Chapter 21 Nora #2
‘So that’s it? Because I didn’t allow a psycho, manipulative, lying asshole into my life, you decided to publish an online article completely exposing every part of it? Take over the social media accounts I’ve spent years building? My life is not yours to control.’
Riley swallows, and for a second, I think I see a flash of regret in her eyes, but it’s gone quickly. Silence stretches between us. She opens her mouth, then closes it again.
‘I hope the clicks were worth it,’ I say quietly.
‘I hope ruining my life has made you happy. You’re never, ever going to be a part of my life.
’ I take her in. A girl with meek eyes, who is even shorter than me, when I’m always the shorter one among my friends.
‘I feel so sorry for you. What a pathetic life you live.’
Then I turn and walk away, hoping I never have to see her face again.
I’m curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked under me, sleeves of my favourite cardigan pulled over my hands. The living room smells faintly of microwave popcorn – my favourite comfort snack – and the lavender candle that Anya always has burning.
Cami is sprawled across the lounge, her long legs dangling over the back of it, and Anya is beside her, chewing at her thumbnail.
She has her laptop open on her lap, her eyes moving furiously as she reads.
They have been talking for the last hour, trying to make sense of it.
I feel like a ghost of myself. I have no tears left to cry and now I’ve gone numb, staring ahead.
Zayden has helped. He’s talked me through a lot of spirals.
He also came with me to the police station to make a report on Riley and everything that happened.
I had low expectations about the whole thing but was pleasantly surprised by how seriously it was taken, and I believe they have already been in contact with Riley.
I’m not sure what happens with it all, but the evidence I supplied is enough to warrant a Domestic Violence Order, meaning she is not able to be near me anymore.
‘I still can’t believe it was Riley,’ Cami says, shaking her head. ‘She seemed like a total boring loser. No offence. I just did not expect that from her.’
‘I don’t think anyone did,’ Anya says. ‘Not that I know her at all, but judging from what I’ve seen.’
I stay quiet. I keep thinking about all the messages.
Fans. Haters. I haven’t dared to open any messages from people I used to know, or my dad’s side of the family.
They’ve called me – I wouldn’t be surprised if Riley sent them a direct link to the article, given, she knows everyone in my life – so they would have absolutely seen it.
They’ve probably looked up my books. Read the reviews.
God forbid they might have even read the books themselves.
‘She made it sound like you were some kind of manipulator,’ Anya huffs.
‘Like you were lying to everyone. Like … you write books. Fiction books. If people think you’re writing about them …
if the shoe fits …’ She shrugs. ‘I just don’t think it needed to be blown up and thrown out to the world like that. She’s a super shitty person.’
‘I wasn’t trying to be a bad person,’ I say softly. ‘I just wanted to vent and let out my trauma and frustrations in my writing. I loved that I could keep it separate. She’s stolen that from me.’
‘Have you heard from your publisher?’ Anya asks, looking concerned.
I nod. ‘Yeah. They’re obviously doing everything they can to support me.
They’re incredible, but ultimately, my book sales have sky-rocketed, so they’re stoked about that.
They want me to jump on this with interviews and whatnot.
They think they can spin this in my favour, especially with the film news dropping soon. ’
‘That’s kind of good, right?’ she replies.
‘Like, this has happened and it’s out of your control, but they’re suggesting you take control and roll with it.
I don’t think it would be bad to explore that idea, but I understand it’s a massive thing and I honestly don’t know what I would do in your shoes. ’
Cami looks over at me. ‘You know what this means though, right?’
‘What?’ I ask her, rubbing my temples, feeling a headache brewing behind my eyes.
‘You’re free.’
I blink. ‘Free?’
‘Yeah. No more hiding the fact that you’re literally writing international bestsellers. Screw them. You can own it now.’
Anya nods. ‘Exactly!’
‘I’ve been reading some of the comments. People are obsessed with you. They love that you’re just a regular, normal person like them, out here doing all of that, while literally studying full-time. If anything, I think you’ve become a big inspiration.’
‘Yeah!’ Anya adds. ‘How empowering it must be, to be such an inspiration for other writers out there, just like you!’
I love what they’re saying and their enthusiasm, but I don’t know if I feel free or empowered.
I feel violated and exposed. Like my safety blanket has been ripped away from me and I’m not strong enough to endure what’s to come.
I never wanted to be in the public eye. That’s not what any of my writing was supposed to be about, but as I glance at the two of them – ranting, defending me, refusing to let me drown in it alone – I feel something else.
Like I’m being seen for the first time in my life. Like I’m being taken seriously.
Maybe this isn’t the be all, end all that I originally thought it was.