Who Are You?: With one click she found her perfect man. And he found his perfect victim. A true story of the ultimate deception.. Megan Henley
Читать онлайн книгу.
I finally calmed down. The next morning, Vic was up and about before I woke. When I rubbed my eyes and stretched my legs, there was a cup of tea beside me and he was making a cushion pile for Maxie on the floor beside me.
‘Well, it looks like he’ll be comfortable,’ I smiled.
‘Got to keep the boss of the house happy, haven’t we?’ said Vic.
‘Is that me or Maxie?’ I asked.
‘You’ll never know,’ he laughed, as Maxie settled happily into his new sleep area. ‘Ruby’s had her breakfast and she’s getting ready for school. I’ll drop her off – you just take your time to face the day, my love.’
He was so kind, so genuine. He was funny and played well with Ruby. I loved that he didn’t mind making a fool of himself with her when they played; that was a good sign in my mind. There was never any pressure from him for me to do anything or to say anything; it was all at my pace, and I felt so lucky to have him around. I dreaded to think how I would have coped without him, given all of my car problems, and I now felt rotten that I was bringing all of this trouble to his door with the nasty emails. Hopefully, that was a one-off; whoever had sent them had got their cheap thrill, and it had backfired in any case. Instead of the lies making Vic doubt me, it had brought us much closer together.
With Ruby at school, and Max ensconced for the day, Vic and I pottered about in the cottage for the rest of the morning. He would kiss me on the cheek or the top of my head every time he passed, but I didn’t feel his affection was claustrophobic in any way.
While I was in the kitchen making us some lunch, I heard him call to me.
‘Megan? Megan, love – can you come here for a minute?’
He was sitting at his laptop and my heart sank. I just knew, from the look on his face, that there had been more messages. I was right.
Are you stupid?
Why are you digging yourself in deeper?
You know she’s a liar, I told you that.
Do you know she’s a prostitute too?
Do you know she has sex with any man who will pay her?
Do you have any idea how many men she has slept with?
Has she told you? She won’t have told you. She’s a liar and a slag.
Ask her. Ask her what it’s like being a whore. Ask her.
The same comments, over and over again. Whoever it was just kept on sending message after message. Vic’s inbox was full of them – all from ‘a friend’.
Liar.
Whore.
Slag.
Prostitute.
Liar.
Whore.
Slag.
Prostitute.
Liar.
Whore.
Slag.
Prostitute.
I sat there, beside Vic, and couldn’t believe the quantity of the messages. Why was someone doing this? Who was doing this? Why were they sending them to Vic? Did that mean they hated me or him?
It went on for the next three days, non-stop. Every time Vic looked, there were more messages. Again I suggested calling the police, but he told me that he was giving ‘a friend’ enough rope to hang themselves. I had to ask him the question that was tearing me up.
‘Vic – do you believe them?’ I whispered.
He looked at me with horror.
‘How can you even ask that?’ he replied. ‘It’s maybe a bit early to say this, but I adore you, Miss Henley. This nasty piece of work hasn’t accounted for that. There’s only one liar here, and that’s them.’ I was so relieved, but I still didn’t know why it was happening. ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Vic. ‘Jealousy? Jealous of me; jealous of us? People can be nasty …’
He’d been through so much already; I hated the thought that I was the person who was bringing even more trouble to his door, but Vic assured me that all he cared about was how this was affecting me. That night, however, the nastiness got even worse. It was as if the person calling themselves ‘a friend’ was just pushing and pushing in the hope that they would finally get a reaction.
Have you found the pictures yet? they asked.
Have you found the special photographs your girlfriend likes posing for?
‘What are they talking about?’ asked Vic.
‘I’ve no idea! It’s just another lie,’ I told him.
Does she not make enough money being a prostitute?
Does she make more money from doing porn or more from having sex with strangers?
Do you think you’ll catch something, Vic?
Are you worried that your girlfriend is such a slag?
Do you think your friends will see her porn pics?
Do you hate her for posing like that?
Do you hate her for being a whore?
Do you hate her, Vic?
It was non-stop and, after the first couple of days, started to flood in from a lot of different sources and different email addresses. ‘A friend’ was joined by ‘Friend 101’, ‘Another Friend’, ‘Justlookingoutforyou’, and dozens more. It was as if Vic was getting hardly any other correspondence, just a deluge of this nasty stuff from God knows where.
‘I’ve had enough of this,’ he told me. ‘You just get on with your life, look after Ruby, look after Maxie. I’ll deal with this. I’ll find out who has done this, don’t you worry.’
But Vic was as useless with computers as I was. There was no way either of us could tackle this on our own. I was so ashamed at what was being said about me, but Vic needed to contact a friend of his called Martin, who was a computer expert. They’d lost touch with each other in the past few years, so I agreed that Vic could tell Valerie what was going on in the hope that she could find the man who might be able to help us.
Don’t you worry, darling, she messaged, Vic’s great to have on your side when things go wrong but God help anyone who messes with him or those he cares for. He’ll sort this out, don’t doubt that. With a family like his, he’s learned plenty in the past about tracking people down and fixing them.
He couldn’t do it alone, but, thankfully, Valerie did find Martin. He was living in Spain, but more than happy to help us out. My relief at his offer of assistance was soon overcome by the horror of what he found.
Vic/Megan – who is Christopher? he emailed one day.
Christopher.
My ex.
From that point, with Martin’s help, it all became clear. At some point – while we were together, or just as we split up – Christopher had placed some very sophisticated spyware on my laptop. He had been able to read all of my emails and FB messages, knew everything I had said to Vic, Valerie and the others, and was well aware that I was falling into a relationship with another man. Martin managed to remove the spyware and put a lot of complicated protection in place, but he also warned me that there was no way of knowing how long Christopher had been