Chapter 33: Messed Up
His thumb slid across the screen, opening the DM. The first message stabbed right into his eyes:
[RandomUser69: Come out, Buttmaniac.]
Caleb’s brows furrowed instantly. Before he could even process it, more notifications flooded in, hammering his screen nonstop.
[xXDarkSoulXx: Freak, we know it’s you.]
[BitterTruth: Rotten psycho, still hiding behind that mask?]
[Fiona’sGuardian: Disgusting, can’t stand your face.]
[LustyLover77: Buttmaniac! Show yourself!]
The insults piled up fast, each one like laughter spitting at his existence. Caleb froze, his face hardening. The veins in his jaw stood out as his teeth clenched tight, rage boiling over.
"...What the fuck is this...?" he hissed, thumb scrolling as his eyes devoured every rotten word. But his account was practically empty. No posts, no activity. How the hell did they even know?
And then—
His brain got stabbed by a memory. Something stupid, but lethal. Graduation photo. Still out there. Still tagged with his name. That’s how those bastards tracked him down.
Caleb shot up so fast his rickety chair almost toppled. Empty bottles clattered off the table.
"FUCK!!!" he roared, his breath ragged, voice dripping venom.
His hands shook as he gripped the phone, the screen still lit with a storm of insults. Shame and fury mixed into one, his chest blazing like fire.
"They... know..." Caleb growled, eyes flashing with rage. "Those dumb fucks are poking way too close—dangerous if they track me down..."
Before his anger could cool, another notification buzzed. Not from DuDuGram this time—but DhatsUpp. The sender’s name made Caleb snort in disgust.
[Lucy: Shit’s getting worse. They’ve started looking for you. People are sharing CCTV footage from Torkside Park, last place you were seen.]
Caleb’s bloodshot eyes locked on the screen, jaw trembling. "Bastards..." he muttered, voice low and seething.
He slammed the table hard. A bottle shattered across the floor. Why the hell are they blowing my story up?! he thought bitterly, chest tight. Mike and his two idiot followers were dead in the middle of a crowd—that should’ve been the damn headline, that should’ve shaken everyone. But instead, the news kept pushing him. Like the world was blind to the corpses.
"FUCK!!" Caleb roared again, his head nearly splitting from the frustration.
He dragged in a deep breath, trying to cool the storm raging inside him. His body trembled, but he forced himself back into the chair. Both hands pressed against his temples, fighting to think straight through the chaos.
Stay calm... calm the fuck down. Don’t let it drag you under.
His thoughts began circling, landing on one name. Sarah. That girl. If only Sarah’s livestream had gone through—Caleb could’ve twisted it, forced her to talk, to confess something no one else would’ve imagined.
His eyes flicked toward the system’s screen, still glowing faintly, its eerie light catching on the sweat dripping down his face. Common Sense Hijack.
"Just need a little bait, bitch... livestream it," he whispered. A thin, cold smile crept back onto his lips. He leaned back, muttering, "Fuck..."
He could feel himself slipping further into madness—dangerously close to being caught by the cops, all because of that lie about Joe being threatened.
Caleb stared at the screen still buzzing with insults from faceless accounts. The vein in his temple throbbed hard, but in the middle of all that noise, one name cut through. Fiona.
He froze for a few seconds, thinking hard. What if I just try...? Time was running out anyway. The cops were clearly moving, and if he kept messing around on socials, his trail could be caught any minute.
His hand trembled slightly as he reopened Fiona’s DM. He stared at the empty text box for a long moment, then a crooked smile stretched across his face.
"Alright... let’s see how far you’re willing to go, Fiona."
His fingers moved fast:
[Caleb: Fiona, you can help me right?]
The reply came quicker than he expected. Almost instant.
[Fiona: Sure. I’ll share the location now. But turn off your internet, put your phone in airplane mode. We meet there at 9 a.m.]
Caleb froze, eyes locked on the pin she’d just sent. A strange feeling rushed through his body. His breath hitched.
"You’re kidding..." he muttered, eyes widening.
The location was clear, unmistakable. Torkside Library.
The old building near Torkside Square. The first place he and Fiona had ever really gotten close. Where the little girl with braided pigtails once sat with him, sharing dusty books and cheap bread.
Caleb gripped his phone tight, blood pounding hot in his veins. It felt like being dragged back into a past he thought he’d buried.
"...Why there...?" he whispered, chest heavy.
But Fiona’s instructions were simple. Cut the connection. His eyes flicked to the signal bar on the screen. With a long exhale, he swiped down and tapped the airplane icon. All the notifications vanished in an instant, leaving behind a suffocating silence.
Caleb closed his eyes briefly, dragging in a deep breath.
"Alright, Fiona... let’s see if you’re still that little angel you used to be... or just another demon born from that whore’s cunt."
After switching off the connection, the room sank into complete silence. The kind of quiet that usually soothed him now pressed hard against his ears. Caleb just sat there, blankly staring at the black screen of his phone.
Finally, he let out a long breath. "That’s enough... enough for tonight."
With heavy limbs, he dropped himself onto the beat-up sofa, its stuffing already poking out. His head tilted back toward the ceiling, stained with damp black patches. He forced his eyes shut. If he could just sleep for a bit, maybe the rage would ease.
But the night hadn’t fully sunk in yet. Through the cracked, dusty window, the streetlights still cast a faint glow. Sleep never came easy—especially after a night soaked in blood and screams.
Caleb rolled over, trying another position. His back pressed against something hard. He frowned, reaching under him. His hand brushed something cold.
"...The hell is this?" he muttered.
When he pulled it out, his eyes went wide. A phone—its screen badly cracked, smeared with stains. It wasn’t his.
Caleb stared at the object for a long time, his heartbeat quickening.
"...Mike’s phone?" he whispered.