“Just last night, Abraham Woodson, the CEO of everyone’s favorite social media platform, SnapPic, has passed away due to an unidentifiable stroke. Currently, the company has yet to release a statement or any other information on his prior condition. According to sources from East Nationals, all company assets and position will be handed down to Paul Riordan, the Vice CEO, instead of Mr. Woodson’s biological daughter, Morgan Woodson, due to her age. However, all other funds and properties will be going to her once she reaches the age of 18--”

The television was finally clicked off, the now dark screen reflecting the girl in front of it. The female possessed brown hair that extended to her chest, along with a pair of blue eyes, and a slim body. Genuinely, a very pretty person. However, the frown on her face emanated negativity.

A buzz erupts from her cell phone, a new unknown phone number calling. About the hundredth today. Annoyed, she picks up the device, accepting the call, and promptly shoving it to her ear. “What?”

“Miss Woodson! Hi, I’m so glad you picked up!” The excited voice came from the other end. “So, I’m an old friend of your father’s, and I was just wondering--” Without another thought, the brunette ends the call.

Ever since the press released her name, she had been receiving constant messages and calls to her number. Someone must’ve leaked that, along with every other social media she used. Morgan was the daughter of a very famous and rich man who was now dead; it made sense that everyone wanted to leech off of her now that the spotlight was on her. However, as a 17 year old teenager, there was still quite a bit she couldn’t do.

It was only thanks to a coworker of her father’s, who was most likely getting paid for all the paperwork, that the girl hadn’t been enrolled in the adoption system for orphans. They managed to work out a deal where Morgan could live alone with the occasional visit from her new ‘foster parent’ to check up on her. Luckily, the address hadn’t been leaked, which meant she could continue to stay at her usual house. Despite this, the public school she attended had been leaked, and it was only a matter of time before some creep followed her home. Even though others tried to convince her otherwise, she refused to move or attend a different school.

Even still, it was the middle of a Wednesday, and she was still at home. Many thought she was grieving and were fine with her missing a day of school, but that wasn’t the truth at all. Morgan was used to being alone; her father rarely came home or even spoke to her. There was the occasional text message or so, but for the most part, Morgan didn’t know much about this man who was supposedly her father. His absence didn’t affect her much at all, actually.

Her phone buzzes again, and this time Morgan accepts it without even looking at the number. “I don’t care who you are. Stop calling me! I’m not interested in whatever bullshit you have to--”

“M-Morgan?” A timid voice comes from the other end of the line, silencing the brunette immediately. “S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to… Um… Is-Is everything okay?” It was a fellow peer of hers, Nadia. A girl who often pestered Morgan and acted like her friend. “You didn’t show up today, and with the rumors going around, I was just worried…”

“Don’t be. I’m fine.” With a quick tap, she ended the call. A sigh escaped her lips before she sits on the couch. She really didn’t want to get into it, least of all with Nadia. Sure, the girl was often kind to her, but she just wasn’t in the mood to deal with it.

This time, she dials in a number and waits for them to pick up. It was time to put an end to this nonsense, and only one particular service could aid her.

“Mozin Services, how may we help you?”

She shifts on the couch, adjusting her posture. “Hi, my name is Morgan Woodson. Code 392-15. I’d like to request a new number for my phone.”

“Just a moment,” The other voice pauses, clicking the keys of what sounded like a keyboard. “392...15… Woodson, right. May we have a reason for this request?”

“Spam calls and messages.”

“Right, okay.” Another pause as the woman looks over the information before her. “Would you like to keep the current contact information you have saved for your number?”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t have many contacts anyway.”

“I sent you a message. Could you just confirm it for me?”

Now there was a pause on her end as she checked the message, soon typing a quick reply in turn. “Confirmed.”

The next instructions given to her were relatively easy to follow, so she hangs up and goes through the steps as told. After restarting her phone, her entire call log was gone. No calls to or from her. Morgan felt quite relieved after this, thankful she wouldn’t be able to be bothered with anymore spam messages. Until… She got a notification from a InstaPic. The spam had followed her here too, and it wasn’t likely to die anytime soon. Only drastic measures could work at this point.

“Guess I’ll have to delete these too,” with a sigh, Morgan gets to work. “Goodbye social media.”