Hippity Hoppity Get off My Property

    TW: This story contains mention of death, and some physical violence.

Hater's will stick to you like honey, especially when you have everything they want.

 People have the audacity to talk about one of the most loved people in the country. Or at least I thought I was the most loved person in the country, but there is a difference between love and fame and success. Just because I’m famous, doesn’t mean that people actually care about my feelings. I’m just a woman in a spotlight. I was strolling on a cloudy day downtown in New York, I heard people talking about me. Me, the owner of the biggest beauty distributor. Me, a person who gives money to the people I pass on the streets that are less fortunate than I. Me, a person who does things for the greater good. Ok, maybe I'm making myself look good, when in reality, I only take care of myself and I do not fool the public eye, in fact I seem to scream, “selfish” and no matter what I say, it tries to change the way I see myself. I have a stalker who constantly writes horrible things in my posts. Telling me, “You’d be better off dead.” These comments seemed to spike up from this one person over time. I kind of cared and I kind of didn’t. Some days, it truly bothers me when I got comments like that, but other days, it doesn’t. Those comments are the things that get my self-loathing started.

People are constantly talking about me on social media, but those are strangers, so I don't take it personally. I get that I'm kind of selfish, but isn't everyone? There are some things I regret about being famous, hate is at the top of my list. Either my waist is too big, or my body is too thin. My hair is flat, my hair is wild, and the dress is ugly. There is always something the public will find. They put a microscope under it, laugh, and point, and highlight it until all people can see are my flaws. Yes, I've cheated on someone before. Yes, I've bought stuff for myself when I could have bought something for someone else. Yes, I've ignored calls from my mom to avoid having to hear her lectures about hell and selfishness. But there is one thing I haven't done. And will never do. I have never talked shit about someone, to their face or behind their back. I resent people like that. Loathe them even. The ones who have nothing better to do, but gossip about someone else to hide their insecurities and make others hurt as much as they are hurting.

I am a bitter twenty-year-old, regretting fame and all the things that come with it. For one, I don't have to worry about money. I can buy whatever I want. The con is that making real friends and dating an honest person is almost impossible. Because they don't want my company, they want my money. I tell myself this even if it's not true so I can hide behind it; when things get serious, I tend to bolt. Most of the time, people are looking to say, "I'm friends with Rina Hostler." Or they simply want to marry me and take the money. Either way, I don't trust anyone but myself. I know my brain from the inside out. I know myself more than anyone in the world. I know my favorite color is blue because it reminds me of the ocean. My favorite food is Italian because my grandmother always made it when I felt sad that no one in school would be my friend. She's dead now, but it reminds me of her and that she may have been the only true person I ever knew. Being in the spotlight may not be all that people say it is. Sometimes, people tell me, “You chose this life.” I keep walking. I don’t see how being the daughter of Brian Hostler is a choice. I didn’t choose this. Maybe I chose to start a beauty company, and maybe it became so popular that I made millions. But I did not come in with the intention of making money. I’m interested in perfume, makeup and hair products. I just am.

There are two people in this world who I trust. First, Megan. I’ve known Megan for thirteen years. We grew up in the same town, and in the same elementary, middle, and high school. We had rough parts, like in middle school when I dated her ex-boyfriend and then lied about it, but in high school we decided we didn’t need boys. We shouldn’t let a guy tear apart our friendship. So, we made a truce. We told each other everything and relied on each other to get honest advice. Whether or not I have hair under my nose. If my face looks oily or the dress is too baggy. We were honest, and if you told us we were cruel, we would say, “If being honest is being cruel, you need to dumb down your ego.”

My sister, Haley has blond hair and perfect ocean eyes. She means the world to me. Sure, we argue like every sibling in the world. If you have never argued with your sibling, now that’s scary. Anyway, she is the closest thing to me. We do things together. Like when I found a guy online, he was really a creep stalker that kept threatening me. She defended me, slept in my house, and swore she’d be here for me if he showed up. She had told me, “If he hurts you, he’ll have to go through me first.” I trust her more than anyone.

As I’m walking down the street, I hear the sound of the three of them around the corner. I’m guessing they are having a little reunion, but without me? I think about greeting them, but I halt when I hear them whispering. I am tense when I hear my name.

“Rina thinks she’s better than everyone else. I like her as a sister, but why is she so successful and I’m not? I didn’t just come to talk to you guys about this, but I called you guys because I have something to confess.” Haley tells them.

“What is it?” Megan asks.

“Do you know about Rina’s troll, her stalker and hater? Well, EvilDevil333 is me.” She laughs.

I feel my hands sweat. My heart sinks like all the hope is falling down the drain. Why does it sound like she’s won a grammy? God, did I believe there are people out there that will protect me when I have no one. In reality, its fake? I say I only trust myself and Megan, and Haley but the truth is Haley is the only one in the world I trust. I trust her more than myself and more than Megan. I would put my life in her hands without doubting she’d protect me. Now, I see how foolish I had been. It’s a battlefield. Every person for themselves. You have to rip down their castle before they ruin yours. I feel acid run through my veins. I swear I’m seeing red. Every time I take a breath; it feels like I’m sucking a lemon. I let out a gasp, and they seem to hear that. My heart is beating in my ear as I remember all those threats from that person…that happened to be my sister. I trusted her, she said she’d protect me. But she was the one sending the threats. God damn it, I trusted her. The stalker had said, “I’m going to peel your confidence off your face like I’m ripping off a banana peel.” This person was the one thing that made me want to die. All those words tore me. It broke me again and again. I called my sister for comfort. I called her for her reassurance. She had said, “Words can’t hurt you. I will never hurt you.” She kissed me on the cheek. What is wrong with the world? I didn’t ask for this! I’m just trying to live by doing what I love. I’m not trying to be selfish. But if you’re put under a microscope, you’re going to find things you won’t like. It’s inevitable.

“Rina, did you hear that?” Haley’s face froze.

“Fuck you!” I hiss through my teeth. “I hope your happy with yourself because now I’m cut through like Swiss Cheese.” I ran away from her, and she followed me.

“I’m sorry, I guess I have some issues. I just get jealous sometimes!” She screams from across the street. People are staring, taking out their phones when they see who we are.

“You think you got issues, that’s your excuse?! What the hell is wrong with you? I trusted you.” My voice cracks. “I…I loved you. I believed you and you were literally the most important thing to me. You went behind my back, did things that hurt me in the worst way and then lied to my face. You are dead to me.” I glare at her, my face contorting.

Yes, I’ve made mistakes in the past twenty years. And yes, I learned forgiveness and to treat people the way you want to be treated. I never guessed that this would happen. When strangers threaten me, tell me the world would be better off if I was dead, well then that’s that. I stand up, get over it, and move on with my day. It’s a person who is simply trying to get under my skin. When the hate is from someone I know, someone I care about dearly, well than it’s a different story. This felt raw; I feel like a complete idiot. God, I was blind.

“I’m truly sorry. I don’t have an excuse.” Haley sighs.

“You don’t have anything to say?”

“Um…”

“What about, “Oh, I’m sorry I was the secret troll that made you regret your existence.” Or maybe just go with, I have no excuse, “I’m just plain evil.” Or maybe just walk the hell away because there is nothing you can say.”

“I live under your shadow. It’s all about you all the time. If you didn’t know, you’re the favorite child. Mom loves you. In fact, she talks about you constantly. Rina this and Rina that. And your so stuck up in this fantasy that you don’t see anyone other than yourself.”

“That isn’t true. You can’t blame someone else for having a life because you have no life. Success happens and sometimes it doesn’t, but even if it doesn’t it does not mean you have the excuse to become a horrible person. Even if I was under your shadow, I’d never do what you did to me.”

Haley begins to cry, tears streaming down her pathetic face.

“Oh, now you are crying? You’ve got to be kidding me! What kind of joke is this?” I walk away and I don’t look back.

I put in the code to my apartment door while counting the amount of time’s I’ve used my credit card today. Usually, I like to limit spending two hundred dollars a week, which was a habit I enforced because I thought I was selfish. Now, I realize that I’ve only bought myself lunch today so when I get to my apartment, you can bet I’m going to be laying on my bed and scrolling through Amazon.

By the time I get into my room, I hear knocking at the door. I roll my eyes, maybe it’s just a package being delivered. I feel the edges of my bed, the pillow, the silk sheets and the way my body is just as smooth as the blankets. Then, I think about the houseless people I saw on the street, (I hate it when people call them homeless, because that would mean they have no home. They just don’t have a house.) I’m guilty that I’m here buying things when some guy is begging for money so he can buy peanuts. What’s wrong with me?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I sigh again, get up, and sit back down. I pace the room when I hear someone knocking at the door again. I know it’s Haley, it has to be. But why would she knock? She has the key. I open my phone, check her location and freeze. She’s walking a few blocks away. She is not even in the building.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I walk to the door, thinking that it is Megan. When I open the door, I see a figure wearing a black mask. I hold my breath. Shit, I should have brought a knife. Is the mace in my room? What does he want? Is this how I die? Pathetic. I’m guessing he’s a man: he’s muscular under his thin black outfit. But women could be muscular to. I’m in one of the wealthiest districts, how could there be a break in?

“What do you want?”

He laughs, pushes me out of the door frame as if I weigh nothing. His hands on my body sparks fear. I’d give anything to have Haley break in instead of this man.

“Who are you?!” Silence. “Help!! Help!” I scream, but he puts his gloved hand over my mouth. I muffle a protest, try to kick my way free. Maybe if I squirm, I can wiggle my way out.

“Shh, relax. Your fine.”

I kick him in the balls with my knee. He groans, stunted for a second. I ran out the door, but he grabbed me by the neck. I hear the cocking of a gun. I feel the hard, cold movement of a gun to my head. He’s moving back and forth, daring me to move. I freeze.

“That’s what I thought.” He sounds pleased.

“What do you want?” I whisper. “Who are you?”

“Someone you had mistaken as someone else.”

“What does that mean?”

I hear the thudding of feet on the stairs, and I don’t know why, but at a young age, I could always pick up if I knew the person or not just by the way they walked on stairs. I know for a fact that this is Haley. The man shuts the door, grabs me by the neck and clamps down on my mouth. I fight back, kicking and squirming, but God he’s so strong. What does this man eat?

“Listen Rina. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” She sounds so weird; I know her acting voice when I hear it. “Open the door and let me give you a hug. If you don’t answer I’m going to call the guards to make sure your okay!” She laughs.

He opens the door, and I kick him, trying to whisper to leave her out of this. This is between me and him. Right when he opens the door, Haley shouts, “Now!” And kicks the man, shoots him in the leg. There are multiple guards, along with Megan. They tie him down; Haley hugs me.

“I’m so sorry. But he made me say that.”

“Um…”

“Basically, when you heard us talking around the corner on your street, five minutes before he had pointed a gun at my face saying that I needed to pretend to talk shit about you, and say I was the stalker. He wanted you back in your house, maybe so he could kill you or do who knows what. Either way, we made a deal that I would say those things and I’d be the victim who was grieving because of her sister’s disappearance. He also stole money from your bank account to split between us, threatening that if I were to stop him, he’d kill me in a flash. Megan had no idea was what happening and if I told her, he’d kill us both. I’d rather die, than let him take you so I got the guards, the police are outside, and you are safe. Could you ever forgive me?” Haley is crying, I am crying, everyone is crying.

“Oh, Haley. I can’t believe I thought that stalker was you. I feel like such an idiot. I love you so much. Come here.” I kiss the top of her head.

Haley and I turn to the man struggling against the guard’s handcuffs. We reveal his face…I don’t even recognize the face. Must just me some weirdo with a crazy brain and a hopeless life.

“I will find both of you and you will have a horrible death!” He shouts as they haul him out.

Haley and I look at each other for a brief second, and scream in unison, “Hippity hoppity get off my property!”