All of Us Are Going to Hell

SIX

8:57p.m.

A lie told so often becomes the truth.
VLADIMIR LENIN

It's showtime.

I'm on the porch and it's way quieter out here. Good. That should do.

I hold my phone up to my face, grin as wide as I can and hit the LIVE button. My face comes into view and my voice kicks into gear. Let's give them what they want.

"Hi, followers and other life forms on the planet Earth!" I start with a crooked laugh. "I'm Iris, as you all know and this is Iris Eye, with me," I point a thumb at my chest, "Iris, the one and only searcher for the truth."

Hearts and fire emojis start to pop up at the corner of the screen. The numbers of people joining the live stream are doubling-24, 45, 58, 63, 78, 93, 123, 211-and comments begin to roll upward; love your hair! or r u at mccannon manor?! or yayyyy, I love your lives!

I smile. I can't let myself get sidetracked now.

"Onto the main story of the night! So, I'm live at McCannon Manor-for some of you who've been to this side of town-and literally everyone is here! The party's gone wild! But that's not the only thing that's gone ballistic tonight." And I grin because something in my head sings, Here comes the good part.

The music has gone down a few baritones, so everyone tuned in should be able to hear me clearly. And they need to.

"Our queen bee, Lil' Lil'," I say, using the nickname I started on Iris Eye, "had an ultimate showdown of fists and savagery with our wannabe bad bitch, Capri-Sun. Lilith almost killed her! Over what, you ask? Well, what do you expect when a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven goes awry? I mean, obviously, it's been something we've seen coming for weeks after Balenciaga signed Lil' Lil' as a model for their Summer/Spring line.

"But that does make you wonder: why had these two besties fallen out in the first place? Hm. That's still a story to hope for because from what I heard on the grapevine, Capri-Sun was literally suicidal at some point, self-harming!" Time for my signature move. I tuck loose hair behind my ear, roll my eyes and say, "Hm, hm, hm!"

A flurry of hearts spray across the screen.

More comments. More views.

"And that's not all!" I shout, like a gasp. "Capri-Sun seemed to have revealed that Mark's shorts aren't the only ones Lil' Lil's hands and buried in. Does that surprise any of you, really? We always knew she was always a horny bitch. Guess Mark wasn't doing much. Hm, hm, hm!"

And the comments pour in, each more cruel than the last: that Lilith girl is such a whore - can she fuck me next? - she doesn't deserve Mark - horny bitch - such a slut - and I watch and watch as the world attacks her, scattering her reputation, destroying her name.

They did this to me once.

All of them. These people. It's why I started Iris Eye in the first place, to show the world who these people really are, and what they're really hiding. Everyone deserves to know.

Revenge is a dish best served cold, isn't it?

I'm about to continue speaking when a comment catches my eye. It's for me. You're a horrible person, Iris. Why do you keep doing this?

I blink once. I blink twice. Just to make sure it's still there.

It is.

It's from someone named the_spectre. He/she comments again, twice now, also at me. Do you know you're ruining people's lives? Do you know you're hurting people with all these lies?

Like a reflex, while my followers defend me, I message the_spectre privately and say: They're not lies. All I say is true.

Is the truth yours to tell? the_spectre replies in a split second.

I text, Hey, I'm just telling people the truth. You can hate me for it, but I'm still gonna do it.

Three dots dance. What you're doing is inflicting pain, Iris. You're vengeful and hurt, I know, but doing this won't make you feel any better.

Who does this person think they are? I clench my jaw and like I'm spitting the words out, I angrily text: Well, the truth is bitter, isn't it? Might as well swallow the pill now. And who are you to tell me what to do, huh? This is MY account and what I say here is for my followers. So, if you'll excuse me, I have a live to continue. Don't text me again, motherfucker.

And as I press SEND, the_spectre sees it and replies.

When I see it, my heart falls into my stomach and I lose grip on my dinner.

I guess your followers won't mind if I tell them about Halloween two years ago, then.

Halloween. 2021.

My breath becomes sharp. I clap back. I play dumb. What are you talking about, you sick fuck?

Oh, don't pretend like you don't know, Iris, he texts back. You see, I really thought you were going to stop hurting people after I reasoned with you. I wasn't going to have to use the video. But now? Now, I will send the video to every one of your followers and they'll know the truth, the secret you've been trying to hide. Say your goodbyes, bitch.

My heart is hammering against my chest. How did he find the video? Alexa said she deleted it. From everywhere. She promised. She said she didn't show anyone. No.

It takes all of the strength I have left to text back, but I do. Please, don't do this to me. What do you want?

The three dots float for a wild second. You? I want nothing from you. I just want to see you get everything you deserve, Iris. And you will. I'll make sure of it. You're dead, Iris Donahue. You're gonna know how it feels to have your life ruined by just a single video. And then, he sends a purple devil emoji.

And stops texting.

Something happens to my phone, too. Lines in every colour of the rainbow flash across the screen as Instagram becomes a myriad of glitches, pictures and numbers. I gasp and watch the phone glitch and the lines criss cross and swirl until-

The phone goes dark.

I press the power button. It doesn't turn on. It's not turning on. It's simply just gone...dark. And quiet.

And with a sudden realisation, I think: all the noise and music and sound of people has stopped.

The house has gone quiet, too.

Wonder what's happened. The universe is bringing the liars together very quickly. Comment what you think happens next and seriously, don't forget to vote.

I know the suspense is killing you.