The Forum Marie Reyes (book series for 10 year olds txt) 📖

like-minded people in an echo chamber circle-jerk about how 'woke' they are for not falling for the lies that society tells us. The eternal voice of unwavering pessimism.

One day, out of the blue, maybe, she could just decide to be happy and leave all the negativity behind, like it was just a simple choice. She could choose to be happy. She snorted at the comical thought. Any hint of positivity sounded like fanciful, brazen lies told by weak people to get them through the day, or a fairytale for children, but something a realistic adult should be able to see straight through.

She always expected the worst and was rarely wrong. The thought would cross her mind every now and then, that this may be a self-fulfilling prophecy, but the thought quickly disappeared when life threw its next hurdle at her. Alcohol and prescription painkillers were the only thing that quietened her mind, but it was just compensating one type of misery for another. It was just that the misery was furloughed, put on layaway, something to worry about later.

She uploaded the tattoo artist’s response to the forum. The others could tell her if she was on to something, or if she was just clutching at straws. Hopefully, someone else would be online. She needed a real human being to talk to. Someone who didn't know her, couldn't judge her.

Quicky_Mart: Good work Pipes. I can see this guy is based in Milwaukee, so I think there's a good chance it is him. It is worth sending to the cops, I think. They could probably get access to his sales records, maybe find out who the customer was.

Pipes1983: So, what do you do when you're not solving murders online?

Quicky_Mart: Like I said before, I like to run. I enjoy hiking, food, hockey. You?

Shit. It didn't cross her mind that she would have to answer the same question she had asked. Her mind went blank, and she started typing, embellishing the truth a little, then deleting what she wrote. The blinking cursor taunted her. She didn't want her lies out there in permanent black and white.

Pipes1983: Fancy using the chatroom instead, would probably be easier?

She waited for a response. After a minute, nothing had come back. That familiar sting of rejection. To be rejected, when this person didn't even know her, hadn't even had the pleasure of seeing her rotten black core yet. It hurt, yet she wasn't sure why. She didn't know this person.

There would be plenty of other lonely, desperate people looking for company online. When in a certain mood, there were chat rooms she would visit. Somewhere to go for an ego-boost. Rooms full of men after one thing, and she was more than happy to give it to them.

These days, people used video chats and all manner of new apps, but she was old-school, as were plenty of her companions, which suited her just fine. They couldn't see her, and she couldn't see them. They would say nice things, and she would pretend to believe them, even though there was no way these strangers would know if this vision they had of her in their heads was even true. She didn't care who they were, only their words.

Quicky_Mart: Sorry, had to let the dog out. You still want to chat?

As she started to respond, her phone vibrated against the table, snatching her attention away from the screen. Her ex-husband's name popped up on a little bubble on the phone screen and she clicked the message.

Trent: Hey Pipes. Listen. I thought I would message you before you heard from anyone else. Me and Lucille have broken up. I was thinking, maybe you should spend some time with the kids soon. It's been a while.

She often daydreamed about Trent and Lucille breaking up. Not because she wanted him back, but because she was miserable, and she couldn't stand the thought of them being happy, not after they carried on together while she and Trent were still married.

It was an anger that grew inside her like a foreign object being rejected from her body, and she couldn't keep it inside. It would come bursting out inappropriately in tantrums, breaking household objects, until the only way she could excise it, was through a night with a bottle of rum, vodka, Scotch, or whatever was available.

She'd always enjoyed a good drink with friends, but this wasn't some social lubricant in public, this was hidden, like a binge eater taking their stash of fast-food packages back into some dark corner. That desperate chemical need. The brain screaming out, not stopping until she succumbed. That feeling started surfacing as thoughts raced through her head.

Why was he telling her this? He rarely offered to let her have the kids outside of their agreed custody arrangement. Maybe he was struggling without Lucille around to help him and wanted to act as if he was doing Piper a favor.

She knew she should feel grateful for the opportunity to spend more time with her children, but the main thing she felt was terror. The responsibility all-consuming and anxiety producing. She wanted what was best for them, and she was not it.

 

Piper: Okay. Let me know if and when you want to bring them over.

Trent: Well, I was thinking, we could do something together. Something as a family.

She hadn't even realized she was clenching her jaw until her teeth ground together. Now. Now he wants to be a family! Lucille probably came to her senses and dumped him. Her hand was clasped in a tight grip, nails digging into her palm, reminding her to take a breath and release the tension from her body before she turned her attention back to her computer screen.

Quicky_Mart: Pipes?

Quicky_Mart: I assume you've gone. Chat soon?

Pipes1983: Sorry. Got distracted. You still there?

She waited five minutes, but there was no