These Deadly Games(79)

I let out a soft sob. Was this the last text she ever sent?

If I let my thoughts linger there, I’d fall apart. But I felt my anguish swelling like a tidal wave cresting near the coast. Akira. Matty. At some point, that wave of grief was going to crash over me. But I couldn’t let myself drown. Not when Caelyn was still in danger. I had to shut down that part of my mind—at least, for now.

Taking a deep breath, I focused on the text chain again.

Dylan: That’s a relief! I’ll swing by in a bit. Gotta head to the train station first.

Randall: Thanks dude.

Randall: You all okay?

Dylan: Yup. Sorry, train’s delayed. Be there soon.

Randall: No it’s cool.

Randall: Where’s everyone else?



That was when Randall FaceTimed Akira, and I picked up.

Randall: Heading to Food Xpress with Lucia to pick up food and flowers for Matty’s moms. Anyone wanna join? Where ARE you guys?



Dylan was probably still waiting for his dad at the train station or driving him home—I’d forgotten he had to do that this morning. Zoey was obviously preoccupied at the moment. And Akira—

I swallowed hard. Yeah.

Then a few minutes ago:

Randall: CRYSTAL WHY DID YOU STALK FISHMAN???



Three dots appeared next to Randall’s name—he was typing right now.

HOW DID YOU NOT MENTION THIS BEFORE?



Then he sent a row of scream emojis.

My fingers shook as I navigated to Jeremy’s Twitch channel—that asshat must’ve blabbed on his stream that I’d spied on him. This was bad. Really bad. He was livestreaming now, playing MortalDusk. The chat pane whizzed by in a flurry of chatter. As I skimmed, my heart jolted—people were buzzing about some stalker. I scrolled up until I spotted a Reddit link, and a panicked nausea surged up my throat.

Atop the thread titled FIND FISHMAN’S STALKER was a ten-second video. I clicked Play. “Shit, you guys, someone’s spying on me,” Jeremy said, and the screen blurred as he swiveled his camera to face the window. It took a few moments for the lens to focus and adjust to the brightness, even though it was overcast outside. But for a split second after Jeremy yelled, “Hey!” you could see me dart from view.

Apparently, that split second was enough.

Jeremy never said who it was, but the Reddit thread blew up as people posted screenshots of the still frames and enhanced the images, trying to figure it out for themselves. Fuuuuuuuck. Had Randall recognized me in the shot, or had they found me out?

If they had, the whole world would think I was a complete maniac.

I glanced at Zoey’s kitchen knife, thinking of how I’d tied her up. Maybe I was a complete maniac. I rubbed my forehead, trying to relieve the pressure in my temples, to scrub out the creeping doubt. I had zero evidence An0nym0us1 existed. Was I so desperate to win that prize money that I wanted to take my friends out of the running? Had I snapped after Zoey dredged up our past with Brady? Was she right about me?

No, no, no. This was exactly what An0nym0us1 wanted. They wanted me to doubt myself. They were real. Those videos of Caelyn were real. Those messages were real. If the cops swept Hanover Lake, they’d find a nylon bag filled with gravel and the burner phone and voice changer someone had left in that locker for me—that I definitely hadn’t purchased myself.

Prove it.

No, no, no. I knew myself better than that. And I didn’t have blackouts. There weren’t blank spots in my memory. Though, if I did, how would I know it?

I kept scrolling through the Reddit thread, hoping nobody would connect the dots. There were hundreds of messages over the past two hours. I scrolled to the bottom of the page, but that showed the lowest ranked, irrelevant comments. Impatient, I searched the thread for my name.

Oh.

Oh, God.

There was a message from An0nym0us1.

Hey that looks like Crystal Donovan. She’s ShardsOfGlass. They’d pasted in a side-by-side comparison of one of my recent Instagram posts alongside one of the enhanced screenshots, linking to my now-public Instagram.

A mix of horror and vindication swelled in my chest, and I jabbed the screen. “You are real, you piece of shit!” They were real. They were real.

And they’d doxxed me. This sadist was out to ruin literally every aspect of my life. Below An0nym0us1’s post, people unanimously agreed I was Jeremy’s stalker. And they were pissed Jeremy wouldn’t confirm it on his stream.

So it wasn’t Jeremy’s fault I’d been doxxed. He wasn’t completely terrible.

But An0nym0us1 was.

They were vile, malicious, evil in every way.

I hovered over An0nym0us1’s username on Reddit; they were offline. But now I technically had a way to contact them directly.

This seemed like a reckless move on their part. Couldn’t the police get a warrant for the IP address from Reddit? Then they could trace wherever this message originated. Unless, of course, An0nym0us1 was using a VPN to spoof their IP address. Still, if I were them, I’d have used a different username to dox me. This was proof that they existed.

Unless … oh no. My lips went numb. Everything they did served a purpose, always one step ahead. Whether or not they wanted me to doubt my own sanity, they definitely wanted to frame me. Were they just doxxing me? Or were they making it look like I was planting evidence a blackmailer existed? My web browser now had this exact page in its search history—good luck proving I hadn’t posted this message using a VPN.