and asked quietly, “This isn’t a totally stupid thing to do, right?”
“Right.” Angie’s voice was solid and steady, just like the woman herself. “Sweetie, it’s the only
smart
thing to do. That bitch is pretending to be you, and you have to stop it. But first you have to have proof she
isn’t
you. This is proof. So do it. And give that hottie up there in Earth’s End a break. Maybe he’ll decide to come cuddle with you in your igloo as a way of saying thank you.”
Shay snorted. “I’ve lived here for years and I’ve yet to see an igloo.”
“That’s a shame. I think an igloo would be really cool—literally and figuratively. Hey, I know … he could help you build one and then cuddle with you.”
“You’re rotten.” Shay suspected Angie was trying to distract her. Swallowing, she flexed her hands, then reached up and adjusted the headset she wore so she could talk to Angie and still type. She could do this—she
had
to do this.
The looming, bright white of the screen seemed to glare at her, mocking her.
“Oh, shit. Angie, I don’t know if I can do this.” Shay closed her eyes, blocking out the image of that terrifying white screen. A few years ago, she’d written a short story about an agoraphobic who’d had to leave her house to escape a killer. This was kind of like that for her. She wasn’t terrified of the outside world, but she was terrified of exposing herself. And even this little bit was too much.
But what else could she do?
Nothing?
She’d done that, and look what had happened.
“Are you there, kid?”
Kid
. It made her smile, despite the fear fluttering inside her. Angie was seven years older than she. In some ways, Shay felt years older … and at the same time decades younger than her big sister.
“Yeah.” She made herself open her eyes and face that white screen.
“You have to do this. You know what she’s doing is wrong—it’s so fucked up, it’s not even funny, and you can start to set things to right. If you don’t do it …” Angie didn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t have to.
Virna had drilled a certain set of values into her kids, including the one she’d adopted … Shay.
If you allowed an evil to continue and you did nothing to stop it, and there was something you
could
have done, you were just as bad as the evil-doers. How many children could have been saved from abusers if the people who knew about the abuse spoke up? How many victims of assault?
Ignoring evil perpetuated it.
And what this woman was trying to do to Elliot was evil … it could destroy him. Then there was the matter of the wrongful rape accusation—shit like that made it so much harder for real rape victims.
Shay had the power to step in and make things right.
She might be a terrified coward, but she couldn’t let that fear stop her. Elliot had talked about how she always had to be tough, yet she
wasn’t
. She was a damn wreck—she just knew how to fake it. So she’d fake it now. Fake it until she made it and she’d get through this.
Clearing her throat, she squared her shoulders. “Okay, Angie. I’m doing it.”
“Good girl.”
Silence hummed between them, but it wasn’t a heavy, awkward silence, wasn’t flooded with that awful needto fill it. Shay wrote. On the other end of the line, Angie waited.
Moments later, Shay said, “Okay, so I want to read this through before I post it. How do I do that?” The setup was different from her online diary and the words had to be just right.
“You can save a draft.”
Shay fiddled around until she saw the option.
Okay—
A
preview post
link came up.
Her hands were sweating as she clicked on it.
REGARDING RECENT ISSUES—FACEBOOK, TWITTER, BLOG, ETC.
“Shay?”
She whispered, “Yeah?”
“Are you okay? You’re starting to breathe kind of funny again.”
“I’m fine.” Damn it, this shouldn’t be so hard. It wasn’t as if she were taking out a public notice:
I’m in hiding in
“Right.” Angie’s voice was solid and steady, just like the woman herself. “Sweetie, it’s the only
smart
thing to do. That bitch is pretending to be you, and you have to stop it. But first you have to have proof she
isn’t
you. This is proof. So do it. And give that hottie up there in Earth’s End a break. Maybe he’ll decide to come cuddle with you in your igloo as a way of saying thank you.”
Shay snorted. “I’ve lived here for years and I’ve yet to see an igloo.”
“That’s a shame. I think an igloo would be really cool—literally and figuratively. Hey, I know … he could help you build one and then cuddle with you.”
“You’re rotten.” Shay suspected Angie was trying to distract her. Swallowing, she flexed her hands, then reached up and adjusted the headset she wore so she could talk to Angie and still type. She could do this—she
had
to do this.
The looming, bright white of the screen seemed to glare at her, mocking her.
“Oh, shit. Angie, I don’t know if I can do this.” Shay closed her eyes, blocking out the image of that terrifying white screen. A few years ago, she’d written a short story about an agoraphobic who’d had to leave her house to escape a killer. This was kind of like that for her. She wasn’t terrified of the outside world, but she was terrified of exposing herself. And even this little bit was too much.
But what else could she do?
Nothing?
She’d done that, and look what had happened.
“Are you there, kid?”
Kid
. It made her smile, despite the fear fluttering inside her. Angie was seven years older than she. In some ways, Shay felt years older … and at the same time decades younger than her big sister.
“Yeah.” She made herself open her eyes and face that white screen.
“You have to do this. You know what she’s doing is wrong—it’s so fucked up, it’s not even funny, and you can start to set things to right. If you don’t do it …” Angie didn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t have to.
Virna had drilled a certain set of values into her kids, including the one she’d adopted … Shay.
If you allowed an evil to continue and you did nothing to stop it, and there was something you
could
have done, you were just as bad as the evil-doers. How many children could have been saved from abusers if the people who knew about the abuse spoke up? How many victims of assault?
Ignoring evil perpetuated it.
And what this woman was trying to do to Elliot was evil … it could destroy him. Then there was the matter of the wrongful rape accusation—shit like that made it so much harder for real rape victims.
Shay had the power to step in and make things right.
She might be a terrified coward, but she couldn’t let that fear stop her. Elliot had talked about how she always had to be tough, yet she
wasn’t
. She was a damn wreck—she just knew how to fake it. So she’d fake it now. Fake it until she made it and she’d get through this.
Clearing her throat, she squared her shoulders. “Okay, Angie. I’m doing it.”
“Good girl.”
Silence hummed between them, but it wasn’t a heavy, awkward silence, wasn’t flooded with that awful needto fill it. Shay wrote. On the other end of the line, Angie waited.
Moments later, Shay said, “Okay, so I want to read this through before I post it. How do I do that?” The setup was different from her online diary and the words had to be just right.
“You can save a draft.”
Shay fiddled around until she saw the option.
Okay—
A
preview post
link came up.
Her hands were sweating as she clicked on it.
REGARDING RECENT ISSUES—FACEBOOK, TWITTER, BLOG, ETC.
“Shay?”
She whispered, “Yeah?”
“Are you okay? You’re starting to breathe kind of funny again.”
“I’m fine.” Damn it, this shouldn’t be so hard. It wasn’t as if she were taking out a public notice:
I’m in hiding in
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