At 11:50 that night, people started tagging me in the group chat.
I had already quit that group, but messages kept flooding in from numbers I didn't recognise.
They excitedly asked if my skin was itching, if the wound on my face had started oozing pus, and jeered and demanded I post a photo for their amusement.
Briar sent a voice message.
"Elara, you haven't hidden somewhere to cry alone, have you?
"Once the Scapegoat opens its eyes, it'll dump all the bad karma onto the host. Who knows what'll happen this time! Will you suddenly be covered in fur or suffocate to death!"
Briar was already looking forward to it.
I silenced my phone and sat before the mirror, removing the last layer of gauze from my face.
The burn was worse than I'd imagined, stretching from my cheekbone all the way
