Fiction
The Text
It was in the middle of the night when I finally made up my mind.
Thousands of worries still echoed in the chambers of my heart. Even deeper, though, a voice of reason, a voice fed up with it all silenced the rest. I jolted up, tore off my sheets, and in the dark cocoon, I picked up my phone. I was greeted with the blaring light of my screen, screaming at my decision. But it had to be done.
Rachel found joy in tearing me apart, spitting at any aspect of me that I had been mildly proud of, and speaking of unholy things behind my back. It started when we were in the same class in middle school. She and her goons were merely annoying at first, cackling at the back of the class and causing a ruckus. But Rachel would keep shooting these sly comments at anyone she set her eyes on.
“Oh my gawd, you do not need to eat that cake!”
“Jessica told me last night they…”
“What is she doing here? She should be cleaning our toilets.”
They never got in trouble, though. No, they were wealthy and privileged — if the school dared place a finger on them, they would explode into a tantrum, calling their parents. And you know what? It worked. As soon as the parents stormed into campus to defend their little princess, the school practically gave in. And the cycle continued. Enough is enough.
My feet shivered on the freezing floor as I tried to find the light switch. Once I detected it, I covered my eyes at first and turned around, adjusting to my new world. There was no turning back. I clicked on the messaging app to first send a text to my only good friend, Amelia, and let her know that this ship was about to go down. It had to be done.
I started typing on my note app, meticulously writing out a humongous paragraph of all the evils she has committed and how I won’t associate with her anymore. No more homework help from me, that’s for sure. Was I being harsh with her? Maybe. But I knew this would end up in her millions of group chats dedicated to dehumanizing people so I might care.
At the same time, all her minions would listen to whatever narrative she has yet to craft: how she’s good, everything and everybody else (including those minions, ironically) equaled bad so why should I care, right? Either way, the message has been copied and pasted, and to her, it was sent. It had to be done.
I sat on my bed in deafening silence, the quiet static sound of my fan made me more anxious than before. I realized then how I’d been biting my lips. It drew blood, a metallic taste sizzling on the tip of my tongue. My shoulders tensed up, my arms as weak as jelly, but it had to be done…
My phone pinged.
It was a message from Amelia: she assured me that I had made the right decision, but we had a problem.
My eyes widened at all the screenshots with text after text after text in a group chat of Rachel’s devouring me. That snake! I had expected it, yet I can’t feel any less demoralized. How on Earth are people so wicked to spew hate like this? Am I so disgusting? I couldn’t reply a word to Amelia.
I only stared at the nasty comments on everything that had nothing to do with my message. My pale skin, my weight, and my non-designer bags were common themes. And the most disgraceful part of the spectacle was how Rachel acted like she was the victim, her texts covered with crying emoticons cooing for care. My face had crumpled up in anguish. Salty tears were dripping down my face and all I felt was numb.
I sat still, in the middle of the night, and I wondered — what had I done?
This is a fictional story. I originally wrote it for IGCSE English First Language studies, paper 2, question 2 with the prompt similar to ‘Write a narrative story that started with “It was in the middle of the night when I finally made up my mind.’ I’ve since re-edited it and may go over the word count.
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