The Friend

"Hello."

An unfamiliar chat box popped up. I kindly accepted the message but hesitated to reply. Instead, I checked his profile just to see more content than a usual social media stalker would have.

I almost found myself enjoying his photos when suddenly he sent another message.

"Seen?" the text read.

"Sorry, what is it?" I replied.

"You study at CHS?" another one read.

Oh, I thought, it's just someone from the school.

"Yeah, why?"

"I'm just curious since you have a Swiftie tag in one of your post..." he said.

"Oh why, are you too?" I excitedly replied.

"Heck yeah."

A smile formed on my lips as our conversation got deeper and personal. I've never felt so open to another person before than right now. He seems so carefree and warm to talk with even though were screens away from each other.

Weeks pass like the weather. My late evenings became alive with sleepless laughter to Frank's jokes. Mom grew a concern to my bad routine but I ignored everything that she said.

Never in my life I have felt so close to a person who is physically very far away from me. A person who became a special friend for an introvert like me.

I craved for his quick but long replies. I wasted hours staring at the same old pictures of him. He mentioned that he isn't fond of posting his face that much on which I can fully relate.

Suspicions and his ambiguity never poisoned my mind. I was contented until one night, he suddenly asked for a meet-up.

"Why?" I asked.

"I want to see you in person. Know you better. Cause I don't wanna be stuck in this computer screen forever, relying here just to talk to you," he replied.

"Isn't this enough?

"It's time for us to become real friends, Anna."

My hands trembled as I thought of a reply. I wasn't ready to be on this level of social relationships yet.

I swallowed the frog in my throat, pressing each key deliberately. "Sure," I told him. "Where?"

"Back of the school. The unused entrance. You okay with that?"

"You're weird. Let's just meet at the canteen."

"Alright," he agreed. "After class tomorrow." He subsequently sent stickers of excitement. I smiled at my faint reflection on screen. I assured myself that everything going to be okay.

It was 4 in the afternoon when the bell rang its dismissal. I snatched my backpack and left our room quickly, heading to the canteen. Most of the vendors there has already left with their stuffs that they sell and only a few students were constantly entering then leaving the area.

I sat in one of the vacant long benches and waited. Camille, our top student in our class, passed in front of me. She dumped herself into the corner, sitting on a chair with a table in front of her.

I observed her as she took out a laptop from her bag and a white folder. By the looks of it, she went martyr again for her useless group mates on their research project.

Time passed. It's 5:10 and Frank hasn't still arrived. He has probably threw our plan on the waysides. I am concerned of my Mom getting worried too so I finally decided to give up and go home.

Before I leaved, I looked back around for the last time with hopes, but only spotted Camille as the only person left inside.

I didn't bother to say goodbye but ran hastily. I immediate bumped into someone and fell to my face on the dirty cemented ground.

The guy I bumped helped me up. He was tall and dark as he was wearing a mask and I can't see his facial features clearly due to the dim light of the late afternoon. He didn't say anything but he turned away and walked into the canteen. I felt a strange pinch in my stomach but I snapped myself to hurry and proceeded on my way out of the gate in eager.

The next day, all I heard was Camille's name. On the newspaper that Dad reads every morning, on our local TV network, from my neighbors, from my classmates, if that's not enough, almost from the entire school.

I came home early afternoon after school and went up into my bedroom despite mom's sermons about staying safe at school.

I sank into a corner beside the window. I let my whole existence process the information that Camille died of a murder by an unknown cyber stalker. "Her body was unsalvageable as," as the news reporter would say.

I felt numb with all the guilt in my veins. I breathe shortly, as if the walls are incapacitating me.

Pulling myself up by the window sill, I look out the window to see the overview of the town and the bustling city ahead.

The twilight twinkled behind the trees. I feel the air on my face get colder.

He's still out there. He knows by now that he killed the wrong girl. He will be following me for the rest of my life until he gets me. I have to tell someone. But how?

I'm the most stupid talker in the world. I can't even tell someone that I'm angry. But it's my life that depend on here. I gotta do something.

I walked away from the window and went down to the kitchen. My graceful mother who was leaning over the dishes, was caught off guard by my presence.

"Mom," I said. "I have something to tell you."

The End.

Keep safe.