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What was this?
Guys in black hoodies and masks beat my brother as he hung by his hands in a dark room. The light from the camera phone shone on him, blood streaming down his face and his dark hair matted and sweaty.
My head spun. No, no, no…
I glanced at the door, worried Thea would be back, and grabbed my earbuds, plugging them into my phone and clicking the post, turning up the volume.
“Ah!” Martin growled, his face etched with pain.
One of the men in black approached him, and I perked my ears to try to hear, but all I heard was mumbling between them.
After a minute, I heard Martin’s dark laugh, and I winced, remembering that sound.
This was from when my brother was attacked this past summer. He’d tried to tell me, but I’d refused to answer the phone, only hearing about it from my grandmother. He’d been hospitalized for over a week, but I hadn’t given a shit. He’d been lucky I wasn’t praying for his death.
One of the men in black lost control, and I sucked in a breath as I watched him pummel Martin, bringing down his fist again and again, my brother’s silver badge glinting in the light.
Jesus.
I didn’t have to see his face to know who it was.
Another one came from behind the camera and started in, the first guy turning around, facing the camera, and…
My heart sank as I watched him lift his mask.
Will.
No.
He smirked and flipped off the camera, the bile rising up my throat as I scrolled the comments. So many. The video was everywhere.
It was everywhere. Everyone knew he’d done it.
“Oh, my God,” I mouthed.
Exiting out, I scrolled, seeing a video of Damon and Winter Ashby in a shower together, making out or something, and I clicked out of it and reported it to Instagram.
She was a minor. What the hell? Who’d posted this shit?
Had someone gotten a hold of their phone?
The first video was posted an hour ago from a ghost account, by the looks of it, and the only person I wasn’t seeing was Michael in any of them.
I pulled out my earbuds, dialing Martin and checking the time. After one a.m. here, so it would be after four a.m. in Thunder Bay.
He didn’t answer, so I called again, still getting no answer. I hesitated a moment and then tried Will.
Again, no answer.
God, he might not even be awake yet.
I sat there, my phone starting to buzz as the world back home started to wake with the news, and old classmates probably wanted to be the first to alert me about the video with Martin in it.
I inhaled and exhaled. It would be fine.
Right? They’d get out of this.
But even saying it, I knew it wasn’t true. Whoever loaded the videos wanted a trial by public opinion. Even if they escaped without a charge, this could get them kicked out of their schools.
