Page 52 of Make Them Cry
I thought the voice changer would protect me.
It didn’t.
Because deep down, she knows me.
She always has.
I grab my hoodie and gloves.
I can’t stay here. Not with her messages staring me in the face and my body still aching from her kiss. I need air. Space. Anything.
But when I hit the alley behind my building, I see her everywhere.
In every shadow.
In every soft gust of wind.
In the echo of her whisper in my ear:Mask…
God.
I’m unraveling.
And I don’t know how much longer I can keep my identities apart.
Because one side of me is in love with her.
And the other?
He already gave her everything.
I show up at Riverside, and rush into the back room. A concrete wall divides us, and I pace back and forth, fighting with the need to see her again. Tokissher again. To just be near her. I plunge my hands into my hair, forcing air into my lungs. I should go home. I know I should, but the demented side of me tells me to stay a bit longer. To watch her on the screen.
So, I do.
SEVENTEEN
RIVER
I don’t even make it past my first sip of coffee before the walls start crumbling.
A ripple of whispers spreads across the open floor like the cold bite of a digital breeze. Nervous laughter. Awkward coughs. A flash of movement as someone slams their laptop closed a little too fast.
Then Tasha sprints down the hallway, eyes wide.
“River. You need to come with me.”
My stomach drops and I grab my pack of Misfit gum and pop a stick into my mouth like a security blanket.
I follow her through the bullpen, past a few coworkers who won’t meet my gaze, into the security conference room—where two of the senior engineers are already inside, along with Dan from PR and the lead from compliance.
There, on the projection screen, isme.
Naked.
Or at least, it’ssupposedto be me.
The image is crudely photoshopped, just real enough to make your breath hitch. My face. My blue hair. My glasses. But the rest is manufactured—airbrushed skin, cartoonish curves, a suggestive pose I’ve never made in my life.
