Page 11 of Shameful Addictions

“WOW I didnt know this,” read one.

Another: “I think I’ve heard of this guy. I had no idea he was so pervy. Thanks, Triple L, for always watching out for us.”

Another page refresh showed now tens, dozens of comments flooding in. The like counter on her video ticked up rapidly, and her logistics page showed her it was being shared to at least three other platforms at that point.

She didn’t want to watch anymore. She’d done what she knew she should and the truth was out there.

Charlotte logged off the computer. She stood up and gathered up her purse.

One of the other workers glanced over in her direction. “That was quick. Lucky. Mine needs quirky special effects every few seconds or he looks insane.”

They thought she was another editor, didn’t recognize her as the diamond play button-star she was. Her heart lodged in her throat. They’d remember her tomorrow, though. When Damian came asking.

“I just had to clean up the ending,” she said.

“Lucky,” the other worker repeated. They went back to looking down at their computer.

Clutching her purse tightly to her side, Charlotte hurried to get out of there before she attracted any more attention to herself.

Chapter five

You're nothing

Hereyespoppedopenand she sat up with a cry of anguish lodged in her throat. Her breasts heaved under her cream nightgown, a demure shift that went right down to her knees. Charlotte drew up her legs to her chest, compressing her breasts so she felt her nipples through the fabric. She hugged herself and tried to catch her breath, darting glances around the room.

Golden morning sunlight spilled through the drawn curtains, turning them from soft lavender to amber. The glow spread far across her small, tidy bedroom, chasing the shadows back to the corners. And to behind the closet door, under the bed, where children believed monsters lived.

Charlotte untangled herself from her sheets and crept over to the edge of her bed on her hands and knees. She bent over and peered into the gap underneath, searching for the creature that had haunted her dreams the whole night. Shadows coiled beneath the bed, sinuous, snakelike, so that for a moment she gasped and flinched, expecting fangs to dart out of the darkness and slice into her throat. She could even picture the blank, ebony eyes, locked onto her, seeing her for the prey she was.

She backed away from the bed and lifted her head, blood rushing away from her face. The change in position left her dizzy. She shook her head to clear it, trying to dislodge the impossible nothing from her mind.

You are being childish, Charlotte,she scolded herself.There is nothing under there. And if there is, it’s a mouse. At worst, a rat. Or a freaking garden snake. Someone’s escaped pet. But more than likely, there’s nothing under there.

She put her knuckles to her lips, pressing hard enough to mash them painfully to her teeth. Swallowing hard, she bent over for another look. This time, as she descended, she realized how sexual of a position it was to be on all fours with her ass in the air. She was asking for some masked intruder to come in and jump on her.

Another ridiculous notion, but she was full of them that morning.

Charlotte flattened herself out so she lay on her stomach. Even that didn’t feel quite right, so she grabbed her blankets and tossed them over her lower half.

Better.

She no longer had anything to distract her from what she was meant to be doing. Charlotte thrust her head down the side of the bed and peered upside-down into the shadows.

With the light in the room strengthening, the shadows were pushed back further, gray and faint against the wall. What she had mistaken for a reptile’s eye was nothing more than a balled sock. Dust bunnies and cobwebs clung to the wall. Unthreatening. Benign. Everything was as it should have been.

Charlotte rolled out of bed onto the floor and fished the sock out from under the bed. It had been purple once–purple was her favorite color and she tried to incorporate it into every outfit–though a thick and fuzzy coat of dust obscured much of the fabric. “Ugh,” she said, disgusted, and tossed the sock into a little trash bin she kept in the corner of the room. She regretted it as soon as she did. Little tufts of dust blew off the sock and floated around the room, glowing like jewels in the morning light.

“Ugh,” she said again. She stood up, dusting off her hands. Filth bothered her. Filth of all kinds.

That brought her back to what she had done last night and what was no doubt the reason for her terrifying dreams.

Anxiety knotted her stomach. She put her hands over her middle and rubbed herself, stroking in circles to soothe her worry. There was nothing to be done for it now. She’d have to live with what she’d done.

“No point going in to work,” she said aloud, tasting the words. They tasted of defeat. She tried again. “I did what I had to. It cost me my job, so there’s no point in going to work.”

That felt a little bit better. She couldn’t sit passively by. She had to take actions, even if those actions were small.

What did martyrs do after they had martyred themselves? The ones who hadn’t yet died for their cause, that was.

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