Reality check

1018 Worte
πŸŒ‘ CTRL πŸŒ‘ πΆβ„Žπ‘Žπ‘π‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿ π‘‡π‘€π‘œ...... Tami didn't sleep. Not really. She laid in bed, scrolling through comment after comment, DM after DM - watching her reputation unravel in real time. GHSpillz had gone viral overnight. Everyone was talking. Some laughed. Some reposted. Some added fuel. "π‘‡β„Žπ‘–π‘  𝑖𝑠 π‘€β„Žπ‘¦ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’ π‘π‘Žπ‘›'𝑑 π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘ π‘‘ π‘”π‘–π‘Ÿπ‘™π‘  π‘€β„Žπ‘œ π‘€π‘’π‘Žπ‘Ÿ π‘Žπ‘›π‘–π‘šπ‘Žπ‘™ π‘π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘›π‘‘ π‘’π‘£π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘¦π‘‘π‘Žπ‘¦." "πΉπ‘Žπ‘˜π‘’ π‘“π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘’π‘›π‘‘π‘  π‘‘π‘œπ‘›'𝑑 π‘‘π‘’π‘ π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘£π‘’ π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘Žπ‘™ π‘œπ‘›π‘’π‘ ." "π·π‘Žπ‘Žπ‘Žπ‘šπ‘šπ‘šπ‘›π‘›π‘›! π΄π‘™π‘–π‘Ž 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑠 π‘‘π‘œ π‘ π‘€π‘–π‘‘π‘β„Ž π‘ π‘žπ‘’π‘Žπ‘‘π‘  𝐴𝑆𝐴𝑃!" Tami's group chat was silent. Only Clara texted her. "π·π‘œπ‘›'𝑑 π‘€π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘Ÿπ‘¦. π·π‘œπ‘›'𝑑 π‘ π‘Žπ‘¦ π‘Ž π‘€π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘‘. π‘Šπ‘’ π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘‘π‘’ π‘‘β„Žπ‘–π‘  π‘€π‘Žπ‘£π‘’ π‘žπ‘’π‘–π‘’π‘‘. π‘‚π‘π‘£π‘–π‘œπ‘’π‘ π‘™π‘¦ 𝐢𝑇𝑅𝐿 β„Žπ‘Žπ‘  π‘ π‘‘π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘‘π‘’π‘‘ π‘Žπ‘”π‘Žπ‘–π‘›...𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐺𝐻𝑆𝑝𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑧. 𝐡𝑒𝑑 π‘‘β„Žπ‘–π‘  𝑖𝑠 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’π‘–π‘Ÿ π‘“π‘–π‘Ÿπ‘ π‘‘ π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘œπ‘. π‘‡β„Žπ‘Žπ‘‘ π‘€π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘Ž π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘Žπ‘π‘‘π‘–π‘œπ‘›, π‘‘π‘œπ‘›'𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’π‘š π‘œπ‘›π‘’." Tami didn't reply. She stared at the ceiling. She'd trusted that the message was deleted. Gone. But now, CTRL had it. They had her. The walk through Eden Heights that morning felt different. Not loud. Not quiet. Just....off. Tami wore all black: a cinched blazer dress with silver zipper details and black leather boots. Statement hoops, her hair slicked into a power ponytail, face unreadable. Some people greeted her. Some didn't. Some looked away too quickly. Others stared too long. It wasn't just gossip - it was judgement now. Alia waited by their lockers. Not scrolling. Not smiling. Just .... waiting. Their eyes met. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Alia walked away. No words. No greeting. Nothing. Tami swallowed hard. She walked past. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly. Whispers trailed her like perfume. "𝐷𝑖𝑑 π‘¦π‘œπ‘’ β„Žπ‘’π‘Žπ‘Ÿ π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘£π‘œπ‘–π‘π‘’ π‘›π‘œπ‘‘π‘’?" "π‘‡β„Žπ‘Žπ‘‘'𝑠 β„Žπ‘’π‘Ÿ 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑑 π‘“π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘’π‘›π‘‘, π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘”β„Žπ‘‘?" "π‘†β„Žπ‘’'𝑠 π‘Žπ‘™π‘€π‘Žπ‘¦π‘  𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 π‘—π‘’π‘Žπ‘™π‘œπ‘’π‘ . 𝐼 π‘˜π‘›π‘’π‘€ 𝑖𝑑!" Ms. Daphne, the school's counsellor, was addressing everyone with her usual sunshine energy. "....and let's all make sure to be kind this term. Eden Heights is a family...." Tami snorted internally. If Eden Heights was a family, then someone was definitely playing the wicked stepmother. Her phone buzzed and she checked it quickly. It was a message from Alia. "𝑀𝑒𝑒𝑑 π‘šπ‘’. π΄π‘’π‘‘π‘–π‘‘π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘–π‘’π‘š. π‘π‘œπ‘€." Tami felt her stomach twist. She could pretend she didn't see it. But that would make her look weak. And Tami Westwood was not weak. The auditorium was empty. Dim. Quiet. Tami stepped inside slowly, the heels of her leather boots echoing against the polished wooden floor. Alia was already there, dead center beneath the stage lights like a spotlight had summoned her. "You got my message," she said. "I did." A pause. "Was it real?" Alia asked, her voice too calm. Tami didn't answer. Alia tilted her head. "Tami did you really -" "I don't know what I said, Al," Tami snapped, voice like glass. "It was from months ago. You weren't supposed to see it. I didn't even know it still existed." "That doesn't make it better, Tam." "I didn't - " Tami hesitated. "I was venting, Al. I didn't mean any of it." "You were 𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔?" Alia laughed, but it came out forced. " Oh my goodness, Tami. You called me fake because you were 𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔?" "I was upset, that's it. You knew I liked him. And he -" Tami looked away. "He made his choice." "So you called me easy? A saint? Told someone I wasn't who I pretended to be?" Tami's throat burned. She didn't answer. Alia shook her head, hurt flashing across her face. "I defended you. Always. Even when people warned me." "Warned you about what?" "That you only cared about being top girl. About winning." Alia's voice broke a little. "Even if it meant burning me to do it." The silence that followed felt like free fall. Tami opened her mouth. Nothing came out. Alia turned and walked away. Tami stood there trembling in her boots, her heart pounding beneath her flawless outfit. On her way out of the auditorium, Tami ran into Clara. "Tami! Where on earth have you been? I've looked like l, everywhere for you. Ms. Daphne finished her address ages ago," Clara rushed on, concern written all over her face. "I was with Alia, " Tami said quietly. "Oh!" Clara nodded slowly. A pause. "So, how did it go?" Clara asked cautiously. Tami shook her head. "We've -" she sighed. "We had a fallout." "Oh, Tami, I'm so sorry -" Clara started. "It's okay, Clara. It's fine." Another pause. "I brought you coffee," Clara said gently, holding out a cup. "Oat milk, cinnamon, one sugar." Tami blinked at her. "Why are you being so nice to me?" Clara tilted her head. "Because I believe people change. And because you're not the villain in this story, Tami. You just need someone who won't leave." Tami took the cup. The rest of the day moved in a haze. Everyone was whispering. About CTRL. About the leak. About Tami. Some were calling it fake. Others weren't so sure. And Zayn Eden? Zayn was watching. The cafeteria was louder than usual. Tami sat with Clara and Cassie sat nearby, headphones around her neck, fingers flying across her laptop. She looked like she was working on something dangerous. Every now and then, someone's phone buzzed. And after they read the screen, they'd look at Tami. Then look away. Another post? She grabbed her phone. Nothing. No new drop from GHSpillz. No CTRL update. Nothing at all. "Any idea who's running the @GHSpillz page or who's feeding them?" Tami asked, leaning towards Cassie. Cassie didn't look up. "Running? No. Feeding them? My best bet is CTRL. Then again, if I knew who was running the page, they'd probably be toast." Clara chucked. "Cassie doesn't like secrets." Tami stared at ther food, still untouched. "Neither do I." Later that night, a new post dropped. It was a video. A low quality hallway recording. Blurry, distant. But clear enough to hear a conversation - two people whispering about someone else. One voice said: "She's not ready for the truth. And when it comes, she'll break." The caption read: "𝐸𝑑𝑒𝑛 π»π‘’π‘–π‘”β„Žπ‘‘π‘  π‘’π‘Žπ‘‘π‘  𝑖𝑑'𝑠 π‘œπ‘€π‘›. πΉπ‘Ÿπ‘–π‘‘π‘Žπ‘¦ 𝑖𝑠 π‘π‘œπ‘šπ‘–π‘›π‘”. 𝐢𝑇𝑅𝐿 π‘›π‘’π‘£π‘Ÿ π‘šπ‘–π‘ π‘ π‘’π‘ ." Tami stared at the screen, hands shaking. Because the voice? She was almost certainly sure it was hers. But π‘ β„Žπ‘’ β„Žπ‘Žπ‘‘ π‘›π‘œ π‘šπ‘’π‘šπ‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘¦ π‘œπ‘“ π‘ π‘Žπ‘¦π‘–π‘›π‘” π‘‘β„Žπ‘œπ‘ π‘’ π‘€π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘‘π‘ .
Kostenloses Lesen fΓΌr neue Anwender
Scannen, um App herunterzuladen
download_iosApp Store
google icon
Google Play
Facebookexpand_more
  • author-avatar
    Schriftsteller
  • chap_listInhaltsverzeichnis
  • likeHINZUFÜGEN