Their Favorite Toy

4

The day started with a familiar dread. Another headline, another barrage of comments, all slamming into my phone screen like I’d signed up for some relentless punishment. I could almost hear them laughing as they typed each word, gleefully picking apart everything they thought they knew about me.

My coffee was cold by the time I got halfway through reading. The words seemed to smudge together—a relentless stream of insults, all delivered by strangers who believed they had me figured out. They loved to hate me. They knew nothing about me, but that didn’t stop them from assuming I was exactly the brand of delusional, lovesick fool they needed me to be.

“This woman’s insane,” one comment read, perfectly polished in its casual cruelty. “Liam could do so much better. Imagine throwing yourself at someone who doesn’t even remember your name. Sad.”

Sad. Sure. Let’s call it that.

I hadn’t even left my apartment in days, but it didn’t matter. The world had found me, trapped in my little bubble of social shame. And no matter how many times I refreshed the screen or tried to distract myself, the buzz of my phone kept dragging me back, like an itch I couldn’t quite scratch.

I decided to brave the outside world. Maybe a breath of fresh air would change something. Or maybe I just wanted to prove I could still be normal, still walk outside and pretend like everything was fine. I pulled on my coat, grabbed my sunglasses, and made my way out the door.

The city was a mess of noise, cars blaring, people rushing, and every so often, a flash of a phone screen as someone’s thumb scrolled through the same headlines that haunted me. I kept my head down, but paranoia crawled up my spine. Every stare felt like it lasted a beat too long, every whisper seemed to follow me, echoing in my head. Maybe I was being dramatic, but then again, I hadn’t exactly signed up to be public enemy number one.

I ducked into a coffee shop on the corner, hoping for a moment of peace. The barista barely glanced at me as I ordered, which was a relief. At least someone wasn’t interested in dissecting my life today. I found a seat in the back, cradling my coffee like it was some sort of shield, hoping it would mask the tightness in my throat and the sting in my chest.

And then it happened.

Two girls walked in, both of them carrying that same energy—heads down, talking in low voices, phones out and eyes flashing as they exchanged some scandalous piece of gossip. I didn’t even need to hear them to know they were talking about me. I just knew.

“She’s here, isn’t she?” one of them whispered, not so quietly.

The other one shot a glance in my direction, then laughed. “I wonder if she knows how pathetic she looks.”

Their voices were too loud, too intentional. They wanted me to hear. They wanted me to feel it, that slow, churning discomfort in my gut. And for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to look away. It was like watching a car crash, only this time I was the one behind the wheel, driving straight into disaster.

“Maybe she thinks Liam will still take her back.”

The words hit like a slap, sharp and stinging. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay quiet. I’d let them think they’d won, let them have their twisted satisfaction. But inside, something snapped.

I stood up, spilling my coffee across the table. The noise was loud enough to turn a few heads, but I didn’t care. I was done with the looks, the whispers, the relentless pity wrapped in thin layers of scorn.

I stormed out of the shop, barely aware of where I was going, my footsteps pounding against the pavement like I could somehow outrun the anger bubbling inside me. I walked for what felt like hours, weaving through crowds, ignoring the passing cars, the flashing lights, the constant hum of the city.

By the time I stopped, I was out of breath, chest heaving, my entire body humming with exhaustion and rage. It was all too much—the judgment, the pity, the betrayal. My life was splashed across screens, dissected and devoured, all while Liam sat in his high-rise apartment, untouched, unbothered, like this entire mess had nothing to do with him.

That’s when I decided I was done. Completely, irrevocably done. I didn’t need the city, didn’t need the fame, and definitely didn’t need the endless parade of people who thought they knew me. If I wanted any chance at peace, I had to leave.

The decision came fast, so fast it almost scared me. But for the first time in weeks, I felt... calm. Like maybe there was a way out of this nightmare after all.

Back at my apartment, I threw a few things into a bag. Clothes, notebooks, my laptop—just enough to survive, nothing more. I was leaving behind more than just a city; I was shedding the version of myself that had let all of this happen, the Evelyn Grey who’d been too trusting, too willing to believe in a dream that never actually existed

I’m working in times two speed now as I quickly grab my phone and check available flights. Somewhere, anywhere, any city. Far away, where no one would think… or find me.

Anywhere please just anywhere. I frantically type. Tears blurring the screen. Zurich, Switzerland. Fine. I click purchase.

Just as I was about to head out the door, my phone buzzed. It was Clara, my last friend from the “before” days, back when I was just a writer and not some tabloid sensation. Her name lit up the screen, a tiny reminder of the life I was about to leave behind.

I stared at the call, my thumb hovering over the decline button. Part of me wanted to answer, to hear her voice, to let her tell me that everything would be okay. But another part of me, the part that was still raw and bleeding, knew that there was nothing she could say to fix this.

I watched the call ring out, letting the silence settle over me like a blanket. Clara would understand. Eventually, she’d understand.

With one last look around the apartment, I closed the door behind me and made my way to the bus station. It was late, the streets quiet, only a few scattered people moving through the shadows.

—-

The bus was waiting, empty except for a driver who barely glanced at me as I climbed on board. I found a seat in the back, pressing my forehead against the cool window. Outside, the city stretched out before me, all flashing lights and looming skyscrapers. My chest felt tight, a strange mix of relief and regret settling in as the bus pulled away, leaving everything I knew behind.

I’d landed just a few hours ago. I didn’t have much of a plan coming here but I picked a small quiet town near Zurich. Adliswil.

For a moment, I let myself imagine what life would be like in a new place, where no one knew my name, where I could be anyone or no one at all. It was a strange kind of freedom, bittersweet but comforting.

The bus rumbled along, the city lights fading into the distance.