The last thing I want to do is hurt you

-“There have been no updates. The site has always been like this.” The new staff post says. You agree, but something feels off.

-“These posts are gonna look weird when the format changes back,” you say, though you do not know why. Later, you receive an email. Your account has been deleted.

-You cry for the xkit guy to save you. “You know what you did to the xkit guy!” They scream. You stare at your bloody hands. You know what you did to the xkit guy.

-There’s another meme. You chuckle as the same picture of a glass shard in a toilet bowl shows up on your dash. You don’t get it. You reblog it anyway.

-“If it’s good enough for me, it’s good enough for queue.” Something screams, and leaps out of your computer. This always happens, at the scheduled times.

-“We’re always willing to listen to our users!” Staff says. It is a lie. Your friend sends them a message and disappears.

-You look in your purse. There are breadsticks there. You do not remember grabbing them.

A wicked grin split across my face and the gates of Hell opened up behind me, releasing a gust of hot wind that whipped my apron around my body and forced the woman to shield her face. Demons came forth, dancing around in flames with songs of, “She wants to speak to a manager. Did you hear that? She wants to speak to a manager!” before erupting into earsplitting shrieks of laughter, none louder than my own cackling.

I took in the woman’s look of utter horror before my eyes rolled back into my head and I growled,