With my phone in hand, I sat on the couch and downloaded the Instagram app. I took a deep breath as I entered in my login credentials … it had been years since I had logged into my account. I watched the dots appear and fade in a circle as the app processed my request. While I waited, I looked at the TV screen across the room. I could see James standing outside on the deck with his phone up to his ear. I had assumed he was talking about me. Why else would he go outside to make the call?
I looked down at my cell phone and stared at what I had on the home screen from years ago. I began to scroll through the Los Angeles Lakers posts, BMW posts, some bands that I had followed at that point in my life. There were posts from friends that I had in high school. Some showed off their new cars and college life; one girl had already gotten married. I kept scrolling past people and things that used to mean something. It was information overload. I leaned forward with my forearms resting on my thighs, holding the phone. I smiled at posts, recalling people that I used to know, or thought that I knew.
For whatever reason, I was almost afraid to open my profile page, so I spent ample time scrolling through my Instagram feed. I had planned on opening my account page to look at things before James came back inside, but my window to do that had passed. I turned my head to the sound of the door opening from the deck as it let some of the ocean sounds inside.
“All done with my call, pup,” James said as he set his cell phone on the kitchen counter. “Kitchen looks great, Brandon. Thank you for taking care of that.”
James sat beside me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder and squeezed my bicep. He snaked his other hand between my arm and rubbed tenderly over the fabric of my thin t-shirt.
“Did you get some lotion on your nips?”
“I did, yes. It actually felt kind of nice,” I admitted.
Suddenly I was really nervous about opening the Instagram profile page. James was right beside me, though, with his arm around me, and I felt like it would be fine. I just wanted to show him the goofy sock photos that I had.
“Were you able to get into your old account?” James asked as he stroked my arm.
I nodded and stared down at a BMW post in my feed. I started to talk nervously but tried to get it under control. And the worst part about it was that I knew that Mr. Psychologist was assessing me.
“This front page that opens up are posts from people or brands that I used to follow,” I explained.
James glanced down at the screen as I slowly scrolled, so he could see what I used to follow.
“Some of the people were kids that I went to school with or people in the modeling industry.” I paused but kept scrolling. “These are some jeans companies or stores that I modeled for,” I explained as we passed a Levi’s post and then an Abercrombie and Fitch post.
“I bet you were a little hottie modeling jeans,” he mused.
“I was,” I laughed and playfully nudged his chest with my elbow while I continued to scroll.
“I see you have lots of BMW posts on there,” he commented.
“Yes. I had a thing for them.”
“Did, or still do?”
I didn’t know. I wasn’t the same person that I once was. I shrugged and shook my head, but I didn’t look up at James.
“I don’t think I’m this person anymore,” I admitted.
James tugged me closer to him and kissed the side of my head.
“Let’s see your pictures, pup.”
Finally, I bit the bullet. I took a deep breath and opened my profile that had thousands and thousands of photos. With a smile on my face, I smirked at my hashtag #brandonccooper.That part would always be me.I wasn’t expecting to be upset when I opened the page, and I didn’t know if ‘upset’ was the right word, but something hit me like a freight train. As I scrolled through my pictures, I remembered every single one of them. I was smiling as pictures flew up my screen, and then I saw him.
Eli.
Something happened inside me as I looked at the last photo of me with him. The very core of me began to shake. It was after a night out at the movies and pizza.
It was a week before I would disappear.
A week before my life would forever change.
A week before I’d be drugged and sold like an object.
A week before I discovered cruelty that I never knew existed.
A week before my trust would be shattered.
