Have you ever asked a question about me, I think, in the whole time we have been friends? And yet I drop everything and sit through emergency summits like this one and the one last night in the pub, to try and fix your whole broken life.
I mean, technically I was the one who broke it. But still.
Finally, Scarlett has ‘told’ us about the video.
I had wondered how long she could hold out, and she impressed me to be honest.
After all, we are such good friends. The closest. She had to confide in us in the end. Who else is there to talk to now? Those old friends are long gone. Ed is in the spare room.
Even now though, as we sit in the coffee shop and try to help, she sneers at our opinions. At our verdicts. At our theories.
Like you’ve done any better, Scarlett, I think. Like your judgement isn’t the worst in the fucking world.
Surely you’d have shut down the blog at the very start anyway? As soon as this happened. But not when you’re Scarlett. Scarlett couldn’t relinquish the likes. Couldn’t relinquish that semi-celebrity identity she felt like she had when she posted. When a free pair of baby leggings came her way.
I’ve thought so many times about how I could use Cheshire Mama against Scarlett. It felt like an opportunity.
But I couldn’t post the video on there without her approving it.
If I added it to my comments on Cheshire Mama’s Instagram, she would delete it straight away. Could my accounts be traced for posting graphic content?
Now though, everything to do with that awful blog has gone.
Someone from Cheshire.
Scarlett shocks me when she tells that.
I had no idea she could know that; that anyone could get that information. What can I say? I’m a novice. Learning on the job. What I lack in experience though, I make up for in utter fucking hatred.
I feel my face contract. Snap back into Good Friend mode quickly.
Horrific, Scarlett. So close. Who could it be? Why would they do that?
There is satisfaction in seeing her now, exposed, weakened. I sit back to assess her, now she isn’t hiding.
When I do see glimpses of change, I bathe in them.
Scarlett is a little fatter, a little more bedraggled, a little less confident.
She no longer has the celebrity status that Cheshire Mama gave her.
That spurs me on. Because it means that she is less likely to hurt me again. That he is less likely to want her. And that, of course, is the reason I’ve done this to her in the first place.