Behind the Filter, a Trail of Blood

§01

The sterile white walls of the borrowed studio felt like a hospital room for dying careers. A harsh ring light bleached all the personality from my face, turning me into a smooth, generic avatar for public consumption. This was my life now: Sutton Mercer, eight years in Hollywood, and my biggest gig of the month was talking to a webcam.

“Viewer count is holding steady at twelve, Sut,” my agent, Brenda, chirped in my earpiece, her voice a little too bright. “Engagement is… well, they’re engaging.”

I’m the kind of actress Hollywood keeps on the shelf—a B-lister who still gets called “that girl from that thing.” My face is familiar enough to make people pause, but not famous enough for them to remember my name. For the boutique talent agency run by my best friend and sister-in-law, Tatum, I was the reliable Granny Smith apple in a fruit stand. Not the most exciting, but you’ve gotta have it.

With livestreaming blowing up, making influencers richer than most actors, the agency decided it was my turn to get in front of a camera. The result was exactly what everyone expected. Crickets. A handful of people would pop in, type “omg you look so familiar,” and then pop out.

Then, after three days of this digital purgatory, a miracle happened. A request to co-stream flashed on my monitor. From a mega-influencer, someone with millions of followers.

Brenda’s voice crackled with urgency. “Sutton, accept it! Now! This could be your breakthrough!”

I clicked accept, and a stunningly beautiful woman appeared on the other half of my screen. Her nameplate read ‘Sky Rhodes.’ Her lighting was perfect, her makeup flawless. She was a pro. I glanced at her stream’s stats. Over 100,000 live viewers. My own viewer count was a humble thirty-five, which made me wonder if my parents had secretly hired a click farm.

Putting on my best professional smile, I introduced myself. “Hi there, I’m Sutton Mercer.”

Within a minute, my own chat flooded with over a hundred new people, all echoing the same sentiment.

“She looks super familiar, but I can’t place her.”

“Wow, her vibe is so chill.”

“She’s actually really pretty.”

Sky Rhodes, however, didn’t return my smile. Her gaze was cold, hostile. I felt a prickle of confusion. I figured it was part of some pre-planned skit and tried again. “Hey, it’s great to connect…”

“Sutton Mercer,” she interrupted, her voice dripping with ice. “Do you really not remember me?”

§02

Before I could answer, her fans unleashed a torrent of abuse in my chat. It was like a digital flash mob armed with pitchforks.

“Who the hell is this chick? She doesn’t know Sky Rhodes?”

“Is she pretending to be clueless? What a fake.”

“She’s not even as hot as Sky. How dare she call herself an actress?”

“So rude. Sky connects with her and she just sits there with a dumb look on her face.”

I genuinely had no idea who this woman was. I don’t really follow influencer culture; it always felt like a different universe with its own bizarre laws of physics.

But before I could explain, she spoke again, and her words sent us rocketing to the top of X’s trending topics. It was the first time in my eight-year career I’d ever trended.

She lifted her chin, her expression a mask of righteous fury, a performance worthy of an Oscar. “In high school, you and Tatum Donnelly bullied me relentlessly. Have you forgotten?”

She paused, letting the accusation hang in the air like a guillotine. The chat exploded.

“I’ve always wondered why you never apologized,” she continued, a calculated tear rolling down her perfect cheek. “It’s been years, but what you did had a profound impact on my life, on my very personality.”

“I know my family wasn’t rich, but I never felt less than anyone. That was no excuse for you to target me.”

“Now, I’ve finally built a life for myself, and I finally have the courage to confront you. I want you to tell me you’re sorry!”

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