Chapter Seven Kaitlyn #2
They didn’t understand why she found this so troubling.
They didn’t understand that—as capricious as she could be—Amanda wasn’t callous.
She wouldn’t just vanish for months without a word.
Even if she was busy drinking herself into a stupor in New Orleans last week, she would have found her way back to Dad’s grave, to keep her promise.
Unless she ditched you, a voice hisses in the back of Kaitlyn’s mind. Unless she fucked off and didn’t even bother to let you know.
ShrinkGPT, the AI-assisted therapy app she’d started using a few months earlier, warned her about indulging these sorts of intrusive thoughts.
After confessing once that she feared everyone would leave her, the AI-therapy chatbot had Kaitlyn repeat the phrase Everyone will leave me for a full minute, over and over, while the app timed her.
And Kaitlyn did: “Everyone will leave me. Everyone will leave me. Everyone will leave me. Everyone will leave me. Everyone will leave me. Everyone will leave me. Everyone will leave me.” When the minute was up, the chatbot said, “See? Doesn’t that sound ridiculous?
” But for the rest of the day, Kaitlyn just kept hearing the phrase (Everyone will leave me.
Everyone will leave me. Everyone will leave me) until it felt like an incantation or a prophecy.
But surely Amanda wouldn’t vanish from her life without warning like their parents had; surely she knew that Kaitlyn couldn’t endure that kind of pain again. Amanda would not leave me, she tells herself, quieting that voice. Amanda would not leave me.
The elevator doors open on the twenty-fourth floor, and Kaitlyn makes her way to her desk, nodding at the few people she passes.
No one asks about her weekend, and she doesn’t stop to ask about theirs; it’s known by now that small talk isn’t her thing.
An initial case assessment is awaiting her attention, but first, she has her own task to complete.
Looking around first to make sure no one is peeking over her shoulder, Kaitlyn logs onto Reddit and navigates to the Missing Persons community.
Then she checks on the post she submitted last night.
A short press release about her sister’s disappearance had appeared on the Travis County Sheriff’s Office website, which Kaitlyn submitted to the subreddit, hoping to pique the interest of a few bored internet sleuths.
So far, the thread has generated one comment from a user named Stoner_Sandwich420: She looks hot.
She sighs. Not even Amanda’s thousands of social media followers seem to care about her disappearance as much as Kaitlyn expected.
After posting that call to arms on her sister’s Instagram Story (it was a good thing Amanda used the same password—geminibaby530—for just about everything), Kaitlyn had expected to be flooded with tips, theories, and search party volunteers.
Instead, all she received in response were a handful of likes and crying-face emoji reactions.
It makes her furious, really, if she thinks about it too long.
If a stereotypically “hot” white girl can’t get the attention of the police, what hope do the millions of other women who go missing every year have?
Maybe Kaitlyn just needs to help move things along.
After looking over her shoulder once again to make sure her coworkers are preoccupied, she creates a burner account.
No one will take her seriously if she comments on her own Reddit thread.
And she’s tired of not being taken seriously.
With the new username, she posts a screenshot of the Instagram Story she created last week, ending with that damning last line: I know he’s involved in Amanda’s disappearance, and I have proof.
If her warning about Townsend didn’t get the attention it deserved from Amanda’s Instagram followers, then perhaps it will here.
Does she have actual proof that Townsend did something?
No, not really. Just a ring, and a speeding car, and an unnerving story about a violent teen with a paintball gun.
Putting him on blast on the internet may be a massive mistake, but he’s her only lead.
And if she’s going to get people’s attention, she needs to give them something substantial.
She knows this, because she’s dying for something substantial to hold onto herself.
Alongside the screenshot, she adds a brief comment: Saw this on Amanda’s IG last week. Anyone got info on this Townsend Fuller guy?
Kaitlyn waits for a moment, then she refreshes the page. Nothing—but what did she expect? The internet is vast, and her missing sister is just another contribution to the unrelenting stream of sob story clickbait. This tragedy isn’t singular enough to cut through the noise.
The workday is endless, but eventually, Kaitlyn returns home. There she checks the page again and finds a miracle: A new comment has appeared on the thread under the screenshot.
She blinks in disbelief; is it just another troll? But this post from LivingstonTheDream seems to be genuine: I’ve actually met him. I work in VC and he pitched his healthcare startup, AutoInTune, to us last week. It was kind of a shitshow TBH. The user metrics seem like bullshit.
Once again, she refreshes the page. Another comment pops up from a different account. That does sound sus IMO. Plus his picture gives me the ick. Total psychopath vibes.
Then another. And then another.
Finally, she thinks. People are listening. People care.