The Third Strike by Wendi Wilson

Author:Wendi Wilson [Wilson, Wendi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-06T18:30:00+00:00

17

“Oh, God.”

I moaned the words as I rolled over onto my side, attempting to curl up into the smallest, tightest ball I could manage. My head felt like there was a jackhammer going off inside it, the pain clouding out all coherent thought.

An incessant tinkling sound had me blinking my eyes open. I groaned and slapped my hand down on my nightstand, swiping my phone from its surface and holding it front of my face. I squinted as the brightness of the screen hurt my eyes. Blinking a few times, I focused on the time—it was only eight a.m.

The device continue to chime as notification bubble after notification bubble popped up on the screen. I tapped one, opening the social media app.

“Two hundred and seventy-six notifications?”

I sat up too quickly, and the pain in my headed exploded to something near-unbearable. I squeezed my eyes shut until the pain ebbed a little, and when I cracked my lids to look back at my phone, the notifications had added up to well over three hundred.

“What the hell?” I muttered, tapping on the screen until it showed me the post that was sending me all the notifications.

I was tagged in a video clip, and I leaned back against my pillows as I started it, turning up the volume.

“That bitch is crazy!”

“Are you okay, Charlotte? I can’t believe she did that.”

Charlotte stood in the center of the frame, her hair a tangled mess and bruises blooming across her face as she straightened that ridiculous Homecoming Queen sash over her shoulder. Mason stood next to her, running a soothing hand up and down her back.

“I hope you see the truth, now, Mason. She was born a trash-whore, and she’ll always be a trash-whore.”

“I know that, Char. She obviously has a drinking problem, too.”

Mason pulled her into his chest, smoothing a hand over her mussed hair. Charlotte nuzzled into his chest before her eyes locked onto the phone of whoever was filming. Her brown irises lit with an unholy fire as she stared right into the camera’s lens.

“I love you, Mason.”

There was only a slight pause, so miniscule that if I hadn’t been listening for it, I would’ve missed it.

“I love you, too.”

The video ended, then restarted. I tapped the pause icon so I could read some of the comments.

Jays0nT: That trailer park slut sure throws a mean punch.

K8tyKat: Stupid whore better keep her trash hands off my man or I’ll show her how to throw down.

RandyW69: @ChazM18 if you like it rough, come see me baby. I’ll fuck you like you’re back in that singlewide.

XOXOAmeliaXOXO: @RandyW69 she’s probably not worth what she charges #prostitute #whore

My stomach churned as I shut down the app and tossed my phone to mattress beside me. I’d gotten drunk, made a huge mistake—no matter how much that bitch Charlotte deserved it—and now I was hungover and feeling sick.

I was definitely not up to dealing with keyboard warriors and cyber-bullies. Scrubbing a hand across my face, I glanced over at my night stand and saw a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water.

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