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Anger fills me, and in an instant, I’m ready to smash not only my screen but my hard dick. Fucking hell, she’s drugged. I click back over to the original chat and respond, hoping for honesty, but knowing it doesn’t matter one way or the other. I know what I see, and she doesn’thaveto confirm it to solidify my decision.
KillerClown666: Is the filming the only part that was not consensual?
Anonymous:typing…
She types and erases multiple times, dragging out the suspense and irritating me even more. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the answer, especially with her reluctance to tell me. Finally, she responds, giving me just one word.
Anonymous: No.
KillerClown666: What’s his name?
She doesn’t need to tell me. I can figure it out. It will just take more time than I currently have, especially since the video was uploaded using an encrypted browser with a bogus IP address. Not only that, the fucker only posted her face, keeping all of his identifying features out of the shot.
Again, there’s a lengthy pause while I wait for her response. Leaning back in my office chair, the leather creaks beneath my weight. I run a hand through my black hair. My fingers get caught in the strands with a tug. I grimace. My eyes dart to the window. The curtains are blackout and drawn tight. I can just barely make out a peak of sunlight, telling me it’s daytime. Standing, I make my way to the coffee table, shoving aside the stacks of paperwork and books in search of my phone. My hand connects with the device just as an old pizza box clatters to the floor, spilling rotten food across the hardwood.
Fucking hell. How many days has it been since I’ve left here? Or eaten something that’s not trash or taken a shower, for that matter?
Sighing, I go to check the time on my phone but find the piece of shit dead. “Christ,” I mutter. Time to rejoin the land of the living.
Glancing around my filthy office, I cringe.Fuck it.Already regretting my decision, I squeeze my eyes shut and preemptively rub the space between my brows before yanking the curtains open. Sunlight spills into the room, temporarily blinding me and nearly sending me on my ass. It’s then that I realize I’m dizzy and exhausted as shit. I guess the better question is, how long has it been since I’ve slept?
I make my way back to my desk and plug in my phone. Looking up at the screen, I find a few messages from the client.
Anonymous: It doesn’t matter.
Anonymous: I just want the videos taken down, please.
Anonymous: I want to pretend this never happened.
The organ in my chest I thought had long since stopped working, gives a painful squeeze. What the hell? Narrowing my eyes at the chat, I rub the sore spot to eliminate the ache.
Killerclown666: I’ll find out either way. You’re just saving me the trouble of searching.
KillerClown666: The videos are gone. Let me take care of him.
Anonymous: I can’t afford that. I only have enough for the video removal fee.
Christ. She’s worried about money when she was drugged, raped, filmed, and exposed for everyone to see? My opinion of the world and its contents only worsens with the painful reminder. People are shitty, and the economy is trash.
KillerClown666: Don’t worry about the cost.
KillerClown666: Seriously. Tell me his name, and you won’t need to pay for the video removal.
Anonymous: I don’t understand why you’d do that for me.
KillerClown666: It’s not for you. Men like him don’t deserve to get away with shit like this.
KillerClown666: Do it for all the rest of the women he’s probably going to do this to after you…Or the ones before you.
It’s a low blow and borderline manipulative, but I don’t care. My mouth is already salivating for the hunt. My brain begins to work through all the different ways I can ruin a person without even having to leave my office. I may have started off hacking as a way to make money quickly, using a skill I’ve perfected over the years, but this is why I stuck with it. I’ve made millions in the last fifteen years doing this job, but taking down pieces of shit like this one? That’s the real prize.
Anonymous: If you’re sure…Lawrence Jacobs. From Jacksonville, Florida.
Anonymous: What are you going to do to him?
I disconnect the chat, blocking her ability to message me again. I have everything I need. My lips tip up in a smile, causing my cheeks to throb instantly. Apparently, my phone isn’t the only thing that’s gone unused for…
I swipe the screen on my now partly charged phone and check the date and time. “Holy shit,” I grunt. I’ve been holed up here for four and a half days. No wonder I feel disgusting. I’ve barely been eating and only napping at my desk in between jobs. Suffice it to say, I’m a workaholic. As was just demonstrated, I have a hard time saying no to clients and often take on more than necessary.
