Unfiltered Story #270187

I’m part of a large group chat. Most of us only know each other online, but have built a tight-knit support network for everything from sharing memes to talking about serious issues and life problems.

One day my mother storms into my bedroom, yells at me for a small mistake I made while babysitting my brother, and takes away my electronics. I hate yelling and am barely able to hold myself together until she leaves. As soon as the door closes, I burst into tears, lock the door, and hide in my closet.

I cry for maybe thirty minutes before realizing that the best thing for me to do, besides cry, is to talk to someone. With my phone and laptop gone, I can’t text anyone or get on the group chat. Then I remember that I have a school laptop in my backpack.

I get the school laptop and get on the group chat. No one seems to be on, but I keep sending out messages, which grow increasingly more desperate.

Me: “Is anyone on? I really need to talk to someone.”

Me: “Please, anyone, I need to talk.”

Me: “Please, I don’t care who, just please someone talk to me.”

Me: “I’m really freaked out right now and I just want to talk to someone, please.”

Me: “I have to go, too scared to keep messaging.”

A few days pass before I’m allowed my electronics back. When I turn on my phone and open up the messaging app, I’m blown away—my friends have flooded the chats with concerned messages, freaking out over whether or not I’m okay, frantically asking each other if they’ve been able to get in touch with me, and sending phone numbers for mental health and domestic abuse hotlines. One of them has my phone number and texts me a message about a story I’d written a while ago with a domestic abuse hotline number seamlessly included.

I reassure them that I’m all right, that I was just freaked out by the yelling, and they’re all incredibly relieved. To this day I still remember their concern for me.