Part Four

I blink at the notification on my screen.

@PhlebotomyFan has sent you a direct message

I could swear I blocked that account. How is this rando still DMing me?

I open the message tab, and there's the one she sent before with the link to the Wattpad story. She's added a new message underneath.

OMGGGG Kel-bell! Everybody's reading it!

I feel a little better. That sounds like fairly normal fangirl talk. And she knows that people used to call me Kel-bell back in high school. This has to be someone who's followed me for a while.

Maybe it's Naomi. Maybe she orchestrated some massive prank on Eric, where she convinced everyone in the fandom to deactivate their accounts for one night. Just to mess with him. I wouldn't put it past her.

A grin spreads across my face as I send back a reply.

Who is this? I don't recognize your handle.

She answers with her favorite line again.

Whatever you do, don't read it.

I snort. I'm feeling decidedly less nervous.

I know. I know. "I've been warned." Blah blah blah. Is this Naomi?

There's no answer.

"Bingo," I mutter out loud. "I knew it!" I start to laugh. She really did it. I have to give the girl credit. This has to be one of the more accomplished feats of fandom she's ever pulled off. She somehow got everyone organized enough to ghost on Eric, all at once. Boom! I can just imagine him sitting there, staring at his phone in total despair as the replies evaporated and the retweet count plummeted...

But how am I the only one who didn't get the memo?

The story!

I let out a huff of exasperation as the last piece of the puzzle clicks in place. Of course. Naomi must've posted it. No wonder it spread like wildfire. And now I'm the only one who hasn't seen it yet.

My eyes go back to the link she sent me earlier.

Did you read it?
http://www.wattpad.com/152986994

I tap the link. Wattpad opens, and the story springs up on my screen.

******************

Numquam Evanescimus

Dolor sit tempor sanctum amet sadipscing elitr, sed consetetur diam nonum erato eirmod  invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet. Duis autem vel eum iriure dolor.

@EricThorn Never babe. I'll haunt you till the day I die...

No mummy nibh euismod tincidunt ut laoreet dolore magna aliquam erat volutpat. Ut wisi enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exerci tation ullamcorper suscipit lobortis nisl ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis autem vel eum iriure dolor in hendrerit in vulputate velit esse molestie consequat, vel illum dolore eu feugiat nulla facilisis at vero eros et accumsan et iusto odio dignissim qui blandit praesent luptatum zzril delenit augue duis dolore te feugait nulla facilisi. Nam liber tempor cum soluta nobis eleifend option congue nihil imperdiet doming id quod mazim placerat facer possim assum. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit, sed diam nonummy nibh euismod tincidunt ut laoreet dolore magna aliquam erat volutpat. Ut wisi enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exerci tation ullamcorper suscipit lobortis nisl ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat dolor...

*********************

Except it isn't a story...

It isn't even words.

It looks like a wall of gibberish filling up my screen. I scroll, but it's more of the same. Line after line. Clumps of characters shaped like words, but not in any language I've ever seen before.

There's only one line break, and that might be the weirdest part of all. I recognize it. It's my own tweet – the reply I tweeted at Eric just now. Somehow it's embedded in the middle of all this other creepitude.

What is this? Another glitch?

I go to close the Wattpad app, but it won't let me. For a moment, my screen freezes. And then it starts completely freaking out.

I've never seen it do anything like this before. It's like one of those viruses I get on my PC when I accidentally click on sketchy porn sites... but this one is on my phone! That's not supposed to happen. The screen keeps replicating itself, over and over, tessellating like a mosaic – like it's opening up new tabs by the hundreds. By the thousands! I have absolutely no way to shut them down. I hold down the buttons to force quit, but nothing happens.

"Crap!"

The tabs are still coming fast and thick, and now my notifications have started going off. It starts with Wattpad notifications. Then Twitter. Then notifications from every app I have, and from others I don't even recognize. They're going off like popping popcorn, each one covering the last.

"No, no, no," I chant, watching helplessly. "Stop it. Stop!"

I rake my hands through my hair, but there's nothing I can do. I feel sick to my stomach. I'm such an idiot. I should've known not to click that link. I didn't think it was possible to catch a virus over Wattpad!

I pray my phone isn't permanently fried. It's decided to play music now. Great. Sounds like every single song in my iTunes library, playing all at once. The volume controls aren't working either, and it's blaring this horrible noise at full blast. I stuff the phone underneath a pillow to muffle it.

And that's when the doorbell starts to ring.

I know that sound. That annoying two-tone chime. There's no way that's coming from the phone. It has to be the front door. Of the house. Someone is out there ringing it, over and over and over.

Trick or treaters?

Now?

I can't get downstairs to answer it. I'll have to wait them out. But the ringing doesn't sound like it's going to stop. Not anytime soon.

I cover my ears with my hands. "Go away!" I yell, and my voice blends in with the rest of the deafening racket. "Leave me alone!"

But the ringing continues, more insistent than ever.

And then I hear a new sound that wasn't there before. I don't know if my mind is playing tricks on me or what, but I can hear it through all the other noise. It's those footsteps again, creaking their way up the stairs.

It must be Leah coming back. Thank God.

"Leah?" I shout. "Leah, answer the doorbell!"

Creak...

Creak...

Creak...

I hear the steps hit the first landing.

Then the second.

Then the third.

Creak...

Creak...

Creak...

It's almost at my door now. I watch the doorknob turn.

"Leah?" I call out again.

My heart is pummeling inside my ribcage. I grab my phone and scamper off the bed. I can't really stand without my crutches, but somehow I limp toward the doorway, dragging my cast across the floorboards. I barely even register the sharp pain shooting up my leg with every step.

The jangling music dies as the door swings open. I grip my phone in my hand, even though I know it can't do me any good. The screen has gone dead, and my room is bathed in darkness. I can't see anything except the outline of the black rectangle where the doorway starts and ends.

The only sound is my own breathing, rushing in my ears. I stand there for a moment, swaying, too freaked out to speak. My eyes are starting to adjust to the dim – or maybe the lights are coming back on, bit by bit? All I can see is the dark silhouette of a human form, standing there, just outside my bedroom door.

I reach for my light switch and flick it on. A sudden glare fills the room, blinding me for a moment longer.

Then my vision clears.

And I see that it isn't a human form after all.

My eyes lock with the glare I know so well. Those blue, lady-killer eyes are full of venom. How he got there, outside my room, I'll never understand. As if that weren't creepy enough, he has the pick axe propped up at his side, inches from his cardboard cut-out hand.

"Very funny, Leah," I say in a flat voice, looking for my sorority sister behind him. "Hilarious. Ha ha."

But the voice that answers doesn't sound like Leah. It sounds like Eric Thorn. I'd swear on my own grave, that voice belongs to him.

"I saw what you wrote," he says, soft and slow. Gravelly.

It isn't really him talking. I know that. Rationally, I know. But that doesn't stop the ice-cold tremor from running up my spine. It must be a recording. Some Eric Thorn interview footage that Leah found... Or some YouTube video from a concert... It has to be!

He speaks again, a little louder. He's two-dimensional, but I swear I see the muscles of his naked torso flex. "I read your fanfic, Kelsey. Looks like you read mine."

Kelsey.

He says the name with extra emphasis. My name, spoken in my idol's voice... I think I might pass out.

"Wh-what?"

"Eric Thorn Porn, right? I have to be honest, Kelsey. I'm not a fan."

He's moving. I know my eyes aren't playing tricks. His fingers just balled into fists.

"No, no," I stammer. "Eric, it's—they're just stories. Fanfic. You're just a character. It isn't—it doesn't mean—You weren't supposed to see—"

"I saw."

His mouth doesn't move. The expression on his face doesn't change. But I notice his eyes aren't blue anymore. The pupils have dilated. They've grown so large that his eyes have turned completely black.

"I'll stop," I say. "I won't write anymore. I promi—"

"No, Kelsey," he interrupts, and suddenly his eyes are blazing red. "You won't stop. You fangirls never stop. I gave you one last chance, but you have no impulse control. None whatsoever. You told me so yourself, right?"

His hand closes round the pick axe. He hoists it in the air.

"Isn't that what you said @EricThornPorn? You'll never ghost on me. You'll haunt me till the day you die."

It isn't Leah's ax. I can see that now. It isn't a pick axe at all, actually. I was wrong. It's that other thing. What's it called? That thing the grim reaper carries? Not a pick axe.

A scythe.

And I know, from the way the air whistles as it swings, that it isn't made of foam.

The whistling stops with a sickening thud, as the point makes contact with my skull. I can see the blood – my blood? – as it sprays across his perfect chiseled pecs. Then there's only darkness, pierced by blinding pain, and the sound of my cellphone screen cracking as it clatters to the floor.

"Follow spree complete," I hear him say, and I swear there's laughter in his voice. "Sorry Kel-bell. You should've listened."

Kel-bell.

My name. Eric Thorn knows my name...

And that's the final thought that ever flickers through my brain.

THE END

Dear Readers:
If you don't know who Eric Thorn is, he's the main character in my completed full-length book, Follow Me Back. It's  published, available online (Anazon etc) and in stores now 👇👇👇

Or you can check out the 80-chapter long Wattpad version on my profile! Just look for Follow Me Back!

If you enjoyed this story, please VOTE and COMMENT, and ADD it to your public reading list.

Thank you! <3
Viv

P.S. I'd also like to try a little experiment if you're up for it. Please share this story with friends by sending them just the link and the words: "Whatever you do, don't read this."

That's all. Don't say anything more. Let's see what happens... ;)