The Facebook Files Read online

  The Facebook Files

  A short story

  By

  AIMEE ASH

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This publication is in no way associated with, in partnership with, affiliated to, sponsored or endorsed by Facebook. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form (electronic or print) without permission from the author. Please do not participate in piracy or violating the author’s rights.

  Smashwords Edition License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Illustration: Aimee Ash

  Editor: Jenny Bowman

  Copyright © December 2013 Aimee Ash

  The Facebook Files

  To destroy, or not to destroy? That is the question.

  Since 2007 my life has been consumed by the frustratingly addictive nature of Facebook. Hours have been spent searching for old school friends, family who have slipped through the woodwork and long lost lovers – at least I would be looking for past boyfriends, if I’d actually had any.

  Over the past seven years I’ve collaborated just over 96,000 friends, under various different profiles. Now, you’re either thinking that I’m a pathological liar or a complete psychopath. Well, I can tell you that I’m neither of those things, and of course I don’t actually have 96,000 real friends. In fact, I don’t have any real friends at all, by choice of course.

  Over seven years I’ve created an additional seven profiles as well as my genuine own Facebook page. Generating friends off the back of bogus people who don’t really exist. Now you’re thinking I’m crazy, aren’t you? My mother thought I was crazy and seemed to get a rise out of telling me every second of every day. So I just stopped talking to her. Or should I say that I silenced her? Oh whatever way I say it, it’s still the same outcome, but for arguments sake, let’s just say that we are now permanently disconnected from one another. The day that my father forced me to leave our family home turned out to be the best and most liberating day of my entire life. Stupidly, my parents thought that they’d seen the back of me, but they were naively wrong. What sort of parents disown their own daughter and publically vent their hate for her anyway? My parents, that’s who. But my hatred for them far outweighs their animosity for me.

  Anyway back to my day job, and my night job too.

  Most of my friends are just hot guys who appreciate my rather daring, and explicit photographs that I regularly post on my Facebook page. Now you’re either thinking that I’m a complete whore, a despicable tease or a tragic attention seeker, aren’t you? Well, I can tell you that I’m none of those things either.

  Since I was an over-weight teenager I’ve lost an impressive six stone and have worked my socks off to tone up all that jelly flab. And now I look super-hot! Actually I lied about not being a pathological liar. Please will you accept my apology? You see, I’m not super-hot, but my latest alter ego most definitely is. With her long, perfectly styled, blonde hair, trim size ten figure and sizable double D assets I’m every guys dream. And sometimes every girls dream too. The whole thought of someone obsessing over me, fantasizing about me, daydreaming about being with me sends fluttering shivers of excitement through my entire body. It gives me a powerful, electric rush through my veins.

  My name is, Rebecca Russell and Scarlett Sullivan. Now you’re thinking, which one is my real name? If I told you that my nick name at school was, Boulder Becky would that give it away? Of course it would and I hate all those kids who tormented me for six miserable years of my life. Six years that I’ll never get back. For 2012, Scarlett Sullivan will be my salvation. My best friend. The only person who I can depend upon to make me feel happy.

  Enter – Scarlett Sullivan.

  Now, she’s the pathological liar – not me! Scarlett is the girl who has compiled over 15,000 Likes in just under a year. Impressed? Of course you are and if you’re not then that means you’re just insatiably jealous of her. But please don’t feel bad about that, lots of girls are jealous of Scarlett, with good reason to be.

  Rebecca Russell has 19 Friends and 100% of those are family members that I don’t even like. We’re not exactly close. However, after what happened with my parents I had numerous friendship requests from family members who were reaching out to me, but only because they felt obliged to, and regrettably I reluctantly accepted their friendship request. But nobody ever comments on anything I do. Not a single family member writes on my wall and I never get a notification for anything, let alone an actual message.

  However, since I’d accepted their friendship request, I feel compelled to frequently visit their Facebook profiles, gritting my teeth whilst looking at their status updates and photos. I’m so sick of hearing about their simple, happy lives and really wish they’d all just do me the courtesy of unfriending me. Especially my cousin, James who not so kindly pointed out that my face just about fits on my profile picture, but it’s really my frizzy bear hair that takes up most of the photo. Screw Jumped up James anyway, he’s just got a crush on me – well, on Scarlett anyway. We’ve been talking for weeks now and he’s practically gagging for one night with the sexy, flawless and torturously unobtainable, Scarlett. I’d seduced the idiot and so far my plan had worked out just perfectly.

  So basically, that’s what consumes my entire life. Every day I spend hours screwing over every person who had a role in the conviction of the demise of my self-esteem. Those people who crushed every inch of hope I had for my life, the guys and girls who shredded every piece of what used to be known as my confidence. All of them have done something unforgivable to me and naturally they have to pay for what they did. It’s only fair, isn’t it?

  Please don’t think that I’m an evil bitch. I bet you’ve had people who’ve brought you down, made you feel like a nobody, leaving you feeling completely worthless, which led to your life amounting to a vast expanse of nothingness. And if you haven’t then you’ve been one of the lucky ones, either that or perhaps you were one of those people who caused someone like me to want to crawl under a rock and die!

  Other favourites on my hit list, oops I mean, friends list are:

  Billy Baker – the boy who used to tease me on the bus every single morning and he didn’t even go to the same school as me. He’d sit behind me, making my shoulders stiffen and my mouth run dry with the mere thought of what he had planned to make my day miserable. His favourite torture was to put all sorts of creepy crawlies in a jar and release them onto my head. I’d feel them crawling around in my untameable hair and would flick my head around trying to get them off me like a seriously drugged up rock star, minus the guitar. Meanwhile the entire bus would erupt into hysterics and I’d be forced to get off the bus early and run the rest of the way to school, leaving me with unpleasant and embarrassing, damp pit patches all day long. Nobody wanted to sit next to the girl who smelt like a dead skunk.

  Now, Billy Baker wants t
o do all sorts of things to me, unimaginable bedroom things. Of course I’ve spent quality time building up an on-line relationship with him – exclusively. I still can’t believe he was dumb enough to actually think that he’d be the chosen one out of the 15,000 friends Scarlett has. I’d tell Billy that he was the only man in the world for me and as soon as I was back from modelling in Jamaica I’d be all over him like a tropical rash. Don’t get me wrong he wasn’t that bad looking, but only because his profile picture was at least ten years old.

  Next! Nathan Kelsey – the hottest boy at school and by far the meanest.

  I can still see him as clear as if it were only yesterday when our paths crossed. His spikey, black hair and that ridiculous belcher chain he wore underneath his trademark white T-Shirt, would stick in my mind forever. Nathan would saunter over to me at lunch time, where I’d be sitting on my own trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone, and he’d stand behind me, emptying the scraps of his lunch into my awaiting lap. With my heart pounding and tears pricking my eyes, he’d then crouch down beside me, looking at me like he was doing me a favour, and he’d say,

  ‘There you go, boulder. Don’t say that I don’t look out for your hungry hips.’

  That bastard was accountable for buckets of tears and he had to pay for making my life a living hell! However, much to my displeasure Nathan is unfortunately still extremely hot and by all accounts he thinks Scarlett is the sexiest woman on the planet. Even sexier than his stick thin, model girlfriend who has spawned two children for him. But apparently her assets were never quite the same after breastfeeding, that’s what he told me anyway.

  Nathan is a needy guy and regularly pours his heart out to a tentative Scarlett, who seemingly offers him the best advice. Now he wants to leave his girlfriend for me, leave his kids – what kind of a bastard leaves his kids for some woman he’s met online? Nevertheless, Nathan Kelsey wants us to run away together and who am I to stomp on someone’s dream? I like to give the men in my life exactly what they want, exactly what they deserve! He’s already bought two, one way tickets to Florence, where he’s planning the most romantic time of our lives. All I have to do it give him the thumbs up and he’ll meet me at the airport.

  Next! Mandy Clark – yes as in a woman!

  She was borderline my only friend at school. Mandy was always keen to invite me over to do homework and often baked delicious brownies for us to share, she was even thoughtful enough to make a batch for me to take home. Now that’s true friendship, isn’t it? But one day she tried to take our friendship to the next level and made a move on me – yes, she tried to kiss me and I threw a brownie at her face. She pulled her knees into her and cried a thousand rejected tears, looking horrifyingly humiliated. Although I was initially taken aback by the pass she’d made on me, I told her not to worry about it and that I wouldn’t tell anyone her secret.

  The next day at school was one of the worst days of my entire life, and there have been a lot of crappy days, trust me. Mandy had told everyone that I’d tried to kiss her! Yes, my only semi-friend had screwed me over. Bitch! From that day on I had to spend my lunch break sitting outside the headmasters office for my own protection. My excuse of a father even paid for a cab to take and pick me up from school, every day. My own mother even believed the rumours and decidedly separated herself from me – yes she actually left the house for an emergency holiday in Cyprus to get away from her lesbian daughter, who was in fact as straight as a ruler.

  My other nick name for the following three years was, Booby Boulder and the guy who created it was on my hit list too.

  Honestly the list could go on and on and on….

  Sometimes I’d rediscover that I did have a conscience buried deep within me and I’d momentarily feel bad for screwing with people’s lives. But the realization that they deserved my revenge would hit me hard and after a bar of chocolate I’d feel better and would be back on track. Ready to take the scum of the world down with an almighty bump.

  You’re probably still deciding whether I have mental issues, aren’t you? Honestly I probably do, but if I had to self-diagnose myself I’d just put my addiction down to revenge disease. Sorry, I can’t stop laughing to myself. Please don’t think that I’m a horrible person, really I’m doing the world a service. These people deserve to be taught a lesson, don’t they? After all they all destroyed my life, so why shouldn’t they reap what they’ve sown.

  Okay, your next question is – how do I find the time to build up a list of thousands of friends per year, let alone have a series of online relationships taking over my life? My love of coffee definitely contributes to my survival of sleep deprivation and the fact that I don’t have a regular job definitely helps. But please don’t think that I’m lazy, because that just isn’t true, although I do have a regular Tesco delivery every week so that I don’t have to leave my flat, yes that’s right – I haven’t been outside of my flat for seven years. Why? Because every time I so much as open my front door I feel like I can’t breathe, like I’m going to die. Anxiety. Panic attacks. That’s what all those people on my hit list have done to me. They’ve messed with my head and ruined my life! Now maybe you’ll realise why they have to pay.

  Both of my parents were killed in a plane crash, ironically coming back from Cyprus – how’s that for Karma? But the bodies were mysteriously never found. Oh, please don’t start feeling sorry for me. I don’t want your pity, nor do I need it. Daddy was wealthy and according to his will he declared that his fortune be split between me and my older brother, Robert. But my brother has been missing for the past two years. Nobody knows where he is. The last we’d heard he was heading for Australia. Maybe he got bitten by a snake and died out in the bush all alone? That’s feasible, isn’t it?

  Sadly I really don’t give a crap where my brother is. Not after he put me through hell from the age of eight and upwards. Do you know what it’s like living with someone so perfectly well rounded? Robert had sparkling straight white teeth, smooth black hair, rippling muscles and everyone wanting to know him because of his infectious, charismatic personality. Well I know what’s it’s like to live with someone so sickeningly, physically perfect. My own brother even refused to attend the same school as me so my parents packed me off to the school an hour away, so he wouldn’t be humiliated by his obese, socially inapt sister. The lying bastard even told everyone that I was adopted! How’s that for unconditional, sibling love?

  Today Scarlett has already received 23 messages in my inbox and has 791 notifications, and it’s only 9:00am. After shovelling down two bowls of chocolate coated cereal, followed by a mint chocolate bar I begin my working day.

  You’re already judging me aren’t you? Chocolate for breakfast – yes and it’s the same every day. You don’t have to worry about your figure when you don’t leave the house, besides Scarlett fulfils all my visual physical needs. Oh and in case you were wondering I’m still wearing the same pyjamas from three days ago, just because I can. I bet you’re pondering over what Scarlett is wearing today. Well, being the photo-shopping genius I am, today I’ve decided that I’m going to post a very sexy photo of Scarlett, just days before my big annual execution. Don’t worry, I’m not going to actually kill anyone, like I said before, I’m not crazy! By annual execution I mean that is the day when I expose all the lying bastards, and in some cases bitches, on my hit list. I call it Egnever Day. Yes, for all you geniuses out there, Egnever is Revenge spelt backwards. Okay, I’ll agree that is a little lame, but it just stuck and I like it and quite frankly, Rebecca Russell doesn’t give a crap about what anyone else thinks, at least not anymore.

  Today Scarlett is topless. Yes, that will do nicely. It’s the annual topless photograph which really sends all my many love interests over the edge. Leather hot pants will be a nice touch and I’ll have her long hair falling all over her face. Bright red lip-stick and smoky blue eyes will really tip them all over the edge.

  Ta Da, just like magic I press the button and upload the seriously s
exy photo. Then I sit back and watch, cupping my mug of black coffee sweetened with three sugars. There it goes – I’ve had fourteen comments in less than a minute. My adoring fans love me, idolise me! They all either want to be me or be with me and I couldn’t ask for more than that.

  After an hour I’ve had 1862 comments, 3459 likes and more are still rolling in fast. Everyone is hooked on Scarlett and I laugh to myself as I begin to sift through the messages, picking out my men whose lives I’m going to destroy in less than a few hours. Mandy Clark doesn’t ever write on my wall or post a comment. She only messages me directly as she’s still a closet lesbian, but that’s about to change.

  Barry Baker. Nathan Kelsey. Oh and my lady friend, Mandy Clark. All of them are going to wish they’d never made my life hell.

  Wow, this is the best message yet, so much so that I’ve just got to share it with you. It’s from Nathan Kelsey.

  Scarlett, you have no idea how much I want you, how much I want to…….

  Sorry, I’ve changed my mind. I can’t share everything with you, some things are meant to be kept just between a man and a woman. In this case, Nathan and his soon to be ex-girlfriend, if she has the sense to leave him of course. Either way I’ll have ruined any hope of a normal, lovely, loving relationship. They’ll probably turn into one of those couples who just stay together for the sake of the kids and she’ll turn a blind eye to him shagging his secretary, as long as the money keeps rolling in.

  There, I’ve gone and done it and it feels so incredibly good. Nathan is meeting me at the airport tonight and we’re going to fly off to Florence together, into the sunset and live happily ever after. But of course a fat, disgusting, recluse like me can’t really go and meet him, as much as I’d like to see his face when his girlfriend turns up with an entire record of every message we’ve shared in hand, but I just can’t do it – and it’s his fault.