Electrocuted at the Gate
With a few taps, she could lock your water card, send a cooling command to your air conditioner, even.
I stared at the dense operation logs on the screen, my whole body turning cold.
So there had never been anything paranormal or objects coming to life.
Only then did I understand that for the past six months, everything I had endured—the cold stares, the mockery, the torment—had been nothing more than Jenna and her little clique playing a real-life version of The Sims from behind a screen.
They treated me like a doll, casually changing the parameters of my life for fun, even using it as a way to hunt.