The interviewer looks taken aback. “I’m sure,” he says. “We’ve been trawling your social media, and it seemed just a few minutes ago, your unnamed stalker struck again. Would you like to explain what happened there?”
“The issue with her stalker is an ongoing case,” Matt interrupts from behind me. “She will not be discussing it until it has been resolved.Ifshe ever wants to.”
Julie frowns, looking between him and me. “Well, I really don’t think that’s necessar—”
“No,” Matt orders, and she shuts up.I look over his shoulder, and see a couple of reporters giggling over their phones, glancing up at me and whispering.
Embarrassment burns in my stomach. Everything starts to blur. I feel that old wash of panic roll over me. My eyes dart from one face to the next. I have no idea what X looks like. For all I know, he’s right here, ready to jump out at me.
I grit my teeth and push through the fear. No more. No more.I spent my whole life as a child actor getting pushed around by adult men who were bigger than me and more powerful than me.I’m not doing it again. I’m not. If this guy thinks he can stalk me, intimidate me,ruinmy life, and run me into the ground hiding from him, he’s the thickest man alive. I don’t let men treat me like that. Ever.
I open my mouth. “Actually,” I say loudly, “I would like to give a statement about the man who has been stalking and harassing me.”
Matt frowns and shakes his head, but the man looks delighted.
“Oh!” He shuffles the notecards he was holding, then just dumps them on the ground. “Okay, then. What are your thoughts on the man?”
“I think,” I pause to consider my wording. “That he is the most repugnant man on the planet.”
Matt flinches behind me. The interviewer whistles. “Coming in strong, there.”
“Well, I’ve already seen his genitalia, so I would say thathecame in strong, actually. I don’t see why I have to be polite, when he’s completely incapable of not sexually harassing me.”
“Are you referring to the picture which was posted to your social media accounts? That was his, uh… him, right?”
“You mean the one-inch flesh-coloured slug?” I shrug. “It certainly wasn’t mine.”
“Briar.” Matt says behind me. “Stop.”
I ignore him. “Yes, that is the man I’m talking about. He’s been sending me creepy love letters for years now. I’m sure you all saw that he recently climbed in through my bedroom window and jerked off over my unconscious body. Thanks to whoever leaked that story, by the way. Really fucking charming of you. I love when the worst night of my life becomes tabloid entertainment for the masses.”
The interviewer glances off to someone on his right. “That sounds terrible, Briar. Just a reminder, this is live TV, so if you could keep your language PG—”
“And now I’ve just been told that he’s followed me all the way to LA, to—” I frown. “Let's see, what was it?” I pull the message up on my phone. “Get inside my pretty mouth.” I look up into the camera. “If I was ever unfortunate enough to have your prick in my mouth,X,you’d never regain the ability to have children. I bite. Hard enough to hear the bones crunch. You might think you want me, but if you had me, you wouldn’t have a clue what to do with me. I would eat you alive and spit you out. So I suggest you back the fuck off, and stop living in this deranged fantasy world where any woman would want a disgusting creep like you.”
Matt’s voice is urgent. “Briar.Stop.”
“No!” I spin on him, my voice climbing higher. “I’m not going to lie down and take this! This isn’t okay! It doesn’t matter how big afanyou are, if you take it upon yourself to break into myhouse,you can fuck right off!” He grabs my wrist, and I shake him off, turning back to the camera. “But, hey, maybe I’m being too harsh. I get it. It must be hard, living life, when your very presence makes women want to staple their pussies shut. I’m sure it’sunbelievablylonely, watching other men get dates, while you have to stalk your imaginary girlfriends from afar, hoping they won’t see your face and call the police. Hell, it must be really frustrating, how every girl you talk to at a party instinctively covers her drink, because you’re so goddamngross—”
“Right. That’s it.” Arms wrap around my waist, and I shriek as I’m lifted bodily into the air and away from the microphone. The interviewer gapes, and I see the cameraman tracking the movement.
I thrash, trying to shove out of Matt’s iron grip. “Get off me! I’m talking!”
“No, you’re not,” he growls in my ear. “You’re done. You’re done.” He settles me over his shoulder and starts carrying me away from the press line, towards the road.
I kick him in the shin, digging in my stiletto, and he doesn’t even flinch. “Get. Off. Me.” I hiss.
He ignores me, pushing through the crowd roughly. Everyone turns and stares at us. I see camera flashes go off and people pulling out their phones to record me getting dragged away.
“Are you okay?” Someone calls after us.
“Is this man bothering you?”
“Would you like us to call the cops?”
“Try it,” Matt barks.
I kick him again. “Put me down!”
