What did your friend do that made you go “WHAT THE HELLY”!?

The Descent into Extreme Beauty

My best friend became obsessed with extreme beauty treatments, and when she crossed the line, she went to prison. Now she’s out, her face ruined by dangerous experiments, stalking me, determined to finish what she started. Ashley and I were your typical ugly besties.

I’d made peace with it early on, but Ashley was always comparing herself to other girls and feeling like she came up short. I spent years telling her we’re beautiful in our own way, but I could tell she never believed me.

Everything changed when Ashley discovered Korean influencers. She found this YouTube channel that broke down 15-step routines, and suddenly she was obsessed. Within a month, her skin was clearer, and she learned these subtle makeup techniques that made her eyes look bigger. She wasn’t Tik Tok pretty, but she’d become what people called Pinterest pretty.

For the first time ever, guys were liking her Instagram posts. She’d walk into my room with bags from Sephora showing me her haul, and I’d sit there grinning.

“I’m so happy you finally see what I always saw,” I told her one day.

She just hugged me and said I was the best friend ever. Her parents were thrilled, too. Everyone kept commenting on her transformation and newfound confidence. After about 6 months, Ashley started getting into more extreme treatments. She discovered vampire facials, where they inject your own blood back into your face.

Then, she found out about placenta treatments. She’d send me articles at 3:00 a.m. about how celebrities use stem cells to look younger. I thought it was just her new hobby until things got weird.

I went to her apartment one day and found her in the bathroom with a syringe drawing her own blood.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

She looked excited and explained she was making DIY serums.

Storebought stuff is diluted.

This is organic.

She had this whole setup with test tubes and everything. I told her it seemed dangerous, but she waved me off saying she’d done tons of research.

The next few months were a blur of Ashley’s experiments getting more extreme. She started paying this sketchy esthetician for blood facials. Her face was constantly swollen and infected, but she called it cellular renewal.

One day, I was looking for ice cream in her freezer and found rows of labeled blood vials. When I confronted her, she explained super calmly that she was reverse aging at the cellular level. She even showed me her journal where she tracked her treatments.

The worst part was when my used period products started disappearing from the trash. Because a few months later, I found them in a plastic bag in her bathroom drawer. I literally wanted to throw up right there and then.

When I confronted her, she said,

“You throw them away anyway.

I’m just harvesting what you waste.

I wanted to tell my parents, but I was scared of what they do”.

So instead, I started distancing myself. But Ashley was non-stop texting me updates about her progress. She’d send selfies of her swollen face, saying things like,

“The inflammation means it’s working”.

I tried talking to her mom, but she thought I was just jealous.

Nobody else saw how far Ashley had fallen into this obsession. Everything came to a head when I was babysitting my neighbor’s newborn. Ashley knew I’d be there and showed up unannounced. She said she missed me and wanted to see the baby. I was lonely and caved, letting her in.

While I was warming a bottle, she disappeared. I later found her in the nursery with medical supplies spread on the changing table. She had a band on the baby’s tiny arm and was filling a syringe with blood. The baby was screaming and Ashley was just calmly drawing vial after vial.

She explained like she was teaching a science class.

Newborn blood has the highest concentration of growth factors.

Just a little from the heel like they do at hospitals.

I immediately lunged for the baby, but Ashley blocked me.

Don’t you see what I’m doing?

This is the breakthrough I’ve been working towards.

She already had one and a half vials filled and was going for a third. The baby was getting pale and lethargic. Ashley kept talking about how babies produce excess blood and she was just harvesting the surplus.

She pulled out another syringe filled with cloudy liquid.

Look, I already injected some.

Her face was swelling grotesquely as we stood there. One eye was almost swollen shut.

I almost screamed, “Can’t you see I’m already looking younger?”

She actually believed it. I managed to grab the baby while she was preparing another syringe. I ran to call 911 while Ashley followed, begging me to understand. She kept saying,

“The beauty industry doesn’t want us to know the truth”.

Even as the paramedics took the baby away, she was explaining her theories to them.

The baby survived but needed a transfusion. Ashley was arrested and was released 5 years later, and in her eyes, I was the one to ruin her beauty, and she was ready to make me pay. I stood frozen at my apartment mailbox, staring at the photo on my phone.

Ashley’s face filled the screen, swollen and distorted from what looked like fresh injections. Her left eye was completely shut, the skin around it purple and stretched tight. The text underneath made my hands shake.

I never stopped my research.

5 years. She’d been locked up for 5 years, and this was the first thing she sent me. I dropped my mail and ran up the stairs to my apartment, fumbling with my keys.

My boyfriend Jake was on the couch watching TV when I burst through the door. I shoved my phone in his face, my whole body trembling. He squinted at the screen, then shrugged.

Your old friend got out of prison and wants to reconnect.

Maybe she’s changed.

The next morning at work, I couldn’t focus. Every time someone walked past my cubicle, I jumped.

Around lunch, I went out to my car to grab my gym bag. Ashley was standing by my driver’s side door. She looked worse in person. Her face was lumpy and uneven, like someone had stuffed marbles under her skin.

One eye still wouldn’t open fully, giving her a permanent squint. She smiled when she saw me, revealing teeth that looked too white against her modeled skin.

I perfected my techniques inside, she explained calmly like we were discussing the weather.

The guards let me practice on myself.

I traded commissary items for supplies.

I backed away slowly, but she followed, maintaining the same conversational tone.

Did you know prison blood has unique properties?

All that stress and confinement changes the cellular structure.

My co-workers were starting to return from lunch, filing past us into the building. Ashley waved at them cheerfully, and a few waved back, probably thinking she was just another employee. I finally found my voice and told her to leave. She tilted her head, studying me with her one good eye.

I’m not going anywhere.

We have unfinished business.

That night, I tried explaining everything to Jake again. He was scrolling through his phone while I talked, barely listening.

She found me at work.

She’s been experimenting on herself in prison.

This is serious.

He finally looked up, annoyed.

You’re being paranoid, so she looks rough.

Prison will do that.

Maybe try being supportive instead of judgmental.

I grabbed his phone to make him focus. And that’s when I saw it. A dating app notification from someone named Ash.

My stomach dropped as I opened the message thread. Ashley had been messaging him for weeks, asking about me, pretending to be interested in him. Jake snatched his phone back.

It’s not what it looks like.

She was just asking how you were doing.

She seems genuinely concerned about your friendship.

The next day, my mom called during my lunch break.

The sweetest woman joined our book club.

Ashley’s mother.

Did you know Ashley got her GED in prison and therapy certificates?

She’s really turned her life around.

I tried warning her, explaining what Ashley had done to that baby, but mom cut me off.

People deserve second chances.

Her mother says, “You won’t even return her calls”.

After work, I was watering my plants by the window when movement across the street caught my eye. Ashley was entering the building directly across from mine, checking a mailbox in the lobby. I could see the apartment numbers clearly from my window. 4B. My hands started shaking so badly, I dropped the watering can.

I found the building’s recycling bin the next morning and dug through it until I found what I was looking for. a moving truck receipt dated three days ago. She’d been living across from me for three days and I hadn’t known. The police station smelled like burnt coffee and disappointment. The officer taking my report looked bored as I explained the situation.

Has she threatened you?

Physically assaulted you?

She said, “We have unfinished business”.

She’s stalking me.

He leaned back in his chair.

“Saying you have unfinished business isn’t a threat.

Living across the street isn’t illegal.

Document everything and come back if she escalates”.

I left feeling more helpless than before.

That night, I took a long shower, trying to wash away the feeling of being watched. When I went to clean the drain afterward, it was completely clogged with hair. Way too much hair. I pulled out clump after clump. More than could have possibly come from one shower.

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number, but I knew who it was. The photo showed my coffee cup from that morning’s cafe visit. My lipstick stained was circled in red marker.

No message, just the photo.

Sarah, my best friend since college, met me for yoga that weekend.

She mentioned while we were setting up our mats.

There’s this sweet new girl in class.

She asked about you.

Actually, said you two go way back.

My blood ran cold.

What did she look like?

Honestly, kind of rough.

Said she’d been through some medical issues, but she seemed really interested in meditation and healing.

I spent the rest of class scanning the room, but Ashley wasn’t there. She’d already gotten what she wanted, information about my schedule.

It took me 3 days to track down the Johnson’s. They’d moved two states away after the incident with their baby. When I finally got them on the phone, the fear in their voices was palpable.

She’s out.

Mrs. Johnson’s voice cracked.

Our daughter still has nightmares.

We had to move because people found out what happened.

Mr. Johnson took the phone.

That woman is dangerous.

Whatever she wants from you, don’t give it to her.

We’re considering changing our names.

That night, I found a folded piece of paper slid under my door. It was a page ripped from a journal covered in Ashley’s handwriting.

The title at the top read cellular memory extraction subject N. Below were detailed notes about blood types, extraction methods, and something about memory transfer through plasma. At the bottom were drawings of syringes, each labeled with my name.

My phone rang. Ashley’s mother.

I don’t understand why you’re being so cruel.

she said without preamble.

Ashley paid her debt to society.

She’s trying to make amends, and you won’t even speak to her.

I tried explaining about the stocking, the hair, the photos, but she wouldn’t listen.

She told me you’d say these things.

She said you were always jealous of her transformation.

Jake was making dinner when I got home, acting like everything was normal. I showed him the journal page, the photos, explained about the hair in the drain. He glanced at everything briefly, then went back to chopping vegetables.

Maybe you should talk to someone.

he suggested.

This obsession with Ashley isn’t healthy.

We were interrupted by a knock at the door. Jake opened it before I could stop him. Ashley stood in the hallway holding a container of soup.

I heard you weren’t feeling well.

she said, trying to peer around Jake into the apartment.

I made your favorite, tomato basil.

Jake started to take the container, but I grabbed his arm. The soup had a strange metallic smell, like pennies mixed with herbs. Ashley’s good eye tracked my movement, noting my fear.

It’s a special recipe.

she said with extra iron.

Interesting conversation happening here.

I wonder what they’re really thinking.

After Jake finally got her to leave, we argued. He thought I was being ridiculous, refusing help from someone trying to make amends. I slept on the couch that night, double-checking the locks every hour.

The next morning, I started documenting everything. Photos of every interaction, screenshots of every message, recordings of her standing outside my building. I backed everything up to three different cloud services.

My diligence paid off when Ashley filed a harassment complaint against me. Two officers showed up at my work, escorting me out in front of everyone.

We’ve received a complaint that you’ve been photographing and following a woman named Ashley Chen.

I showed them my evidence explaining the situation. They seemed skeptical until I showed them the security footage from my building of Ashley going through the garbage at 3:00 a.m.

One officer gave me his card.

Keep documenting.

Build your case.

Sarah agreed to meet me for coffee after I told her about the baby incident. Her face went pale as I explained what had happened 5 years ago.

She seemed so normal in yoga class.

A little intense about the meditation, but normal.

That’s what she does, I explained.