Page 14 of Ruin My Life
And just like the police said—there’s nothing useful. No clear shots of their faces. No clear identifiers. Just two monsters in devil masks moving like ghosts through my house.
My mouse hovers over an icon in the corner of my desktop.
R.O.S.E.—Rapid Observation Surveillance Engine.
It was my final project this year. While everyone else made social networks or video games, I built a tool to help find missing people in real-time—designed to scan street cameras, CCTV footage, commercial feeds.
The idea was simple: upload a photo, and it would crawl the network and find that person in seconds.
Of course, the version I submitted for class had restrictions. A lack of permissions.
But the prototype version on my laptop does not.
This one has full police-level access. Courtesy of…less-than-legalmethods.
My professor called it“brilliant but dangerous.”Gave me a B because he claimed it was too reckless—toopowerfulof a tool should it fall into the wrong hands.
Maybe he was right. Maybe that’s thepoint.
Maybe it’s timeR.O.S.E.fell into the wrong hands.
Mine.
If I use it now, I’ll be hacking into the police database. I could be arrested just forowningthis version of the program, let alone using it the way I plan to.
But rape is illegal.
Murder is illegal.
And those bastards are still walking free.
I chew the corner of my thumbnail, my mind ping-ponging between logic and rage.
Don’t do it.
Do it.
You can’t risk it—
But you can’t affordnotto.
“Fuck it,” I mutter, and double-click the icon.
The interface boots, and the fans in my laptop ramp up to a soft hum. I type in the date, timestamp, and the zip code for Mick’s Convenience, and the feed loads immediately, pulling footage from every external camera the second Dad and I pulled into the lot.
Their hoods do what they were meant to and conceal everything that could quantify as identifiable. They move like they knew where every camera was, dipping their chins just right, staying out of view.
They’re clever. Careful.
R.O.S.E. was built for facial recognition. Without a clean face shot, I can’t use its full power. But in theory, it can trace other identifying features.
Like license plates, and the make and model of a car.
Or atattoo…
From the security footage, I manage to get a decent shot of the lean guy with the partial tattoo—wings stretching from his sternum toward his collarbones.
I crop the image, enhance it as best I can, and feed it into the system.
