Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
MOLLIE
I’m not an idiot. I know about grooming and about not giving out your details online. Our teachers at school have been warning us about it for years. I know not to have location turned on when I’m gaming and everything.
So how had I been so stupid as to fall for it?
The message came through about an hour after I’d sent the photograph.
How would you feel if your friends saw this picture of you naked?
I stared at the words. My stomach prickling, face getting warmer. Why was he asking that? What was I supposed to say?
I wouldn’t like it. Obviously.
The reply was almost immediate.
Then you need to send me money. Or I’ll send a message to everyone you know and post this picture online.
What was this about? What was happening? It was such a shock that, to begin with, I still clung to the hope that it was some kind of joke.
What are you saying? I thought we were…friends? I thought you ? —
You’ve been so silly, Mollie. You sent the photo. If you want me to delete it, you’ll need to pay.
My head spun trying to work out what was happening. Roman was blackmailing me? Ten minutes before we were planning to meet up, he’d said he was falling for me, that I was beautiful and sexy and…It was all a lie? He didn’t mean it? I was such a stupid, stupid idiot. As if a boy who looked like that would want to be with someone like me.
I pushed my fist into my stomach to stop the churning that was making me feel sick. The tone of these messages had changed completely. Was this still Roman? Had someone else got into his phone? Did Roman even exist? My whole body started to tremble with shock and fear.
I don’t have much money.
Then you need to find some. I want five hundred pounds.
Five hundred pounds? There was no way I could get that much money without asking my parents and even the thought of telling them…no. I didn’t want anyone to know about this. Ever. Shame burned my face as I typed a reply.
I can’t get that much.
I stared at my phone screen. Waiting for a response. Dad called up the stairs. ‘Mollie! Dinner’s ready!’
I left the phone on my bed. Covered with a blanket – the one Mum had had made for me with pictures of all of our family holidays printed onto it. Looking at all those happy faces – me and Ben eating ice cream, Dad with me on his shoulders, Mum and I trying on funny hats – made my heart ache with fear. What would those faces look like once they knew what I’d done?
I had to try and think straight. As far as I knew, he couldn’t send an image to people I knew unless they added him. But it only needed one, didn’t it? One person to see the photo and tell everyone. Then they’d add him to see it. Or share it themselves. Like fire, it would spread through everybody I knew. It would destroy me.
Since Mum and Ben had left, Dad and I had got into the habit of eating with our dinner on our laps in front of the TV, so it was easy to stay quiet as I pushed spaghetti bolognese around my plate. The voice of the newsreader droned in the background as I watched Dad. Should I just tell him? He could make it go away, couldn’t he?
But Dad was a police officer, there was no way he’d agree to just pay the money to Roman – or whoever it was at the end of that Snapchat account. He would make me report it, wouldn’t he? And then they would release the photo and my life would be over.
‘Everything alright with your dinner?’
Dad nodded towards my plate where I’d moved the spaghetti into the meat. Twirling the tangled strands of pasta around my fork rather than eating it. ‘It’s fine. I’m just not that hungry. I had a big lunch at school.’
That was a stupid thing to say. Dad could easily check my school meal account and see that I’d bought nothing from the canteen that day. I rarely did. It took too long to line up and wait. But Dad wasn’t likely to check. Mum was the one who’d do that every so often. Nag me if I’d been skipping lunch.
Even that had changed since she left. She didn’t have the time now to be checking up on everything I did. She left that to Dad. And Dad? Well, he’d been out a lot more lately. Left me alone a couple of evenings each week at least. I was on my own with this. But I was going to have to get that money from somewhere.
After I’d managed to push down enough dinner to stop Dad from being concerned, I returned to my room and retrieved the phone from under the blanket.
I can get the money. Please don’t send the photo to anyone.
I hadn’t planned to steal the money from Miss Martin. She’s my favourite teacher – I love her English lessons and she’s always got time for us if we want to chat after class. But I was alone in her room and she’d left her bag under the desk. It was open and her purse was right there. It felt like the only option I had. So I just took it and went to slip it into my bag. Unfortunately for me, she came back just as I was doing it.
It was one of the worst moments of my life seeing the look of shock on her face. There was so much disappointment there. Like I’d physically hurt her. She asked why I’d done it. Whether there was anything I wanted to tell her. My mouth was empty. I had nothing. No excuse. And I couldn’t tell her the truth because then that disappointment would turn to disgust.
She had to report it. I understood that. It was weird in a way that I didn’t care about being suspended from school. It was actually a relief. Not having to face anyone there. I begged Dad not to tell Mum; I just needed to buy some time before she turned up here asking a million questions. He was completely confused. Had no idea why this had happened.
On Saturday, he tried to talk to me about it, but I had to keep it all locked inside. Still hoping that I could find a solution. I sent the money I had in my account – nearly three hundred pounds – and begged ‘Roman’ to let that be enough.
You still owe us two hundred. Or the picture will go live.
In my imagination, they were enjoying this, torturing me. I tried so hard to think of a solution. A way to get that money. If I hadn’t been caught stealing, maybe I could’ve invented a school trip and told Dad I needed the money. He’d been so distracted lately that there was a chance he wouldn’t check, wouldn’t speak to my mum about it.
Now though, he wouldn’t believe a word I said. I couldn’t go to him for the money. So where was I going to get it?