easier to take in, but your brain and body knew you couldn't stay here - you had to get out - you had to get away - now...