Page 13 of Shameful Addictions

Rather than continue poking around at random, she decided to just go straight to her channel. She typed in Living, Loving, Lifestyling, and pressed enter.

No results.

The results weren’t ones she didn’t want. There were none at all. The site didn’t recognize that particular combination of words.

“What is going on?” Charlotte demanded. She tried a search for Triple L, her channel’s nickname, which again brought her to a bunch of results that didn’t have anything to do with her. Her heart started beating faster. Something was wrong.

Charlotte went to the log-in page and typed in her username and password.

The video site didn’t recognize her existence. Words in red told her there was no such username.

So, she had made a typo.

Charlotte used one trembling finger to tap out her login details one letter and number at a time. She made sure every keystroke was exactly correct, and pressed enter again.

Nothing.

Her channel had been deleted.

That was the only explanation. According to the site, she didn’t exist. All of her was gone. Her channel, her videos. Years of work, eviscerated overnight.

Her heart thudded so fast she couldn’t catch a breath. She put her hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, fighting for some semblance of control. Video sites had a system in place. Channels weren’t just deleted. She had to get channel strikes, which she would have a chance to appeal. Maybe her channel and videos had merely been hidden. If she appealed…

Charlotte went to her email and logged in. Rather, tried to log in. The login rejected her, just as the video site had.

“No!” she cried. She tried again and again, the screen flashing and denying her every time. Charlotte slammed the enter button over and over and then bashed her fist on the keyboard.

She felt like she was dying inside, like her heart was on the verge of exploding, it was beating so fast. Surely, she couldn’t take this strain for much longer. She couldn’t outlast this.

Maybe my personal email.

Nothing.

But that couldn’t be right. Her personal email wasn’t connected to her work in any way. Her boss didn’t even have it!

She tried the social network, the photo-sharing app all to the same result, or lack of it.

Tears brimmed in her eyes. Quickly running out of options, she resorted to the search engine. There would still be some trace of her, surely.

Charlotte typed in her channel’s name.

The search engine gave her results for Live, Love, Laugh signs, and family blogs that had nothing to do with her.

Charlotte cried out again, her sob echoing in her office. Now entirely desperate, she entered her own full name and ran the search.

She’d made waves on the Internet for her content. She was on CM’s website. She’d done interviews about her jobs and beliefs. She’d gone to school, been part of clubs that made appearances in newspapers. She even knew for a fact that her birth was online, because her father and mother were notable figures in the city before their deaths in a plane crash ten years ago.

But there was nothing.

According to the search engine, she hadn’t ever even been born.

“Oh, my god,” she whispered, rocking back in her chair. Despair gripped her tight. “Oh, my god!”

Was this legal?

It couldn’t be.

She had to fight it.

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