So, Who's the Prey Now

A year ago, I was cornered in an alley by a group of thugs. They were pushing me around, laughing—until Jimmy showed up out of nowhere and pulled me out.

After we got together, Jimmy told me he had a congenital heart condition. I felt so sorry for him. I started working day and night, barely sleeping, just to save up for his surgery.

Then, just a few days ago, someone came running to me, frantic—said Jimmy had collapsed on the street and needed emergency heart surgery. I panicked. Desperate to get the money that could save his life, I clenched my teeth and sold my virginity to a bloated, disgusting old man who made my skin crawl.

Turns out, Jimmy never loved me. He was just using me—to get back at me for winning a scholarship that, apparently, should’ve gone to Gina. But that scholarship had been my lifeline. For Gina, it wouldn’t have even covered the cost of one of her handbags.

That was it. I couldn’t hold it together anymore. I sank to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably, as the soup in the thermal container spilled across the floor.

Agnes, you absolute fool.

Suddenly, my phone rang, the harsh tone cutting through the silence. The screen lit up: Unknown Number.

I almost declined it, but in a daze, I picked up.

“Is… this Agnes Kennedy?” It was a man's voice—someone I didn’t recognize.

“This is Dr. William from St. Westminster Hospital in Eirchester. I’m very sorry to inform you… your grandpa, Mr. Austin Kennedy passed away early this morning.”

He hesitated before continuing. “His final wish… was for you to attend his funeral.”

I heard the sound of papers being shuffled on the other end. “He also left behind a letter for you. And some personal items. If you’re willing, we can arrange a flight to the UK. Everything will be taken care of.”

I caught sight of myself in the window—hair tangled, clothes stained, eyes red. A wreck.

“I’ll go,” I said.

Long ago, I’d sworn I’d never have anything to do with my grandfather again.

When Mom got sick, he and the rest of the family stood by and did nothing. I promised myself then—I’d cut ties for good.

But right now, all I wanted was an excuse—a reason to get far away from here, to escape everything.

I didn’t go back to the hospital in the days that followed. I just quietly started packing.

Every time I picked up something Jimmy had given me—the faded scarf, the chipped hair clip, the knockoff shoes already coming apart at the seams. It almost impressed me, how much effort he’d put into finding such cheap junk from street stalls.

When Jimmy walked through the door, that familiar cloud of cologne followed him in. Now that I thought about it, the scent was ridiculously expensive—way beyond what someone supposedly scraping by with odd jobs could afford.

“Nessie…” he said, wrapping his arms around me. My whole body went stiff.

“Why didn’t you come the day of my surgery? Where have you been?” he asked, rubbing his face into my hair like a puppy desperate for comfort.

I forced myself to hold it together. “I was working. Couldn’t get away.”

“Where’s our photo?” He pulled back, scanning the now bare wall.

“I took it down,” I said, looking straight into his eyes. “Landlord doesn’t allow stuff on the walls.”

He let it go and fished something out of his pocket, two cruise tickets. “I planned a surprise for your birthday,” he said. “A coworker gave me these. Let’s go together.”

I bit my lip so hard it hurt. My chest ached like it was being crushed. After a long pause, I managed to squeeze out a quiet “okay.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, I collapsed onto the couch. My hand brushed against something cold—his phone, forgotten on the cushions.

The screen lit up. My heart dropped.

Pinned at the top of his chats:

[Gina: Make sure the video’s edited well—play it on the big deck screen during the birthday.]

[Ali: Get some close-ups of her losing it. Big, dramatic breakdown shots.]

[Cyrus: Jimmy, why so quiet? Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings?]

No passcode. My hands trembled as I opened the gallery and found the video. I deleted every last copy.

Just then, I heard his footsteps coming back down the hall. I shot up and ran to the kitchen.

“Nessie, I think I left my phone…” he called out.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself.

“Did you?” I said calmly—so calm, it surprised even me. “Then you’d better find it.”