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My mother never understood my fascination with the band The Gorillaz. I wasn’t really surprised by this considering she was a die-hard Country fan, but it always annoyed me as a teenager. I had just gotten into my freshmen classes in Naperville Central when the band dropped their second major album, Demon Days. Like most of their fans, I loved the album with El Manana being my favorite track out of the entire thing. My boyfriend, Thomas, seemed to only enjoy the album when we were ‘studying’ together. The album took over every aspect of my life when it came to entertainment, the only other thing I spent my free time on was MySpace. I, of course, joined the Gorillaz group on the site, and that was when I met him.
His name was George Smith, which would’ve set off my creep alarm if it weren’t for me being a stupid teen. He started the conversation with a simple ‘Hello’. I asked him who he was, and George told me he was a fellow fan from the Gorillaz group. We spent hours and hours talking about the band’s music, from Clint Eastwood to Fire Coming out of the Monkey’s Head, and soon began to talk about each other’s lives. I told George about Thomas, how he was such a great boyfriend. Yeah, Thomas was a perv, but he also listened to me when I was having a bad day and took me out on the weekends. This seemed to annoy George as he told me that Thomas was probably just trying to get in my pants, which in retrospect was probably right on the nose.
The last thing he asked me was what my address was. I had watched enough To Catch a Predator with my mom to know this was a big, fat no can do, so I told him that we shouldn’t talk anymore. He said he understood and apologised, which took me by surprise. George seemed like a good guy, he never mentioned sex once aside from warning me about Thomas, so I felt like I had insulted him when I said we couldn’t talk. I made the mistake of telling him we could talk again tomorrow, but that I just couldn’t tell him where I lived. He sent me a smiley emoji and said that was fine, he just wanted to talk to someone as cool as me. I put that I was offline on my profile, and before I went to sleep I checked George’s profile. He had a character from anime I didn’t recognize as his profile picture, a cute guy with black hair that had his bangs over his left eye. It said that he was 16, and that he lived in Illinois. It was a pretty normal profile, and while the picture made me think he might be lying about his age I wasn’t any better with my Noodle profile pic.
That morning I slipped out of the house, it was Saturday and I was ready to spend the day with Thomas. Mom wasn’t exactly ok with Thomas and I, considering that Thomas was a senior and I was just a freshman I don’t really blame her now, but as a kid I really didn’t care. Thomas was cool to me, he had a car, and he was willing to spend time to listen to what I had to say, as opposed to my mom who always told me I’d understand when I was older. Of course, being older I now know she was right most of the time, but I just felt good around Thomas. It was a usual Saturday with him, we went to the mall after getting McDonalds for breakfast, we looked around Hot Topic and Justice, and then we headed over to his place. Thomas had bought me a Gorillaz shirt and a new pair of skinny jeans, which he said made me look amazing. The second we got into his house we headed to his room, and I tried on my new shirt and jeans. Thomas’ eyes popped out of his head when I told him to uncover his eyes, and he took no time to come over and start making out with me.
We really got into it, his hot breath in my ear as he nibbled it while I scratched down his back, but the second I felt his fingers slide to the button of my pants I pushed him away. What George Smith had sent to me the night before flashed into my head, and I told Thomas that I had to go. I had never seen my boyfriend get angry before, but his face got as red as a tomato as he started to scream at me. He called me a cocktease and a whore, said I was a spoiled little slut who needed to be taught a lesson. I ran out of the house as fast as I could, I could hear Thomas’ heavy footsteps behind me getting closer and closer. I felt the cold winter air rush past me as I ran into the middle of the street, Thomas yelling at me to come back. That’s when I heard the car speed up, and the sick sound of metal hitting flesh.
I turned around and saw Thomas, or rather his body. His leg was broken to the point where it was almost wrenched off his body, his head was smashed in like a rotten pumpkin, and his guts were slowly sloshing out of his belly. I couldn’t help but scream as I saw my late boyfriend’s body, a crumpled mess of blood and guts. I hadn’t noticed that the car that hit him had stopped until I heard it honk. It was a black Camaro, the license plate read ‘Smith’.
Thomas’ parents came home and saw his body, I had never seen a grown man cry before Thomas’ dad, and I hope I never see it again. I told the police everything I could, but left out the part about George Smith. They wouldn’t have believed me anyway, so I felt like there was no point. After a week, I went to check my MySpace friends. George Smith’s profile had been deleted, but he left me one last message.
“I told you.”
I got rid of my MySpace account that night, and I avoided the site all together after that. It soon fell out of fashion, in favor of Facebook, but I didn’t get an account on there until recently. I moved out of state to get my Master’s Degree, and my mom wanted me to get an account so that she could keep in contact with me. My life has been stable since then, but the image of Thomas’ body was something I just couldn’t forget. However, that’s not the reason I’m posting this here. I just jumped onto Facebook to message my mom about my test scores and how I was doing, but when I got online there was a friend request waiting for me.
It was a friend request from George Smith…