But lately, the comment section, much like my phone, had become an uncomfortable place.

One glance in the mirror revealed that my face was still red and swollen from the reaction last night. I considered filming anyway and revealing details about my reaction to coconut.

But what if it was one of them? No one was safe anymore.

I opted not to make a video this time and I went through the motions of my workout, barely feeling it. As suspected, I didn’t feel much better when I was done.

I closed the curtains and slipped on a loose dress. In the rush of my emergency last night, I’d left my cell phone and other belongings behind in the closet. I opened the closet door and reached for my phone.

It was sitting on the shelf, face up, the screen flickering and buzzing as notifications came in.

Someone had messed with my phone, I realized in horror, hand stopped mid-air as I reached for it.

I was a creature of habit and for the past year, I’d developed a habit of always leaving my phone face down, somewhere I couldn’t see it. It helped me avoid distractions while working at the gym, but also it helped me avoid seeing the awful, threatening messages I’d been receiving via texts and online.

There was no way I would have left it face up. No way…

But when I picked it up, the screen was still locked. No one knew my code and there was absolutely no way someone got in and snooped through my phone. I chastised myself. I was just being paranoid…

Perhaps it was just the cleaning staff that moved it. Or perhaps I’d gotten lazy in my normal routine due to all the stress and anxiety.

Flipping through nearly a dozen messages, I was fraught to discover they were all from the same person. More threats. More taunting. If they’d had it their way, I’d have been left for dead after eating all that stupid cake last night.

I put the phone back on the shelf where it belonged—face down. As I emerged from my room, I found the hallway deserted. Moving from room to room, I peeked in at all the empty beds.

Rosalee and Elizabeth had made their beds, corners tucked in neatly. But the other women had not.

Poor Elizabeth. She was a nervous wreck when we came back to the mansion last night. I wondered if she at least got some sleep after sitting at the hospital half the night.

Down the twisty staircase, I made my way to the first level of the house. I was met with more silence, like I was walking through a tomb or the inside of a vacuum.

I had the strangest thought—that perhaps I’d died, after all, and now I was just a lonely ghost, wandering these halls for eternity.