The Toxic Friend

Prologue

I’ve been following them for so long now, I feel like I’m part of their lives.

I have seen them with their husbands and their children, with each other and work colleagues.

I’ve seen them in their homes and at work, out at restaurants and going to parties. I’ve watched them through the change of seasons, as the weather grew colder and T-shirts gave way to sweaters.

And I have taken pictures. So many pictures.

I have pictures of both of them looking happy, sad, angry, tired and bored.

I have pictures of them doing the things they should do and the things they shouldn’t.

Every phone is a camera. Everyone is always taking pictures.

Today, on this street where cafés and designer-clothing stores sit side by side, there’s a teenage girl taking a selfie and a mother cooing at a baby to get him to smile so that she can capture the perfect image to share with the world.

I watch the two of them exit a favourite coffee shop where they like to meet to catch up. They are laughing about something and I stifle the urge to run across the road and put an end to that laughter.

Instead, I lift my phone again and, click – I have another picture of them to add to my collection.

I will print out the image and stick it to the wall in a room I have designated for the task.

Blank white walls are now covered in colour with every moment of their lives documented.

And they have never noticed me, not once. They wouldn’t believe the scrutiny they’ve been under. It wouldn’t even occur to them to turn their heads and wonder about the person with the phone pointed in their direction because they think they’re safe in their perfect little lives.

But they’re not.

As they part, exchanging a quick hug, I remind myself that I need to be patient, to wait, because soon I will actually be part of their lives.

It’s nearly time to send them my message, to let them know I’ve been watching them and they’re not going to get away with the things they did. Two liars will be forced to tell the truth.

The past is coming back to bite these two women.

It’s me. I’m the past.

Here I come.