Page 4 of Ronan
This is why he’s my friend, he’s just as fucked up as I am. And just as loyal.
“Alright, I’ll film it tonight. I’ll ask them to leave the most feral comment and leave it open until I pick my winner.”
Orion nods, tilting his head a little. “What are you gonna do if she doesn’t bite?”
Break into her house and bite for her. Finally snap and kidnap her so I can keep her in my basement. “I’ll need you to get her friend to talk her into it without them knowing that’s what you’re doing.”
The smile on his face is borderline criminal. “You may be the most manipulative motherfucker I’ve ever met, but I’ve learned a lot from you. Ask and you shall receive.”
“Good boy,” I tease, dodging his fist when it flies for my shoulder. “Go fuck your crazy chick before she burns down your house. It’s attached to mine.”
He flicks me a quick salute, then backs up far enough that I can’t reach him anymore. “Have fun tugging it to thoughts of your sister.”
I chase him out the door and then lock up behind him, my mind racing as I disappear into the basement and set up my camera.
Filming these videos is actually the easy part. I just have to drop down and do about fifty sit-ups so my muscles pop, and then stand there with my shirt off. I already havethe lighting down here perfect for filming, and after I grab one of my skull masks and toss on my sunglasses, I do exactly that.
The hard part of filming these videos is usually the caption, but now that I have enough followers to omit the hashtags I just have to make sure I use words and phrases that will catch fire.
Good thing the word “contest” is always one of them. I just have to hope she actually bites.
3
Sometimes I really wonder what’s wrong with people. I knew customer service was tough, but I accepted my current job because it wouldn’t require me to talk on the phone. The only way to reach us is online through a chat bot. Easy, right?
Wrong.
What most people don’t know is that we can see what they’re typing before they hit send. It’s supposed to help us get an inkling of what they need so we can get answers faster, but in my experience, it only gives us a glimpse into the horrible things people would say if they weren’t afraid of the consequences.
It would hurt my feelings if I had any.
After four hours ofnearlybeing called just about every name in the book, I stop to takea lunch break. Even though people are terrible creatures, I get to work from home, so I get up from my desk in the corner of our living room, grab a snack, and plop down on our sectional to take part in my favorite hobby.
I bet Nocturno, Nightbreed, and my favorite Ghost cosplayer wouldn’t call me a vapid cunt. A dirty little slut, maybe. A cocksleeve, absolutely. A good little whore... hopefully. But not a vapid cunt.
I’m alternating between Wheat Thins and scrolling thirst traps when I see it. It’s Nightbreed, but not his normal kind of video. This one’s different. This one is calling for action, and has a pretty big prize to back it up.
One thirty-minute FaceTime call in exchange for the most unhinged thirst comment. I could win that hands down, but I can’t. Ican’t.I’m too embarrassed to even like their videos, let alone comment. How would I handle it if one of them called me?
Fuck. But if I don’t, someone else will, and they’ll be living my dream for thirty straight minutes. Fucking hell.
I sit here so long arguing with myself about it that my alarm goes off telling me it’s time to go back to work. So whoever winswill have the best thirty minutes of their lives while I just wasted thirty minutes of my own. I need to go outside, meet people, maybe touch a little grass. This is getting out of hand.
But every moment that passes after that makes our apartment feel a little smaller, a little quieter except for the pipes banging and old wood settling. It’s almost as though our decrepit, run-down building is trying to remind me that if I don’t get over my social anxiety soon, I’ll be forced to adopt fifty dogs and live on a farm somewhere until the pigs eat my body.
... okay, maybe it’s not that serious. It may just be a thirst trap online, but to me, it feels like a metaphor for my entire life. If I’m too scared to jump, I’ll be trapped in this shitty apartment watching everyone else move on without me.
I really need to grow some balls.
––––––––
“Did you see it?” Emma asks, dropping her lunch box on the table and kicking off her shoes. “Tell me you saw it.”
Ugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She looks at me like she knows I’m lying, but waves me off to go pee before she says anything else. When she comes back, I recognize the look on her face. “The fucking sink in the bathroom is fucked up again.”
“Mmhm.”
