Chapter 89
Kirsten
Just watched Maple’s dad totally destroy his wife on YouTube. Man, that family is fucked up. And I bet this is just the tip of the iceberg. Get the fucking popcorn in, guys
The room spins around me. I grip the kitchen countertop to stop myself from falling, but it’s pointless. Because I’m already falling. Hurtling down a treacherous ravine toward hell on Earth. A lonely divorcee. A social media pariah. Canceled.
How could Garrett do this to me? At my most vulnerable, I trusted him with my terrible secret. But instead of offering sympathy, he took my children, then told the world about my one mistake. Without telling them how much I love Maple. How desperately I want her back.
The video has finished uploading now. There for anyone to watch, now and forever.
Unless I can convince Dylan to take it down.
Or Maple, if she ever comes back to me. The comments are multiplying too.
Tens, hundreds, soon there will be thousands.
Thousands of people who will blame me for this.
Not Blake, the sick freak who started the conversation, but me.
A mom who just wanted the world for her daughter.
I shouldn’t read the comments. But, like some form of self-torture, I do.
WTAF? Some women shouldn’t be allowed to have kids
I thought we’d peaked with psycho influencer moms, but clearly not
Sending photos of a child on Telegram? Isn’t that a crime?
I used to love their Mom there’s nothing from Maple. Just a new voicemail from Provo police department.
This is Detective Nicholls. Mrs. Clark, my colleague Detective Martinez has spoken with your husband about an individual called Blake who we believe could be central to our investigation.
I appreciate this is a difficult time for you, especially as you’re also dealing with, um, domestic tension.
But it is vital that we speak to you about this, so please call me asap.
Panic twists my insides. I don’t want to call her. To explain, again. Hear judgment and damnation in her voice. How is it that when lonely cat ladies are duped by Nigerian fraudsters pretending to love them, everyone feels sorry for them, but when I get deceived, I’m the one at fault?
I had such big dreams. It was supposed to be Mom and Maple forever. Now Maple’s gone, and I’m being canceled. And all that’s left is a YouTube channel that nobody’s watching. Nobody except pervs and pedos and podcasters hunting for ever more content to hang me with.
The doorbell rings, and I just know who it will be. I imagine her, leaning against our front door, peering through the glass side panels, her hair neatly tied back and gun holstered. I wonder for a moment if I should hide upstairs. Or escape through the backyard.
But I’m Kirsten Clark. I don’t run away.
I grab my emergency lipstick from the cutlery drawer, touch it up in the fridge’s reflection, and go to greet Detective Nicholls.