Only Haters

*TRIGGER WARNING: Story contains references to Sexual Assault and Suicide* Read in browser for darker background

: Kill Yourself

Tara stared at the screen. She had never seen a message in her chat like that before. A rainbow of reactionary comments carried it up and out of the window before she had time to process it.

: Kill Yourself

There it was again in the same evil scarlet lettering. So much malice contained in two words, rising malevolently through the chat box like a bubble in a beer as more comments pushed it up. Such a deadly sentiment for one so short.

: Kill Yourself

Tara was uncomfortable now seeing the message for a third time. The first time this happens and it occurs three times in less than a minute? All in the same color too, so she assumed it must be the same person. She leaned forward to scroll after the third message and was going to scold the chatter for breaking her rules, but then she saw the name and stopped. The anonymous account who had sent the message had called themselves “Death_To_Tara”. Tara was a CamLadies performer but she worked under the name Felicity Sphinx. The sight of her given name sent static through her skin. Did this person know her in real life?

: Kill Yourself

While relieved to see that others in the chat were condemning the dark behavior, Tara had had enough. These were her supporters after all, her paying subscribers and admiring fans, the offender should have known not to mess with her in front of them.

“That’s not funny,” she huffed, opening her creator panel to block the account, “You’re banned buddy.” She found the comment in the new window, ticked the account name and clicked on the button that read BAN ACCOUNT in bold white lettering.

*click*

She sighed in relief and closed the window.

“I’m sorry guys but I don’t really feel in the mood to keep going right now thanks to those comments. I’m really sorry but I’m ending the stream early today. I promise I’ll be back tomorrow, same time as always.” She blew a kiss at the end.

Messages of understanding and mild frustration began to froth within the chat as her subscribers sent hugs and kisses and goodbyes before the stream cut.

What the fuck was that?

---

When Tara switched on her stream the next morning with a new face of makeup, she had nearly forgotten about the mysterious messages. The stream proceeded as normal for a few minutes and she was feeling exceptionally chipper when a small dark cloud drifted on to her digital horizon.

: Kill Yourself

Tara reacted immediately when she saw the familiar scarlet font.

“What the hell!? That is not ok!” Determined to defeat these comments she clicked over to the creator window and saw that the account named “Death_To_Tara” was still blocked. She hadn’t had time to read the name from the new message but finding it now she saw it was sent by a user named “Death_2_Tara”.

What the actual fuck?

Tara quickly blocked the account and closed the window with a frown. The jerk from yesterday must have made a new account with a different email to circumvent her ban. Her heart started skipping. Who did she know who would do this? If this person had made an alternate account why wouldn’t they just make another? And another? This was more stressful than she had anticipated.

What if this person was determined to destroy her with this harassment? What could she do about it? Both of the screen names suggested that this could be the case. And why was the user writing both words with capital letters? Like a calling card? As if it was a statement rather than a sentence or instruction. It felt so formal and cold compared to the broken dialogue of the internet. Tara shivered.

: kill urself

Tara’s eyes flared with fear as she immediately clocked the lack of capital letters. This wasn’t just a different account, this was an entirely different person. She had to stop this before it got out of hand. She quickly clicked over to the ban tab and found the commenter, a MrTrollSack, and blocked the account. When she returned to her stream page however she saw another one.

: kill urself bitch

“Stop it or I’m going to end the stream,” she warned sharply, “This behavior is not OK.” The new remarks began to trickle through with the usual comments. Every five or ten messages a deadly line would squeeze in.

: kill urself

: u shud unalive

She hastily returned to her creator panel to ban the new collaborators but every time she clicked the button she saw another message would appear wishing her death. They were increasing in number to the point where she couldn’t keep up.

I’ll just have to soldier on despite the messages and hopefully they’ll go away

When she clicked back however, her chat was being flooded with a torrent of hate, and buoyed by its volume, her panic rose to the surface.

: Kill urself

: kill urself

: Kill yourself

: U shud kill urself!

: Die Bitch

: KILL URSELF

“STOP!” she wailed desperately, mousing over to the END STREAM button and clicking it. As the prompt box asked her if she was sure she wanted to end the stream another fifty messages flew through her chat demanding her demise.

*click*

With the stream ended, Tara saw herself in the camera window, blond hair, blue bra, she hadn’t even gotten started with work today before the comments began. And they were spreading, infecting her chat and the community she had painstakingly built. People who paid to watch her were now reveling in a new kind of entertainment, this time at her expense. Why had they turned against her? What if she could never work again? How would she afford to live?

Tara had been a CamLadies model for nearly 3 months now, having dropped out of college when her friend told her how much money she was making. Tara had made good. The guys and gals online seemed to like her and enjoyed watching her as she performed her various routines. Her stream had gone viral after gaining over a hundred subs in her first month, and it had continued to blow up from there. She’d gotten a kick out of all of the social media management skills she developed while she worked on her brand and marketing, and developed herself as a performer.

She hadn’t been prepared for the end of her budding career so soon and she hadn’t saved much of the money she had made. Most of it had gone to securing a small apartment so she had a safe location to film, and on costumes and makeup and equipment for her shows. She looked at all of the things she had converted the money into, unsure if she would be able to make use of them now. She hoped so but her faith in that was faltering. Tara sat hugging her knees to her chest in front of the vacant gaze of her expensive camera and cried alone.

---

---

A week had passed since Tara’s last stream, and although she knew the importance of consistency for her viewership retention, she really hoped her hiatus would cause her aggressors to lose interest and hunt for other prey. As selfish as she felt for her thoughts she just wanted to make a living. She sought out advice from another performer she knew who had been working in the industry for much longer than her, and Tara had been told to just roll with it.

“The guys that do this are fucked up jerks, they’re getting off on your reaction,” Thicc_ Ivory had told her, “If you don’t give in to their bullying they’ll get bored and go away.”

Tara did not confide in her counterpart that one of the commenters knew her real name.

I can do this

A week was long enough, right? Tara finished her makeup and took her spot on the carpet in front of her setup. Her computer sat upon her desk and looked down on her from behind her camera tripod like a disapproving god. She moved her bluetooth mouse so she could click the START STREAM button, but she hesitated. She felt her heart quicken with a subtle sense of terror as her eyes remained fixed on the button on the screen.

I can do this

She took a deep breath and clicked on the button. The small filming light on her camera blinked red and she put on her best smile and prepared to go into her opening lines, when the first comment appeared in the chat.

: Kill Yourself

Oh no

Tara’s heart pounded as more and more messages started to stream in, like a dam bursting forth under the pressure of so much animosity, finally released by her return to the online world.

: luk whos back

: kill urself bitch

: dumb hoe

: KILL URSELF NOW

: Sum1 shud kill her

Tara put on a brave face despite the comments and tried to play it off.

“Come on now guys, we have strict rules about saying that on this channel.” At this the messages increased in speed and number, rolling through her chat in almost indecipherable blurs of mockery, but unfortunately her quick reading skills allowed her to catch a little bit of every one. There were no nice messages mixed in anymore. Every single one was vile. They called her all of the names that every girl before her has had to hear. The same derogatory, belittling sentiments that had burdened women since before the tower of Babel.

“Please chat, why are you being like this?”

: D1e

: kill urself

: U dont dserv 2 liv

: KILL URSELF

: Kill Yourself

: kill h3r

: kill urself

: someone KILL this bitch

Tara could feel a sob pushing forth from inside, tugging on her chest and choking her breathing as she sat reading all of the horrible words. She coughed trying to hold it back and the tears in her eyes were met with an increase in speed , cheers, and taunting from the river of text flowing through her chat.

: STUPID B1TCH

: kill urself

: Kill Yourself

: Cry more!

: No 1 likes u

“Don’t you guys want to see what I have planned for you?” she asked hopefully, wiping her eyes and trying her best to ignore the deteriorating situation. Suddenly someone donated to her so their message would be read aloud by the synthetic speech bot for her channel.

-Im_Coming_For_You_Tara donated $5 and says : If You Don’t Do It I’ll Do It Myself-

Tara couldn’t move. She just stared with her mouth open at the message. This had to be the same person. It was in the same livid scarlet font glowing back at her. She read the whole announcement again before it faded from the screen. The account name Im_Coming_For_You_Tara gave her chills. The message was even worse.

If You Don’t Do It I’ll Do It Myself.

Were they coming to kill her? How would they find her? Once the message’s counterpart was carried off by commendations and jeers in the chat window, she watched in horror as the comments transformed from hateful taunting to malicious and disgusting descriptions of what they would do to her. Unspeakable acts were written with her in mind, causing her to shake in fear.

: FUCK YOU

: Were gunna kill U

: Kill urself

: DIE BITCH

: gonna rape you

: kill urself

: Im gonna fuck ur pretty little asshole

: LYNCHING ANYONE?? :) :)

: kill urself

: fuck you bitch

: die!!!

: i wanna skullfuck u

Tara hung her head and cried on camera to the celebration of her tormentors. They had won. This was it. What could she do? Her career was over before it had even really begun. She was just getting started and she’d grown her stream so much in such a short time only to have it taken down by these insidious internet trolls. 500 subs was no small feat but it would never be 501. Not now that she was frightened to be online.

She took the mouse in hand and moved the cursor over the END STREAM button to close the window of her profession for good, when the longest message of the day was read aloud by the synthetic voice bot and it sent her mind spiraling.

-Im_Coming_For_You_Tara donated $5 and says : TARA MCKINLEY, 395 WOODWORD DR APT 24A CHICAGO IL 60626-3644 USA-

Tara screamed and hit the button as fast as she could before the voice had even finished the read. The computer asked ARE YOU SURE?

OH SHIT

Tara tried to click the button on the screen to confirm but her hand was violently shaking with fright. This person knew where she lived. They all knew where she lived.

THEY KNEW WHERE SHE LIVED.

They could be outside right now waiting for her to come out. All of their unspeakable deeds were rapidly becoming more and more real within her imagination despite her better judgement. She finally clicked the button but it was too late. As the stream ended the final comments were all copies of the one that gave her nightmares.

: TARA MCKINLEY, 395 WOODWORD DR APT 24A CHICAGO IL 60626-3644 USA

: TARA MCKINLEY, 395 WOODWORD DR APT 24A CHICAGO IL 60626-3644 USA

: TARA MCKINLEY, 395 WOODWORD DR APT 24A CHICAGO IL 60626-3644 USA

Hundreds of people could have copied the address before the end of the stream, maybe even more than a thousand. And even if they weren’t serious about what they said, how could she believe that? How many people in the city knew where she lived now? If even one of her subscribers was an actual psychopath then she was screwed.

Tara would have to move but she didn’t have any income to make it happen. She felt trapped and small, like a prisoner in her own little world. They knew what she looked like. God why had she been so stupid? Everyone had warned her that CamLadies could be dangerous, that MEN were dangerous, and she didn’t listen. And now, sitting again with her knees pulled up to her chest for comfort, Tara wept.

---

---

A thumping at her door awoke her. Tara sat up on the floor bleary eyed with makeup streaked down her face. She must have fallen asleep. She looked out the window and saw it was dark outside. Suddenly the thumping on her front door began again and she freaked out.

She jumped to her feet in fear. Her eyes darted around her room for a weapon but found none. She was still just wearing her undies so she grabbed a baggy sweater from her wardrobe and a dirty pair of sweatpants from the floor and pulled them on in a hurry.

After packing and snatching her purse from where it hung on the doorknob she was filled with dread as she began creeping down the hard wood floor of the hall. She just needed to get her keys from the cute china bowl she stored them in by the door and she could sneak out the fire escape without having to confront the mystery visitor. Thankfully her flat was on the third floor so she didn’t have a long journey to make down the rickety stairs. How did they get in her building? She wasn’t expecting anybody which made her fear all the more overwhelming.

It has to be one of them

With this conclusion firmly in mind and her keys safely in her purse with her phone, she started toward the window when the knocking took up for a third time. Tara nearly screamed as she rushed to the window, prying it open and straddling the ledge. Her heart raced. She looked anxiously at the rusted metal stairway that led down to the lower levels and the ladder before she swung her other leg over the window sill and dropped onto the grating.

The metal made a banging sound as it creaked beneath the new weight and Tara took this as her cue to move as quickly as possible. She raced down the metal stairs, driving up a cacophony of clangs and nearly jumped onto the ladder when she reached it. She began to climb down, but the ladder had not been extended so when she reached the bottom rung she found a ten foot drop to the ground.

In her desperation Tara just let go, plunging through the air and landing on her feet with such force that she smacked her chin on her knee when she absorbed the impact. Blood bubbled in her mouth, she’d bitten her tongue. Tara looked both ways down the alley in a panic to confirm there was no one here. She quickly got up and chose to go left as the alley opened out on a farther street from her apartment entrance. She sprinted as fast as she could, slowing only at the end because of a sudden twinge in her ankle.

Oh Shit

She must have twisted it on the landing. Tara hobbled to the side of the building, peering each way before stepping out onto the sidewalk and limping quickly away from her home. She wiped some some of the blood from her chin on her sweater sleeve. She had nowhere to go. What was she going to do? Who could she call?

Her thoughts were disrupted by the realization that there was a man walking on the sidewalk behind her about fifty feet back. How long had he been there? She hadn’t noticed him. Tara quickened her pace but after a minute felt the man’s presence still there and slightly closer.

Surely they didn’t see me? The alley was empty!

Tara felt her heart speed up again, pounding like a drum that demanded attention. She sped up even more despite the pain in her step, moving at the unnatural pace of someone in a hurry, but so did the man behind her. She could hear his footsteps increasing with hers, or so she thought, keeping pace as the two played a terrifying game of cat and mouse under the Chicago street lights.

When Tara came to the next corner she took a right and started loping as fast as she could. She needed to find a store or somewhere with people that knew her where she could hide. Somewhere she might find protection. Strangers might watch until the end before they offer you any assistance.

She ran around couples and pushed through the thinning crowd that clogged the arteries of Chicago in the evenings until she saw an opportunity. Her favorite chicken place was only a few doors down: Dante’s Crispy Chicken. She redoubled her effort despite her failing breath and shrieking pain. Grabbing the handle she yanked the door open to the chirping ring of the bundle of bells that Dante kept at its top to signal incoming customers. The violence with which she entered the establishment immediately caught the eye of one of the serving staff who recognized her with concern.

“Are you ok?” the woman asked her, taking her aside to avoid drawing the attention of other customers.

“No, someone’s following me,” Tara panted breathlessly, swallowing some blood, “Please, is there somewhere I can hide?”

“Of course!” replied the server in horror at the new information, looking around towards the back of the restaurant, “Come with me.” Tara realized that with her makeup and the blood smeared on her face she must look atrocious. The two hastily retreated towards the bathrooms but rather than granting her access to the rooms with locks the lady led her beyond a door that read EMPLOYEES ONLY.

“You’ll be safe here. Do you want me to call the police?”

“Please!” Tara gasped as she collapsed into a plastic white chair and began to sob. The woman left and closed the door behind her. This couldn’t be happening. To her of all people, what had she done to deserve this? She had always been kind to people and treated them with respect! It reminded her of something her ma always used to say: “Shit don’t care how nice you are, if you step in it, it stinks just the same.”

Tara shuddered as adrenaline rippled through her systems, pumping everything up to eleven despite her deep breathing and desire to calm down. The repetitive thud of blood in her ears was starting to give her a headache. Her heart doubled its pace when she heard the familiar jingle of the door bells. She stopped moving. She stopped breathing. Had her stalker followed her even here?

Tara could hear a man talking with the worker who saved her but she couldn’t make out what they were saying or the tone in which they said it. Frozen like a statue, she waited in silent agony for the moment to pass. Her muscles were tensed, her eyes and ears wide and receptive.

Finally, after a century’s worth of thoughts, she heard the door jingle again as the customer hopefully departed. She breathed a sigh of relief. When the lady returned she informed Tara that her name was Jade and that the police were on their way.

“Was that him?” Jade asked Tara.

“I didn’t see who came in. Did he say anything?”

“He only asked for a small side of nuggets which is a little weird, but not unheard of” Jade replied putting a dark hand on her black hair and smoothing out some of the frizziness the humid kitchen in the next room caused.

“You can stay back here if you like,” she continued, “The police will be here soon.”

The police! Tara felt a growing sense of reassurance. Surely now this whole ordeal would be over? The police would escort her home and make sure she was safe. They would be able to corroborate with Kai, the Ecuadorian doorman at her apartment, on what the stalker looked like from Jade’s description and Tara might not have to move. Maybe she could get a job online as a brand manager for a company or something. Things were starting to look up.

“Thank you. So much. I’ll wait back here if that’s ok?”

“Of course!” Jade confirmed with a gentle smile, despite the concerned furrow in her brow. She offered to get Tara some water and departed once more.

But I should probably still move

Once the police arrived Tara found their response disheartening. They took the description from Jade and wrote down some notes: white male, about 6 feet tall, brown hair with a beard, blue eyes, a little big, but said there was little they could do. Neither had the resources to track anonymous accounts online, and the perpetrator may have been hiding their ISP making it almost impossible to trace. They weren’t even interested in talking with her doorman. Tara couldn’t confirm that the person who was at her apartment was the same person who was following her. She couldn’t even confirm that the person who was following her on the street was the same guy that had walked into Dante’s Crispy Chicken, and worst of all she couldn’t say with any certainty if any of them were the people that sent the threatening messages in her chat.

The police chose to remind her of the dangers of exposing yourself to anonymous people online rather than doing anything productive. Online strangers rarely acted on their words they told her. As far as these two boys in blue were concerned, after they dropped her back at her apartment building, their job was done. Tara was heartbroken.

“Feel free to call if anything happens,” the kinder police man with the soft voice offered from the passenger seat as the squad car rolled away. Tara couldn’t believe it. She stormed into the lobby of her building and asked Kai for a description of her mystery visitor.

“Your cousin Tommy? You don’t know him? He had a picture of you in his wallet so I thought… That’s crazy. I’m so sorry Tara, it was some white guy with a beard, little tubby I guess? You don’t know him at all?”

Tara was shocked but it subsided quickly. Of course her visitor might have pictures of her, they were all over the internet.

“Never let them in again,” she pleaded, “He’s dangerous.”

“Yeah no problem. We don’t want anything happening to ya do we?” he asked jokingly but quickly saw it was not appropriate. He tried to soothe her.

“Hey, hey I was kidding. Go upstairs, run a bubble bath or something, get some rest. You look shot. I’ll keep watch down here so make sure you get a good night sleep OK? I’m really sorry again.” Tara nodded pathetically and walked to the elevator to wait for her ride up.

The bath helped, and sleeping helped, but in the morning Tara still woke to a world where she was unemployed and had no prospects. She spent the morning looking miserably at apartment listings to see if she could relocate to a residence that wasn’t known to hundreds of horny internet strangers. Remembering how the police had laid the blame on her did nothing for her mood.

She spent the rest of the day moping around her flat in her comfiest clothes and considering the different options she had. She needed an immediate job, something that probably wouldn’t pay well but would be easy to find with her meager qualifications. Then she might need to go back to school, if that was even possible, so that she had something to approach the professional world with aside from her high school diploma and her arrangement of skimpy outfits. Her hopes of managing a brand online faded a little whenever she considered the world she would have to rejoin. What a horrible mess.

The next time Tara left her apartment was a full week later. She had avoided being online, choosing to spend her hours watching garbage tv shows on streaming services when she wasn’t house hunting for shared apartments, which was all she could afford. It was a crisp autumn day and the leaves were just starting to change all across the city. Tara loved this kind of weather and couldn’t wait to get outside now that her ankle felt better, but the brisk northern wind made her hesitate.

Did he just look at me?

Tara tried not to make it too obvious that she was uncomfortable as she left her building and started walking in the opposite direction of the bearded man she suspected, who was sitting on a bench near the street. To her dismay he stood and followed. Tara’s heart began to up the pace as she herself quickened her step and when she approached the next corner she sprinted to the nearest alcove and ducked into it. The man she suspected of following her walked to the edge of the street and waited for the pedestrian light before crossing the road. He didn’t look around for her once.

Was he not following her? Had she been mistaken?

The one thing Tara was upset she didn’t have was some confirmation that this was all real, despite wishing beyond belief that it wasn’t. From the police gaslighting her and her inability to identify the stranger, she had the growing suspicion that this could all be in her head, eroding her self confidence and making her feel even more powerless. How do you protect yourself from something that isn’t real?

The only proof she had was the man at her door with her photograph, but that was it, and even then she didn’t know if it was THE guy plaguing her chat. Her address had just been published to them all, it could have been a well meaning fan sincerely hoping to meet her with no ill intentions. It was doubtful, but how could she know?

And if it was him, it wasn’t just the one commenter anymore. She could have several stalkers at this point, all wearing unidentifiable masks.

All aware of where she lived.

She left the alcove and began to walk down the street, looking into the faces of the passersby as she slowly cut through the crowded sidewalk. Every time her eyes met a man’s they darted away, determined not to make eye contact.

And each time her heart pounded a little harder.

How was she supposed to live if every face she saw could contain a secret stalker? How was she ever going to feel safe again when there were potentially hundreds of anonymous figures who wanted to do her harm and knew where she slept? She spun around feeling eyes on her back but found no one looking at her.

As she began to return to her apartment dismayed, a man from the crowd bumped into her shoulder as he passed. She could swear another whispered the word “Kill” in her ear from behind her. Tara shoved the supposed whisperer with a shriek before sprinting down the sidewalk back to the safety of her apartment.

---

Tara eventually moved out of the city. She chose a quiet town in another state that I will not name here at her request, but she never did shake the feeling that she was being hunted. That someone out there wanted her dead, and they would spend time and energy to make sure it happened.

When she was younger and still in Chicago her panic attacks would sometimes draw attention to her, and compound her problem. It often went from one man looking at her to every man looking at her because everyone was watching as she lost control and the tears returned. After her money ran out she had no choice but to leave.

Tara is older now, more mature and in spite of her childhood dreams she never did find enough trust in a man again to settle down and start a family. She reckons she never will. Being the only daughter of a single mother meant that she never had any examples of men in her life who could remind her that they could be good, protective and helpful figures. She only saw the hunger in their eyes when she imagined what they wanted to do to her, the pain they wanted to cause her, the danger they represented. This was their world and she was just hiding away in a small corner of it.

Some days when she finished her shift as a diner waitress and made the quiet walk through the dark lot to her car, she still feels watched, and will spin around to find no one there. As no one always is. Deep in the darkest hours of the night, Tara is still ripped into consciousness on occasion and reminded of her fear by the burning scarlet letters that hang in her nightmares: Im_Coming_For_You_Tara.

© 2025 Sebastian Arends | Sincerely Seb. All Rights Reserved

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