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Harper Lawson stood in front of her ring light, adjusting the angle until it bathed her in the warm glow she preferred. Behind her, the carefully curated background reflected her personality—bold, unapologetic, and vibrant. Shelves stacked with books on body positivity, fashion, and self-empowerment, mixed with splashes of color from eclectic artwork and scattered plants. Everything in her space was intentional, just like her message.
She glanced at her phone, checking the video she had just posted. Her heart raced a little as she skimmed the comments pouring in—most of them positive, encouraging, just as she expected from her loyal followers. But then there were the others. The cruel ones. They always slithered in, didn’t they?
“Chubby and delusional. No one cares about your opinion.”
“You should focus on losing weight instead of pretending to be a model.”
Harper swallowed hard, her smile slipping for just a second. She had grown accustomed to the trolls, but some days, their words still stung. It wasn’t that she believed them—she didn’t. But it was tiring. Fighting every day just to be seen, to be accepted in a world that constantly tried to shrink her. The online hate came with the territory. Usually, she could shake it off, but today’s video had felt personal.
She clicked away from the toxic comments and looked back at the one that had started it all. The video she had posted just this morning was a direct call-out to Calista Fashion, a brand that had recently launched a so-called inclusive line but still hadn’t expanded its sizes beyond a 16. Harper had posted her thoughts on the hypocrisy of it all. She spoke for millions of women who were tired of being ignored, dismissed, and treated as though they didn’t deserve to look and feel good in their own skin.
And now, the backlash was rolling in.
“Whatever,” she muttered to herself. “This isn’t new.”
She straightened her shoulders, flicked her curly hair back, and hit the record button on her camera.
“Hey, loves! Harper here. Thank you so much for the support on today’s video. I know it’s a sensitive topic, but we can’t let these brands get away with pretending to care about size inclusivity when their actions show otherwise. As always, I appreciate your comments—good and bad. Let’s keep the conversation going. Don’t forget, your worth is never defined by a clothing label. I love you all. Talk soon!”
She stopped recording and sighed. That should do it for today. Harper leaned back in her chair, glancing at her inbox where her manager, Maya, had already forwarded some interview requests. The media loved a good controversy, and Harper had no problem giving them her honest opinion. She smiled, imagining the response her interview would stir up. It wasn’t just about clothes for her—it was about changing a culture.
Her phone buzzed on the desk. A notification from Instagram. She picked it up, expecting more of the usual trolling. But the message wasn’t from a random account.
It was from someone she didn’t recognize—@TruthHurts01.
“You shouldn’t have done that. Watch your back, fat bitch.”
Her breath hitched. The cruelty of the comment wasn’t unusual, but something about the directness felt... different. More sinister. Harper’s stomach twisted. She put the phone down, trying to ignore the anxiety bubbling in her chest. It was just another troll. They loved hiding behind anonymity to spew hate.
But then it came again. Another notification.
“You won’t be so brave when we find you.”
Harper stared at the screen, her heart now thumping in her ears. This wasn’t the usual level of hate. This was personal. Targeted.
She swallowed hard and locked her phone, pushing it aside as though distance could dull the sharp edge of fear that had just pierced through her. She tried to laugh it off. She had gotten nasty messages before, so what was different now?
“Harper, stop freaking out,” she told herself aloud, getting up from her desk and pacing the room. “This is nothing.”
Still, her hands shook as she reached for her water bottle. She forced herself to drink, to breathe. When her phone buzzed again, she flinched but refused to check it.
A knock on the door broke her out of the spiral.
“Come in!” she called, her voice shakier than she intended.
Liz, her best friend and assistant, poked her head in, her bright red hair a stark contrast to the soft pastels of the room. “Hey, just checking in. You okay?”
Harper hesitated. Should she tell Liz about the messages? She hated being a burden. Liz already had enough on her plate, managing Harper’s day-to-day and her life outside of the influencer world. And besides, what was Liz supposed to do about it? This was just part of the job. The ugly side.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just... internet trolls being trolls,” Harper said with a weak smile, waving it off.
Liz wasn’t buying it. “Uh-huh. That’s your ‘I’m pretending it’s fine but it’s really not’ face. Spill.”
Harper sighed, knowing Liz wouldn’t let it go. “It’s just... I’ve been getting some weird messages. A little more threatening than usual.”
Liz’s expression shifted immediately from curiosity to concern. “Like how threatening?”
“I don’t know. Probably nothing. Just the usual ‘watch your back, I know where you live’ stuff. But it’s weird, right?”
Liz’s eyes widened, her voice sharp. “Harper, that’s not just weird. That’s serious. Have you told anyone?”
“Who would I tell? It’s not like I can call the cops over a few nasty DMs.”
“No, but you can get some actual protection. This is crossing a line.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. I don’t need a bodyguard or anything. It’s just internet trolls being dramatic.”
“Harper,” Liz said firmly, “you’re not invincible. These aren’t just random insults. If someone’s threatening you personally, you need to take it seriously.”
Harper looked at Liz’s worried face and sighed again. Maybe she had been brushing this off too quickly. She had a lot of followers, and there was no telling who was on the other end of those messages. What if it wasn’t just a troll? The thought chilled her.
“I don’t know, Liz. I don’t want to seem like I’m overreacting.”
“You’re not overreacting,” Liz insisted. “You’re protecting yourself. Let me make a call. I know someone who works for a security firm. Let’s at least get some advice.”
Harper hesitated but eventually nodded. “Okay. But just advice, alright? I’m not hiring some burly dude to follow me around all day.”
Liz smirked. “We’ll see.”
As Liz left the room to make the call, Harper sat back down, her eyes drifting to her phone again. She unlocked it, her pulse quickening as she saw another notification from the same account.
“We’re watching you.”
Her hand trembled as she put the phone down again, harder this time, and stared at it. Suddenly, the idea of a bodyguard didn’t seem so ridiculous after all.
