Page 3 of The Guru: Shadow
“Seriously?” she asked her, but the cat, of course, did not answer except for a derogate look from her high horse of somehow being the superior species. Maybe she was. For sure she was.
Getting up to clean up after her? No energy left. What did it matter anyway? Her body felt heavy as if her bones were made from steel.
Completely drained, she reached mindlessly for her phone. Her last resort was to numb herself with doom scrolling through social media.
When she opened Instagram, she almost dropped her phone on her face. Her heart plummeted, and if she hadn’t been lying on the floor already, it might have just slid out of her body.
“You got to be kidding me!”
There it was – a lovely image of Sami and Chris on a beach, her in a white dress with a fucking ‘Just Married’ arch around them.
After a fucking week!
Her eyes flew to the caption.
“You. Always,” she read out loud to make herself processit. Three hearts followed the text.
This is a joke, right?
Only it was not. Her mind started spinning again in a blurry hurricane of blind, uprooted rage.
She needed to get the image out of her mind. Fast. So she scrolled.
Her eyes fell onto an ad. ‘Do you want to be happy? Live the life you deserve? Learn how to attract whatever you want in only four hours.’
What bullshit. And only to prove her point, she clicked on it.
There was this woman, Lauren T. Sanders, her name, long brown hair playing softly in the wind, covered in golden tattoos, while she sat with her legs crossed in an expensive-looking house with a view onto palms and the ocean.
She talked about how her life radically changed to the best life possible after she used her method. How she manifested all her wealth by changing her energy and mindset. And how everyone could do it.
Utter rubbish,she thought and threw her phone in the corner while letting herself fall back down onto the hardwood.
If it’s that easy, poverty wouldn’t exist, nor injustice, no racism or exploitation would happen, and everybody would be rich as fuck. It’s the same shit my mother believed in, and look where it got her.
Unsure of how long she had been staring at the ceiling, but when her phone vibrated, the day had become night and the blood on her arm had dried into a dark red crust.
Once.
Twice.
“Fuck off,” she cursed.
Thrice.
Only she couldn’t ignore it any longer, as curiosity beat exhaustion.
Hello FOMO, old friend.
So, she heaved herself off the floor and picked up her phone from the corner.
After she dismissed the battery warning, telling her to charge, she saw the stupid ad was still running, a big button bumping in her focus. ‘You’ll always be stuck if you don’tinvest in yourself! It’s only $199 today.’
Ten points for marketing: making people believe they need to invest in someone else to make their problems go away.
As she slid down the notification center, she saw three messages from Julie.
Julie