Eventually, we climb out and Chas gives me some of his clothes to put on.
“Do you mind if I use your laptop?” I ask, pointing at his desk. He looks confused, but he nods anyway, sitting down on the edge of his bed to watch me.
I log into an account I haven’t touched since the news of my kidnapping went viral.
Followers? A metric fuck ton. It’s like, the meager pittance I had before has multiplied into a storm. The internet can be a cruel, dark place, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s a weapon that can be wielded for either good or evil, depending on the hand that grasps the hilt.
Carefully, I open the computer, lift Chasm’s headset on, and start the webcam.
“Hey everyone,” I say, trying not to panic at the sheer number of followers I’ve somehow acquired during my absence. I promised myself I wasn’t going to use the fame of being a missing kid to make a career for myself. But this is different. This is about life and death. About Parrish. About me. I make myself smile because the three million people that are now subscribed to my channel can never know that this is anything more than a game. Just a game, like any other. Only, it’s a game where the leaderboard is my life, where winning means getting back my stolen crush.
I’m coming for you, Parrish Vanguard. That much I promise.
I wait for the number of live viewers on my video to reach four digits before I toss my green and black hair over my shoulder, plant my chin in my hand, and pretend like I didn’t just see someone die in front of me a few hours ago.
I’ll play, Dad.
Start the game.
“Who wants to help me catch a serial killer?”
To Be Continued …
