It was always just us, growing up.
We lived in a small apartment outside of the strip, and it was—perfect. I had a normal life and a warm home filled with laughter and love, but everything I had was gone in an instant when they died. My parents had no living will. The moment they left this earth, I had no money, no home, no family, nothing. I ended up in a homelessshelter after being tossed around to foster families for a year, until I turned nineteen and they could legally kick me from the program, and that’s when I metAnita.
Anita Varley volunteered at the homeless shelter, helping girls in similar situations findemployment. She got me a “once in a lifetime” audition for an exotic dancer spot at a local club called Dollies. Anita talked up the club and made it sound respectable. It sounded too good to be true, but I was so young and hungry I didn’t care to see the red flags.
The club's owners loved that I was nineteen—“fresh,” as they called it—and hired me on the spot. Anita set me up in a one-bedroom apartment that her “cousin” Jeff owned. Jeff just so happened to be a partner at the club and told me my rent would be deducted from my club check to make it easy on me. It wasn’t until later, when I tried to leave for the first time, that I realized I had been sex trafficked, and Anita wasn’t my friend, or someone just looking out for me; she sold me to men for a check and left me there.
It was a big scheme I fell for, and I spent ten years clawing my way out of it.
Auditioning at Dollies was a colossal mistake, in hindsight, but it fueled my desire to do better for myself. When I landed my corporate job, I finally felt like I was getting somewhere—but a measly four years later? I was wiping blood from my mouth, and stuck in another shit situation because I couldn’t see the glaring red flags in front of me.
Greg tried to make my life a living hell, and he succeeded for a while. I felt so alone, more alone than I had ever been. When I worked at Dollies, at least I had the other girls at the club to talk to, but Greg turned everyone I knew at the time against me. He fed them lies about me and broke off relationships with anyone I was remotely close to to keep me locked up.
I didn’t have anyone anymore. I was desperate for human interaction, so I decided to try the only place I knew Greg wouldn’t find me and ruin it.
The internet.
On a random night, after Greg threw a fit over dinner being served too late, I locked myself in our room and pulled out my phone, typing “Apps to talk to people?” into the App Store search bar, then downloaded the firstone that popped up. It’s a social media app called VidTok, where people make funny videos and skits. I spent hours on the app, chuckling at the funny videos on my feed. It was a relief to know that I could still laugh, or at least cope with what I had going on.
But one day, while doom-scrolling, I came across an account advertising a dark romance book about two serial killers falling in love and killing together. I instantly became obsessed after reading it and downloaded thirty more dark romance books that night. These books were my lifeline back to reality. Book after book, I read stories of women in shit situations like mine, and each time, they got back up. They did so on their own, reclaiming their power.
I wanted to get back up.
That night, my first book, Vera’s Vengeance, was born. I had no background in English or writing, but I knew I wanted to write a story that would make women proud. I discreetly signed up for online writing classes and started writing my book. After researching how to publish my book, I discovered I could self-publish, all without Greg's knowledge.
I created a pen name, Luna Stirling. Luna, for my father; he used to call me “Mica mea luna”, which means “My little moon" in Romanian, and Stirling was my mother's maiden name. I set up my author account soon after and began formatting and writing the book in four months. I marketed the book on VidTok, which exploded overnight. Vera’s Vengeance was an instant hit with dark romance readers, and I made enough money to escape Greg secretly. I left in the middle of the night with a small bag of essentials, got on a plane, and flew across the country to Boston.
It’s been several months since I left him, and I haven't heard from him. I thought moving to a big city, with a new name, would be the best option for hiding from your abusive ex, and it seems to have worked. I wasn’t too worried he would try to find or come after me, though.
Greg was broke when I left him; his gambling addiction spiraled out of control, and the company we worked for went under over a bad deal he made. He blamed me, saying it’s because I’m a plague, and I infected him. He was so drunk, I don’t think he was in his right mind anymore. I had to leave before it got worse, before he killed me.
Greg has likely moved on to another girl, another victim, and it breaksmy heart every time I think about it.
Sally, my therapist, has told me that I should let go of that guilt because it’s not mine to carry, but the dark parts of my brain won’t let me. Some poor, defenseless woman will suffer at Greg's hands because I’m too weak to do anything about it.
Too weak to go to the cops.
Too weak to fight back.
I leave the bathroom, feeling sick, and I no longer want to look at myself. When I lie down, silent tears hit my pillow, and I wipe them, trying to calm myself. “Tomorrow is a new day,” I say, wiping the last tears away. “Greg was just another guy, but I’m Luna, fucking, Stirling. I get back up and push on. It’s all I’ve ever done, and I’m not about to fall to pieces now.” I sniff, shifting on my side, settling into my bed, my eyes growing heavy now that my sleeping pills are kicking in.
If I give up now, I know there will be no turning back—but I’m so tired.
So very tired.
Luna
Ipush the blend button on my bender and turn to find Binx patiently waiting for me to fill his food bowl. “Hello, sweet boy. Did you sleep well?” I ask as I pop open a can of cat food for him. I pour his food into his bowl and pet him along his back.
Binx is a fluffy, long-haired, all-black, green-eyed cat I found outside my apartment when I first moved in. In my book, Vera’s Vengeance, I wrote that Vera has a cat just like Binx, down to the green eyes. I took it as a sign that I needed a companion, and Binx was more than happy to move in with me.
He’s a pretty chill cat and spends most of his time sleeping on the window bed I got him, or next to my pillow on my bed. He’s not the biggest cuddler yet, but we’ve only known each other for a short time, so I can’t expect him to be, but Binx is precisely what I need right now—a distraction. Taking care of him has been my sole focus, but that changes today.
This morning, when I woke up, I signed up for a membership at a gym near my apartment, and after finishing my yogurt bowl, that’s where I’m headed. I need to get out some built-up aggression, and the only healthy way I know how to do that is by murdering people in my books or going to the gym and running it out.
I’ve already done number one, so I’ll give the second option a go.
I open my phone and immediately get a notification from my news app. The title of it reads, ‘Notorious Pedophile Edward Slithers Presumed Dead.’ I scoff and shovel more yogurt into my mouth, “Good riddance. The world is better off without you, old, nasty fucks.”
