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I can’t believe she doesn’t trust me.
That’s not true. Deep down, I’m not surprised at all. My parents only like the shiny, successful, socially acceptable Charlotte—never Charlie, too plebeian, of course—and I’m anything but that right now.
No one believes me. Not my employer or my coworkers. Not my friends, my sister, or my parents. They all believe what they see, which is dozens of photos of me naked, videos of me doing things I’ve never done, posted all over the internet.
After the first video, I thought there was a chance of fixing things. Getting it taken down, convincing my job it was a fake—but then another ten appeared in its place. And another twenty. And now… they’re everywhere.
It’s my face, but not my body. Not me.
It’s horrible. I feel sick all the time. And I have never felt more alone.
I can’t find another job because someone sent out more links of porn I didn’t do to all the law offices in the entire Capital District of New York. I’ve racked up over fifty rejections to job inquiries in the past week alone. It’s not just in my profession, either.
Twenty resumes sent out to employment agencies and job postings in the Saratoga Springs area, and not one request for an interview. I’ve been lucky to get a thanks-but-no-thanks email in response. Next up is retail and waiting tables, though I’m not holding my breath.
Everyone in Saratoga seems to know about me, judging from the looks I get when I’m out in public. And from the whispered comments and low voices as I stand in the produce aisle, ducking my head, hoping no one recognizes me. And worse yet—
There are the men outright propositioning me. Sidling up next to me and saying things that turn my face fuchsia, laughing when I leave my cart and rush out of the store. The men pressing up behind me, claiming they tripped, or were reaching for something. And the men who touch me—a light graze down my back, my arm, or once, my breast.
So, I don’t really like leaving the apartment anymore. But I have to; I can’t afford the expense of delivery while I’m unemployed. And I have to find a job. Or I’m not only going to be jobless, but out of an apartment, as well.
There’s one hope. My roommate from freshman year, wonderful Erin who told me it was okay to cry, who I’ve stayed in touch with ever since college. She believes me.
She reached out to me last week, her text the one bright spot in the disaster that has become my life. After I’d posted on all my accounts denying that the person in those videos was me, and the responses were so vicious I had to lock everything down, Erin sent me one text.
Are you OK? I know that can’t be you. Call me. I think I know someone who can help.
As if I had another choice? She told me about this company—made up of a group of former Special Forces soldiers—that helps people who are stuck in hard spots, people who don’t have enough money or connections or police support. She said that if they agree to help me, they won’t stop until the problem is solved.
I don’t know if I fit their criteria. Maybe?
The police basically shrugged at me and said without any evidence, they couldn’t do anything. And I know a couple of them must have seen some of those videos on their own time, because the looks they were giving me definitely weren’t professional.
Connections? I don’t even know who I’d ask. I tried contacting some of the websites, but as soon as one video came down, two more appeared in its place. And money? Well, my parents won’t help, and now that I don’t have a job…
I have a little savings, but after rent and my student loans and my car payment—it’s not going to last long.
So I really, really hope these Blade and Arrow guys can help. Even though the idea of talking to complete strangers about all this is humiliating.
They’re supposed to be arriving soon for an introduction, of sorts. When Zane called me a few days ago, he said that two members of the team would be coming to meet me, to get the full story, and discuss the plan going forward.
Not quite believing it could be that simple, I asked him, “Does that mean you’re going to help me?”
I could almost hear him smiling as he answered, and my heart lifted for the first time in over a week. “Yes, Charlotte. We’re going to help you. And we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
But I’m still scared. What if they watch the videos and decide they don’t believe me, either? They look so real. I know it’s not me, and it’s still disconcerting. Or what if their tech expert—Leo, Zane told me—can’t find out who's behind this? What if it just keeps going and going until—
I’m going to have to become a hermit, living in a ramshackle cabin in the middle of the woods. Somehow living off the land and spending years without seeing anyone. Which is going to be a challenge, considering I’ve never even been camping.
A quick glance at my phone tells me the two Blade and Arrow guys—Leo and Rylan—are going to be here soon. Scurrying around my small living room, I snatch up all the tissue boxes and stash them in a cabinet in the kitchen. No need for them to know I’m an emotional mess. Though the dark shadows under my bloodshot eyes will probably be a dead giveaway.
After a quick survey of my apartment—a few smoothed blankets, a straightened pile of books on the end table, shoes shoved into the closet by the front door—everything looks pretty presentable. My place is tiny so there isn’t room to let clutter accumulate, just a small combination living/dining space with a galley kitchen attached, one bathroom, a bedroom, and a small room without a closet that I use as an office.
I’m checking myself in the mirror in the bathroom—still pale, tiny lines of stress etched between my eyebrows, looks like I haven’t slept in a week—when my phone buzzes, sending my pulse into the stratosphere.
My calls and texts this week have been so overwhelmingly bad, I think I’m becoming conditioned to fear my phone. But this time instead of rude and/or incredulous texts or my former company’s human resource manager calling to inform me that no, I won’t be receiving a severance package, it’s the one person I do want to hear from.
Erin’s name appears on my screen, and a tiny sigh of relief slips out.
