Digital Betrayal

The phone screen glowed against Lottie's palm as she slipped into the quiet of her room, the soft click of the door muffling the fading murmurs from downstairs. Her fingers were trembling faintly, the faintest tremor traveling from wrist to fingertip as Amy's name flashed again, vibrating insistently, a little beacon of tension she could no longer ignore. The hush in her room was a thin veil, barely covering the storm roaring in her chest.

With a breath drawn sharp through her teeth, Lottie swiped to answer.

"Lottie?" Amy's voice crackled through the line, thin and jittery, like a frayed wire sparking under pressure. "Hey—um, I just… I wanted to say, I'm so sorry, okay? About everything. I didn't mean for it to get this bad—"

Lottie's spine stiffened, shoulders squaring as if to brace against an unseen blow. "Amy, slow down. What happened?"

But even as she spoke, her fingers were already moving, unlocking her phone, flipping through notifications with the ruthless efficiency of someone used to bad news. A cold, sharp burst of adrenaline hit as the flood of posts came into view—threads flooding the school forum, threads tagged with her name, the words "cheater," "fraud," "liar" flashing like neon-lit daggers across the screen. And there, nestled like a dagger to the ribs, Amy's handle—Amy, sweet, anxious Amy—appearing under several of the most vicious comments.

A cold ripple swept down Lottie's arms, tingling under her skin like an ice spill.

"Amy." Her voice sharpened, a delicate thread pulled taut, vibrating with a quiet tension that could snap at any moment. "Why are your comments all over these posts?"

"I—I didn't mean—" Amy's breath hitched, a wet, frantic sound that made Lottie's jaw tighten. "Evelyn said it was just a joke! Just… just to cool things off! I swear, I didn't know it would blow up like this—"

Lottie's hand clenched hard around the phone, nails biting into her palm until crescent moons marked her skin. The fluorescent glow of the screen painted her face in cold light, throwing sharp shadows across her cheekbones. On the screen, Evelyn's name floated smugly at the top of a new post: a vague, sugary note dripping with "concern" over the swirling accusations, as though butter wouldn't melt on her perfect tongue. Oh, she was good—so very good. Playing the golden sister to the public, painting herself in light while the shadows twisted and writhed around Lottie.

A muscle jumped in Lottie's cheek.

Biting back a tremor in her breath, she slid into the chair at her desk, flicking on the lamp. The amber glow lit the sharp line of her jaw, the tight set of her mouth. "Amy," she murmured, voice flat now, smooth as frost on glass, "listen carefully. Delete every comment. Every post. Right now."

"I—I—okay, okay!" Amy gasped, a panicked rustle of movement muffling through the speaker. "I'm so sorry, Lottie, I didn't—"

Lottie ended the call with a flick of her thumb.

A sharp inhale sliced through the hush. Focus. Strategy. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, keys clicking in rapid staccato as she pulled up the forum. Screenshot. Screenshot. Screenshot. Every malicious thread, every timestamp, every place Amy's name clung like a stain. Her heart thundered in her chest, a relentless, pounding drumbeat, but her face remained an unmoving mask, eyes glittering with lethal precision.

The vibration rattled across the desk—another message ping.

Leo: Need help?

Lottie exhaled softly, her breath misting faintly against the cool air, fingers brushing over the phone's edge. A flicker of warmth tugged in her chest, an almost painful reminder that she wasn't entirely alone in this battleground. But no. This was her war to win or lose.

She drafted her post swiftly, fingers dancing with surgical grace, pulling in earlier screenshots of her test scratchwork, her notes, the records that had silenced Ms. Scott's accusations before. Each image dropped into place with the satisfying weight of a chess piece slamming onto a board, a silent declaration of checkmate.

"Reposting for clarity," her caption read, no bite, no venom—just fact. Cool, clinical, untouchable.

As her finger hovered over 'post,' Lottie's mind flicked to Evelyn: the delighted curl of her lips, the glimmer of triumph in her eyes, the syrupy sweetness that had snared so many before. The image burned like acid at the back of her throat, fueling her resolve. She tapped.

Send.

For a breathless heartbeat, the world seemed to hold still. Then, like a match tossed into dry grass, the thread roared to life. Comments poured in—some skeptical, some defensive, some eager to feed on the chaos, but already, already, the tide was shifting. She could feel it, sharp and sweet as blood in her mouth.

The soft buzz of a new notification vibrated across her desk.

You're trending now.

Lottie let out a low, near-soundless laugh, the sound thin, edged with something wild. She leaned back slowly, the cool wood of the chair pressing into her spine, muscles tense but steady. Her fingers still trembled faintly where they rested against the armrests, but her gaze was razor-sharp, locked on the flickering waves of comments and posts.

Downstairs, faint laughter floated up from Evelyn's room—soft, musical, practiced. Lottie could picture her perfectly: cross-legged on her bed, phone in hand, basking in the glow of chaos she believed she controlled.

Not this time.

The sudden knock at her door nearly made her flinch. She bit the inside of her cheek, hard, forcing the tension to drain from her posture. Her mother's voice floated through, light and airy and carefully polished. "Lottie, darling, everything all right in there?"

She smoothed her face like a mask, lifting her voice into something pleasant. "All good, Mom," she called softly, eyes still flicking over the screen.

The footsteps receded. Lottie let the breath slip from her lips in a slow, measured stream, her gaze returning to the battlefield glowing before her. Amy's name was already fading from the worst posts—vanishing, being scrubbed, cleaned under Evelyn's soft-spoken direction, no doubt. But Lottie had the receipts. And the receipts were everything.

Her phone buzzed again.

Leo: Nice post. Want backup?

A wry, flicker-fast smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. For a moment—a heartbeat, no more—she let herself imagine it. An ally at her side. A voice that wasn't trying to drown her. But no. Not yet. Not while the pieces were still in motion, while the ground still shifted beneath their feet.

Her fingers hovered, then danced across the screen, crafting her reply. Not yet. But soon.

The night deepened, the light from her screen washing pale and cold across her face, casting the faintest halo across the wall behind her. In the hush of her room, Lottie felt the sharp, electric thrum of the moment—betrayal bleeding into strategy, hurt sharpening into something precise, lethal, unstoppable.

Below, Evelyn laughed again, the sound floating up the stairs like a siren's call, soft and golden and meant to draw the world into her orbit.

Lottie's pulse slowed, steady as a metronome. Her gaze drifted to the window, to the faint reflection staring back: a girl with pale skin, dark eyes, and a mouth set in a line of ice. She barely recognized herself in that flickering image.

Her fingers flexed slowly, brushing over the smooth edge of her desk, the wood cool beneath her skin. She could feel the tiny shiver in her arms, the aftershock of adrenaline sparking along her nerves. Her legs were stiff where they tucked beneath the chair, her bare feet cold against the polished floorboards. She exhaled, drawing in the crisp scent of night drifting through the barely cracked window—a hint of autumn, sharp and raw, threading through the room.

Her phone buzzed again, a quick, impatient flutter against the wood.

Amy: Please answer. Please.

For a long moment, Lottie simply stared at the message, the faint glow bleeding into her vision. Her chest tightened, a slow, curling knot that ached beneath her ribs.

The memory came unbidden—Amy's laughter on the school lawn, bright and breathless; the way she'd clung to Lottie's arm during study breaks, all easy affection and whispered jokes. It twisted something deep inside her, sharp and bitter and aching.

Her thumb hovered over the reply button.

No.

A slow, deliberate breath. She turned the phone over, screen-down on the desk. She could feel its weight through the wood, the faint, rhythmic buzz of incoming messages thudding against her skin.

The faint scent of roses drifted from the hallway—a telltale trace of Evelyn's perfume, as light and artificial as the laughter still ringing from downstairs.

Lottie straightened slowly, shoulders rolling back, the tension flowing from her limbs into something sharp and honed. Her gaze slid once more across the storm of comments and posts—some rising in her defense, others still jeering, some merely watching, hungry for spectacle.

She let her fingers brush the edge of the screen, a whisper-light touch, and felt the faint static crackle of connection.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," she murmured into the hush, the words curling soft and lethal through the air.

And as the laughter drifted up once more, Lottie smiled, small and cold and edged in steel, eyes bright with the promise of the war still waiting to unfold.