Threadbare

"Mum, can I borrow your charger?" Daria frowned at the little empty battery icon, her thumbs swiping and scrolling as if they had a mind if their own. "Mine isn't charging my phone properly. The stupid thing doesn't last five minutes."

"I mean you can," her mum said generously, without taking her eyes off her TV show, "But it won't help. It's not the charger that's the problem. That thing is ancient, you said so yourself."

"I know, but I'm attached to it."

"Literally, I should think. Here," her mum handed over the charger, "But you're better off cleaning up the phone a bit. Take some of the apps off there, and shut down ones you aren't using. Do you know how to see what's eating up your battery? You go into Settings, see, that little cog thing-"

"I know, Mum," Daria said, and then, because she's hasn't meant to snap, she softened it with, "You haven't raised an idiot, you know."

Daria opened the usage log. One app stood out. No name. No icon. Just a blank tile and a spike in activity.

She tapped it. Nothing. Tried again. Still nothing.

Intrigue battled with irritation, but suspicion hasn't yet reared its head. Still, Daria was determined to get to the bottom of it. She opened her settings, and scrolled to permissions. The app had full access: camera, mic, location, messages. She hadn’t installed it. She hadn’t granted anything.

She felt a prickle of something. Like hackles going up, but she felt it all over. The sensation focused itself in her chest and belly, which suddenly felt very cold.

Something, whatever chilly, slimy thing was talking root in her gut, nudged her to take screenshots.

She did what any curious, persistent person does when faced with something like this. When turning the device off and on again didn't help, Daria bit her lip and thought about it.

"I'll get you, you slippery little-"

Daria tapped "force stop", and then went back in to the app. It worked!

Pages and pages of... Flirting? Heart emojis. Too many X's. I want to let you know when I'm thinking about you... You think about me? Course. You're special...

It's Jac. She knew it, right in the pit of her stomach. That's what the icy feeling was. Certainty.

Who was she? And why did he talk like that, like he was a little kid?

Whoever he was talking to, she seemed childish as well.

Ohmygod, he's a creep! And he's been grooming her using my phone!!

Daria wasn't sure what to do about this, but if she was going to confront him about it, she needed to keep the evidence. At any moment, he might realise she was snooping, and wipe the thread. Daria took several screenshots, backed them up on the cloud and emailed them to herself for good measure.

Now what?

Without even being sure it would help in anyway, but having seen enough episodes of Better Call Saul to think it was worth a try, Daria wrapped the pendant in foil, and then tucked it away at the back of her sock drawer.

"Mum?" She popped her head back round the living room door. "I'm just popping out. Fresh air, you know. Stupid phone is doing my head in."

"Alright. Take it with you though so I can get hold of you."

"Okay."

Daria shrugged into her jacket and stepped out into the street. She'd had no intention whatsoever of leaving the phone behind. She wanted to take it a good distance away from that bloody pendant and whatever creepy tech was lurking inside it. What she needed was to think, and use the internet, without his its input.

When she got home, she found a ceramic pot at the back of the pan cupboard, put the foil parcel in that, and tucked it in the back of the cupboard under the sink.

"Try creeping now," she muttered.

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