Second Sister

by Chan Ho-Kei

  Violet felt as if she were about to collapse. She slapped herself hard across the face to steady her nerves. She had to be stronger, otherwise she’d hold her brother back. He always found time to respond no matter how busy he was, she told herself. The terseness of his replies today must mean he was dealing with something very important.

  He’ll definitely call later, she told herself—he said he would.

  She sat in front of the computer all morning, monitoring developments on Popcorn. There were no more harassing phone calls, and no one posted any new messages. She considered logging on with a different ID to lecture the netizens on their behavior, but what if this caused a bigger backlash? Besides, she wasn’t as tech-savvy as her brother and would probably leave tracks. He once told her that people get caught on the internet if they’re too impatient and overplay their hand. Only by holding your nerve and keeping things low-key could you escape the notice of the law.

  The reference to a “dude’s name” in the replies told Violet it probably wasn’t her name that had been exposed. Perhaps it was her brother’s, or someone else altogether. She didn’t understand why ZeroCool had her number. The only thing she could be sure of was that the backup file ZeroCool had was definitely her brother’s—there was no way her original inflammatory post, her account number, and kidkit727’s password could all be there by coincidence. Her brother had probably put her phone number first in the file record, leading ZeroCool to assume it was his.

  “Are you okay?”

  Violet jumped at the voice behind her. Miss Wong was standing at the bedroom door.

  “I knocked a few times. I was afraid you’d fainted,” she explained.

  “No, I’m fine,” said Violet, slamming the laptop shut before the housekeeper could see what was on the screen. She forced a smile. “I was really absorbed in this.”

  “I’m going home—I’ve finished the chores,” said Miss Wong, her eyes shooting to the laptop as if she found Violet’s behavior peculiar. “Shall I make you dinner?”

  “No need. I’m going out later.”

  “All right. I’ve got tomorrow off, so I’ll see you the day after. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Violet hadn’t planned to go out, nor did she feel like it. All she cared about was the chatboard activity, and waiting for her brother to call. She didn’t want Miss Wong to notice how much time she was spending on Popcorn. This woman wasn’t on her side.

  Her father had secretly asked Miss Wong to spy on Violet, particularly if she did anything connected to her brother.

  Violet also knew that the previous domestic helper, Rosalie, had been fired because Rosalie felt sorry for her.

  It got to evening, and her brother still hasn’t called. Not even a Line message. Each time she picked up her phone, she felt conflicted: hoping to see a text from him, but also terrified of the “42” on the screen. More than forty vicious voice mails pent up on her phone, waiting for her to unleash them.

  She had no appetite, but decided to go get some dinner. Her brother once told her that it’s even more important to make sure you eat well when you’re in a bad mood, for hunger can affect your judgment. Her father didn’t like her to eat instant ramen or snacks, so there was nothing in the house but rice, eggs, and raw vegetables. She didn’t feel like cooking.

  “Going out, Miss To?” said the security guard, smiling as she stepped out of the elevator. She nodded and went out without saying anything. The guard was another of her father’s spies.

  Broadcast Drive was a residential neighborhood, and there was nowhere to eat apart from the staff canteen at RTHK. Otherwise it was a ten-minute walk to Lok Fu Place, or along Junction Road to the area around Baptist University and Hospital. A day earlier Violet had wanted to be surrounded by people so she could be distracted from her thoughts. Now she was frightened of anyone looking at her. She turned down Junction Road.

  There was a tiny park between Broadcast Drive and Junction Road. As a little girl, she’d often sat here with a library book in the shade of a tree while Rosalie chatted nearby with the other helpers. Passing by the park now, Violet gazed at the burgeoning grove of trees, thinking of the past.

  “Murderer!”

  Out of nowhere, a female voice cried out in her ear. She almost stopped breathing. Frantically looking around, she saw no one except a man in a maintenance worker’s uniform about ten yards away, walking slowly down the slope of Broadcast Drive. She gaped, scanning her surroundings, but there was no one else around.

  Could she have misheard? She shook her head, chest heaving. Calm down, she told herself. It must have come from an upstairs floor of a nearby building—probably someone’s TV.

  Now she felt even less like eating. She made her way to a Western restaurant by Franki Centre near Baptist Hospital, ordered a plate of spaghetti, and waited distractedly for the waiter to bring it.

  “Murderer!”

  The same female voice. Violet almost jumped to her feet. She was sure what she’d heard this time—the same tone and pitch as the harassing phone call she’d received the night before. She quickly looked around. At the next table was a guy who looked like a college student, silently spooning borscht into his mouth. About ten feet in front of her was a round table at which a couple sat whispering sweet nothings to each other, apparently unaware of anyone else in the room. Then there was the hostess at the front counter, but she was busy going through the menu for the benefit of an old man who was trying to order takeout, and she hadn’t so much as glanced in Violet’s direction.

  Her spaghetti arrived, but her appetite was gone. She kept eyeing the student, then the female half of the couple, to see if either of them was watching her. Perhaps her name and address had somehow been revealed and she was being tormented in person—as if the phone calls weren’t enough.

  “Murderer!”

  This third time, Violet finally realized something that plunged her deeper into chaos. No one had reacted—not the college student, nor the young couple, the server on his phone, the hostess, or the old guy getting the takeout box.

  Violet was the only person in the restaurant who’d heard the voice.

  She kept trying to think of explanations—could every one of these people be coconspirators and this was an elaborate prank? But no, she’d just decided to come to this restaurant. She didn’t believe in ghosts, which left only one possibility, though she didn’t want to accept it: this was a hallucination. She’d heard a sound that didn’t exist.

  In other words, she was going insane.

  She leaped to her feet, tossed a hundred-dollar bill at the counter, ignored the startled cries of the hostess, and ran down the street as everyone in the restaurant watched. She didn’t stop until she got home, where she turned on every light as well as the television, pushing the volume as high as it would go. Not even stopping to change, she jumped into bed, pulling the covers over her head. As if this were the only place she was safe.

  From beneath the blankets, she thought about the string of nasty phone calls the day before, of SuperConan’s and ZeroCool’s posts, of the hallucination just now. Her mind was spinning. She longed for her brother to call, but feared that the next time her phone rang, it would be more harassment.

  Ding-dong!

  Violet started trembling violently. Like a wild animal wary of predators, she stuck her head out from under the covers. It was the doorbell, not her phone. She hesitated a long time, wondering whether to answer. Could this be a hallucination too? But it kept ringing, ding-dong, ding-dong, as if in response to the people talking on TV. Finally, she steeled herself, tossed aside the blanket, and went to the vestibule.

  She pressed her eye to the peephole and saw a familiar face: the night security guard.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, opening the door without taking off the chain.

  “Good evening, Miss To,” he said, smiling. “Another resident complained that your TV is on too loud.”

  She glanced at the wa
ll clock and realized it was already eleven. Grabbing the remote from the couch, she lowered the volume all the way down.

  “Is that all right?”

  “Sorry to have bothered you,” said the guard, as polite as ever. “Is anything else the matter? Mr. To asked us to take good care of you while he’s away.”

  “That’s nice of you. I’m fine. I’m going to bed now.”

  “All right. Good night, then.”

  Violet shut and locked the door, then looked at the living room—it was blazing with light, yet she couldn’t feel any warmth. The guard’s words revolted her—she knew her father hadn’t done this out of concern for her, a teenage girl home alone, but to prevent her from taking the opportunity to sneak her brother in here. Being disgusted with him was one of the few emotions her father permitted himself. When Rosalie allowed her brother in while her father was out last year, she’d been fired not long after that. Father hadn’t said anything, but Violet understood what was going on. She could understand—as far as Father was concerned, her brother was just a random stranger. In a way, so was she.

  Violet had no idea how many hours she slept that night. She seemed to hover between dreams and reality, thinking she heard her phone ring countless times—now with her brother’s voice, now with that vicious woman screaming “Murderer!” Yet when she looked drowsily at her phone, the call register was empty. Or was that part of the dream too?

  It was noon the next day by the time she fully awoke. Apart from the occasional burst of traffic noise from outside, it was silent in the bedroom, as if she were the only person left in the world. No more frustration or trouble—that was all someone else’s. Yet when she caught sight of the phone on the bedside table, all the confusion in her burst out, as if she’d turned the key in a lock.

  Why isn’t my brother calling me? she wondered. There’d been too many strange events the day before for her brain to process. Even after a night’s sleep, things didn’t feel right. She turned on her phone, but there was nothing from him. He hadn’t even read her last Line.

  Full of unease, she turned on her computer and logged into Popcorn.

  She was about to be greeted by the biggest shock yet.

  POSTED BY crashoverride ON 07-05-2015, 02:28

  re: Mastermind behind girl’s (14) suicide?

  Another burner ID, but this should be my last word. No more after this—back to my regular log-in and shitposting.

  I decrypted the backup file and made a shocking discovery. In one folder was a bunch of photos—all of secondary school students—and chat records, the usual boring teenage crap. I looked closely at the uniforms—and it’s the same school as that girl who killed herself!

  I don’t know how this dude got hold of all these kids’ data or what he plans to do with it. All I care about is the invasion of their privacy. OP’s (our pal SuperConan) point can’t be ignored—things may be even worse than we thought. Like, criminal worse.

  I’ve sent those files to the police along with an anonymous note explaining where they came from. I’m sure they’ll want to investigate. Also gave them this guy’s name and work address. If they want to find him for, uh, a little chat, it shouldn’t be too difficult.

  My last post got deleted for giving away personal details, but I’m going to do it again now. I found a picture of the dude in another file. I know some Popcorners don’t believe I’m telling the truth, so take a look at this pic. You’ll see it in the papers soon, when he gets arrested.

  Attachment: 0000001.jpg

  Below the post was a tiny little photograph: a man in a blue shirt grinning at the camera in some coffee shop. Violet recognized it as the Starbucks at Lok Fu Place; she’d taken this picture herself.

  Seeing it now, she felt as if a swarm of ants were crawling up her spine, along the back of her neck, onto her head, then burrowing into her scalp. She phoned her brother again, but no matter how many times she called or how long she let it ring, he didn’t answer.

  At a loss, she went back to the post. There were several comments under the photo:

  —Sniff … Sniff … I smell a conspiracy.

  —could this guy have some weird thing going on with the dead girl? play for pay, maybe?

  —Must be. Maybe they couldn’t agree on a price so he pushed her until she jumped.

  —Nah, that makes no sense. Can’t get a hooker so you kill her?

  —I think it’s possible. The dead girl was definitely a hooker, so maybe this guy was a stalker and fell in love with her after just one time. Then he discovered she was only after his money, so he set off a bomb: pretending to defend the stationery shop guy, but actually exposing the girl’s nasty part-time job to set an online mob on her. That’s a classic one-two. Can’t get the woman you love? Make her suffer.

  —well when you put it like that …

  No, no, it was nothing like that. Violet could only defend her brother silently as they turned him into some kind of animal with their wild speculation. She thought once again about creating a new account to deny these accusations—but what if that just made things worse? Severe lack of sleep and the huge amount of pressure had taken away her judgment. She had no idea what to do.

  Should she go look for her brother at his home?

  Or at his workplace?

  She felt as if she were trapped in a room, watching flames spread from a corner of the carpet. She couldn’t make them stop, and she couldn’t leave. This thread was now the hottest topic on the board—there was a new comment every few minutes, pushing it back up the home page.

  After countless phone calls and text messages, she finally gave up. Her brother wasn’t responding. Something was very wrong.

  At four o’clock, a new Popcorn post finally gave her an answer:

  POSTED BY star_curve ON 07-05-2015, 16:11

  re: Mastermind behind girl’s (14) suicide?

  Lookee here!

  http://news.appdaily.com.hk/20150705/realtime/j441nm8.htm

  [breaking news] Police arrest man Suspect stole student data

  A twenty-five-year-old man has been arrested on suspicion of obtaining large amounts of secondary school students’ data by criminal means, including cell phone records. He was taken from his home this morning by police.

  The police stated that they received an anonymous tip yesterday that this employee of a tech firm had infringed the privacy of many underage students. The internet security and IT crimes departments judged this case to be serious and expedited the suspect’s arrest. They also seized two of his computers. The public is reminded that obtaining other people’s private data is a serious offense, punishable by up to five years in prison.

  Unconfirmed reports say the suspect is connected to the case of the schoolgirl who committed suicide at Kwun Tong District two months ago. The investigation is ongoing, and police have declined to confirm this information.

  Her brother had been arrested. Violet’s mind went blank at the thought. A strange ritual was now going on in the chatboard, with posts such as “So there is justice after all,” “Serves him right,” and “Five years isn’t long enough.”

  Only one thought was going through Violet’s mind: she should turn herself in.

  If she surrendered, she might be able to take on some of her brother’s guilt. After all, she was the one who’d come up with the idea. Everything he did was for her.

  But was that the best thing to do? Her brain felt as if it were full of glue, and terror was eating her soul. It was exhausting just keeping her hands from trembling. As she hesitated, a new post gave her a moment of relief.

  POSTED BY mrpet2009 ON 07-05-2015, 16:18

  re: Mastermind behind girl’s (14) suicide?

  Don’t be too sure. The way I see it, this guy will get out of it easily. He didn’t post the stuff he had—ZeroCool went and found it. In other words, even if the police find it on his computer, he can say he downloaded it off the internet, same as ZeroCool. It’s really hard to prove stuff like this. There was a case a while
back—some guy got charged with posting revenge porn, but he had a shared computer, and they couldn’t prove if it was him or his wife, so in the end no one was found guilty.

  She’d almost messed up. What was her brother always saying? Just stay calm and deny everything. So what if he’d been arrested? He might not even be charged. They didn’t go after him for encouraging suicide or slander, just tech crimes. As long as they didn’t find out how he was connected to Enoch Secondary School, there was a lot of space for him to maneuver.

  As long as they didn’t find the connection …

  With a start, Violet realized that she was the key to the whole thing. She started shaking again, and there was a stab of pain in her throat, stomach acid rushing up her windpipe as she hadn’t eaten all day. Even so, she didn’t care what was happening to her body.

  “As long as they don’t find me, as long as they don’t find me …” she murmured like a chant. She didn’t usually talk to herself, but now couldn’t help uttering her thoughts. She slumped in a chair and wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth as she stared at the screen.

  “We don’t even have the same surname. They’ll never find me.”

  Time ticked by, one second at a time. All she could do was sit in front of the computer, looking out for new developments. She waited to hear that he’d been bailed out. Would he come looking for her? He must realize that she was the crucial element. That means he’d stay far away from her, to make sure their connection stayed secret.

  By the time the sun set, Violet had been staring at the computer for almost seven hours. The ritual abuse on the chatboard was still taking place as everyone enthusiastically debated whether her brother was guilty, what his motives could be, how he’d managed to get his hands on so much private data. What kind of illicit relationship had he had with Au Siu-Man? Most of this was pointless nonsense, but a few lines grabbed her attention.