Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
The photo wasn’t completely unflattering. My smile was small, closed mouth with my big glasses resting on the tip of my nose, covering half of my face. My mousy brown hair was tied up in a loose ponytail. The t-shirt I wore was two sizes too big and I had on zero makeup. It was me. And I had never been ashamed of who I was.
Until now.
Until the girl who tortured me in high school made it her pièce de résistance to ruin my life. Again.
Connor put his hand on my knee. Becky continued, “I know what you’re thinking. Like, no way, that isn’t her. But it is and I can prove it. As I mentioned before, I wasn’t able to get tickets to see Left Turn but thanks to social media, I have found a few things that back up my theory. I present, Exhibit A. Left Turn arrive in Texas, at the hotel they’ll be staying at.” On screen was a short but loud and hectic video. “Now, in case you missed it, let me slow it down.” The video slowed and… there I was. She even went so far as to put a big red circle around me. “Ta-da.”
“Exhibit B. I’ll be very surprised if you haven’t seen this video. It was early on in the tour and a security breach forced Left Turn to end their show early. But I’d be surprised if you noticed what I did. Let’s take a look.” The screen turned black a second before footage showed Left Turn on stage then the overzealous fan running towards Connor, pen in hand. Out of nowhere, from left of stage, I ran at the fan as fast as I could and when we collided, the crowd gasped and yelled. Security took hold of the fan. The stage lights turned off and chaos ensued. End of clip. Becky’s face appeared, smirking, “Did you see that? Let’s watch it again, shall we?” She paused the clip when I was mid-run then closed up on it and, again, a big red circle surrounded me. “Yep. Emily Aldrich.”
Becky shrugged. “There’s more. I mean, a lot more. I don’t want to waste a lot of time on this so let’s speed it up.” There was more. Photos upon photos of proof of what she was saying was true. Hundreds of images of me being close to Left Turn, walking with them, eating with them, even one of Hell carrying me over his shoulder as I laughed. Becky was not messing around here. She’d done the work. “Emily Aldrich was extremely close to Left Turn. But how? After some digging, it turns out she was their tour assistant. Up until two days before tour. That’s when she was fired. Can you guess why?”
A moment passed before Becky said, “Two days before the tour ended, Connor released ‘Virgin Tears.’ Coincidence? Not even a little. I mean, it’s obvious he wrote the song for her. He didn’t even hide it.” She quoted Connor. “Moan for me, Emmy, ain’t. Ain’t nobody here.” She scoffed. “Connor was fucking Emily Aldrich and she got fired because of it. Now, I don’t even know how on earth a person like Emily Aldrich landed Connor Clash but she almost broke up the band. Even Noah Gamble was fighting for her at one point! I can’t even, guys. What the hell, right? I can’t help but think that this little nobody could’ve singlehandedly ended the greatest band in forever. Like, Connor! What the fuck were you thinking, dude?”
With my free hand, I rubbed absently at my chest.
Ouch.
Becky appeared thoroughly annoyed before pasting on her wide, fake smile. “And that isn’t even the juiciest bit, guys. Oh, yeah. There’s more. According to the state of Nevada and thanks to the internet, I was able to find a marriage certificate. And you guys won’t believe it.” Our marriage certificate came up on screen with a few items blurred out. “Connor married Emily before he released ‘Virgin Tears.’ A week before, to be precise.” Becky’s chuckle told me she was loving this. “I mean, you’ve got to be a cold mothertrucker to break up with a girl this way. He released a song to the public about how much he didn’t care about her. He called her a ho. A Jane Doe. He literally said the words ‘You ain’t my wife’ and implied that he’d rather cut his cock off than be with ‘Emmy’. That is harsh, Connor, considering you let the world know you took her virginity. So very cold. I can’t imagine how that would’ve felt.”
So that was everything. It was all out there. I tortured myself even more by scrolling down a little to see how many views this video had.
Three point six million and climbing.
Cool.
“With all that I’ve said today, there are things I don’t know. How did Emily Aldrich go from this,”—my yearbook photo took up half of the screen, “to this?” A photograph of The Violet Dame wearing a tiny latex dress filled the other half of the screen.