It hasn't stopped the need that fucking lives inside of me. I don't know when it crawled under my skin or how it got there, but it lives inside my veins, and no attempts to bleed it out have been successful. I can't choke it out either, because the girls always get scared of being pinned with murder and give up before I can get what I need from them.
Nothing fucking works.
I'm a junkie, a fucking addict.
And addicts will sink to whatever lows they must to get their next fix. It's why I'm on this site, clicking through the faces as if they're paint samples. I'll be painting my bathroom with their brains, maybe, so it should be easy to pick one.
Except it's not. Because I can't just step into a shadowy alley and choose the first one who walks up to me. The way I do it has to be clean. I don't get to know them, don't hear their name, or know their life story. I don't see their past trauma or their struggles.
But this site? Each photo has a name, an age, and an approximate weight and height. It could be a fucking dating site for all the information they provide, including the girls' hobbies or professions.
How am I supposed to decide who to kill between an elementary school teacher and a social worker? It's fucked, which is why I'm clicking through so rapidly that my computer freezes on the face of a sixteen-year-old who's got her first job as a receptionist at her father's law firm.
Fuck.
Rage simmers deep inside of me at the thought that there are sickos out there who would be happy to see this listing. I’m not happy. And I hate the reminder that I’m really no better than any of the others. I may not be looking for a sex slave, which is apparently what most of the girls here are being marketed for, but I’m looking for a victim… same as every other buyer here.
I slam my mouse down and hang my head in my hands, massaging away the ache in my temples.
I know I should kill myself.
It's the only mercy I can provide to womankind, a mercy they deserve after the injustices I've inflicted on them. But too many people count on me. Taking my own life would be selfish.
I rub my hands over my eyes and enjoy the pressure as I hold them there, taking a second to compose myself. I tell myself I'll pick the next one to come across the screen, that it will be fate.
When I get my computer mouse working again, I navigate to the home page, letting the list refresh with the newest listings.
Maybe because I already decided it was fate, I'm breathless when I see her.
No name, no age or height, or arbitrary numbers. No description.
It's a photo taken from a social media page—they all are. I don't know if that's how the operators of the site find their marks or what, but she's delectable.
I'm not a fucking cannibal, but delectable is the only word that comes to mind when I see her glossy pink lips parted around the neck of a beer bottle. She's dressed modestly, but her dark hair and eyes make her look sultry. There's an edge about her, something I can't quite place but that is undeniably there all the same.
She's absolute fucking perfection.
I double-click on the listing before they can update it with a name. If I'm lucky, I'll never know it.
The crypto has already been bought, so when I tap the buy link with my mouse, the transaction is instant. I watch my balance decrease, and the black box pops up on my computer screen.
The neon letters make me feel dizzy with a mix of euphoria and disgust.
CONGRATULATIONS—PURCHASE COMPLETED.
4
Amber
I simultaneously look forward to sleep and dread it. In sleep, I can escape the fresh hell that has become my life. In sleep, I can pretend that each day doesn't sink me lower into an abyss I'll never crawl out of. I can feel it in my soul; my life is over. I'm not Amber, the failed nursing student, anymore. I'm not the broken but somehow still functional human I was before I was thrown into the back of that truck. Now, I'm just a shell of a human.
As far as the people here are concerned, I'm nothing...lessthan nothing, probably.
I'm a place to dump their cum, a thing to be bought and sold and used, to be molded into whatever they want me to be.
I'm aware, in the small spaces where I am capable of thought, that it could be worse.
I've seen worse with my own eyes.
