The cookies always helped, especially as the news regurgitated the same story over and over again. Turning on the computer no longer became a joy for me. It was an absolute nightmare, consisting of pictures of Carter and me, and never ending articles of what a cheater he was and how I “seduced” him.

Yeah, Leah the Seducer. That was me, alright.

Honestly, what the fuck?

I steered clear from the internet, to say the least. For the first time, it wasn’t even difficult to do. When Carter told me they lied, I guess I never realized the extent of how far they would go. It was like waking up one day and having someone tell you the colour of blue was actually purple. A complete blatant lie, yet it must be true because it was in the media.

I hated it.

Then, Melanie had to come home one day, clutching a magazine in her hands. She approached me in the bedroom slowly, holding the magazine so tightly, her hands had gone white. She looked frightened, like she was nearing a Kodiak bear and I was on the verge of clawing her face off.

I’d been sitting at my desk, playing a stupid video game because life had become boring and I had nothing else to do. I spun my computer chair away from the desk and faced her. I stared at her and raised a brow. “What is it?” I asked her.

“I’m trying to figure out a way to tell you,” she answered cautiously.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something big.”

A lightning bolt of alarm passed through my chest. Was it about Carter? Was she clutching a magazine of him taking back Molly, or something stupid like that? I was sure he wouldn’t. He was certain of his want for me, and he wouldn’t do that. No. But I hadn’t spoken to him since he left, and it killed me slowly that we left things off on such a bad note. I wanted to smooth things over, but then I knew I needed the distance too.

It was a one-of-a-kind fucked-up situation.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can deal with it,” I assured Melanie. “I’ve seen it all, anyway. Every single picture, every single story, every horrible insult thrown my way. Hell, you have no idea how thick my skin is after going through the comment sections of these articles.”

The bloggers were incredibly creative in their insults. I had even admired some of their name-calling, writing a few insults down for future use in case I had a row with someone who was genuinely a bitch.

When she hesitated, I stressed again, “I’ve seen it all, Melanie.”

“Nooo,” she said long and slowly, shaking her head. “You haven’t seen this.”

My eyes flickered down to the magazine before looking back up at her in confusion and, admittedly, fear. “Just out with it, Mel. Seriously.”

Creeping to me like some ninety year old woman, she slowly, with shaking hands, rested the magazine down.

What I saw would go down in history as the worst, most atrocious day of my life.

*

CARTER MATHESON SEX TAPE!!

For the thousandth time, I stared down at the caption, printed in bold offensive letters, across the magazine cover. Beneath the title was an image of Carter in bed with… me. Parts of our bodies were blurred out with these ridiculous fucking stars. But it was painfully obvious it was us, though the actual image wasn’t in the best condition.

“She’s torturing herself right now, Rome,” hissed Melanie, outside the bathroom door. “You have to do something about this video!”

Huh. I didn’t know they were talking again.

And was that… was that cellulite on my thighs?

No, no, they must have added that in. Fuckers.

“Well, if you can’t stop the video from circulating, then maybe you can find out who’s responsible for putting it out there! This is illegal!” She listened to his response before growling out, “What kind of person anonymously posts up a celebrity sex tape without wanting to get paid? That’s bullshit. You tell Carter to give her a call and sort this mess out.”

She knocked on the bathroom door after getting off the phone with him.

“Leah,” she said, sweetly, “please, open this door.”

I was in the tub, soaking among raspberry scented bubbles. The magazine itself was positioned on the toilet, facing me. I stared at it for minutes on end, hardly listening to Melanie’s pleas.

“Seriously, babe, I know it’s bad, but you can’t go through this alone.”

I sniffed and rubbed my eyes. Not crying. Just… you know, the soap got in my eyes, so… yeah.

“I have to open this door, you know,” she continued. “You’ve been quiet too long and I don’t want to find out you’ve killed yourself.”

I wouldn’t kill myself over something like this, but I wanted to dig a hole to the centre of the earth and hide out there for a few years.

A minute later, the door clicked open and she strode in, holding a knife she’d used to jiggle the lock. She set it down and stood there, hands on her hips, looking at me buried under layers of half a bottle’s worth of bubble bath.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, absently gathering a stack of bubbles together. “I mean, the whole of North America has probably seen my bare ass, but, you know, that’s life, right?”

“It’s a very nice bare ass,” she replied on a high voice, trying to make me feel better.

“Yeah, it is,” I acknowledged, trying to believe in her bullshit.

“I mean, you look like you did squats with that ass.”

“I didn’t.”

She took a seat on the toilet and snatched the magazine. She gave it another look over before tossing it out the bathroom door. I felt a little panicked. Staring at it seemed to viciously add to my need to torment myself, and without it, I didn’t have a logical excuse to keep at it.

“So you have a sex tape,” Melanie went on with a shrug. “Who cares? So do half the celebrities out there.”

“I’m not a celebrity, which makes this worse. I don’t hide out in my mansion with my crew of other rich famous friends. I’m in normal-people-ville, and I have a target on the back of my head. Everyone in this town will have heard of me by now. I’ve had to unplug the damn phone from ringing, and worst of all, I can’t even face Marlena and Harold about this crap because of how freaking awkward it’ll be.”

She stared at me sympathetically. “It’ll blow over, Leah.”