~~~
When the door shut behind him, he let out a sigh of relief. He was back in his safe place, surrounded by his parent's things and that familiar smell. He insisted on using the same brand of cleaning products and laundry detergent that they used and cooking the same meals they would cook. He wanted everything as close to how his father left it as possible, and his father had done the same after his mother died only two months before. It was up to him to keep their legacy alive. He would not let their beautiful home fall to ruin or be replaced by some other family.
Most dogs eagerly came to greet their owners when they got home from work, but Dana, his parent's pit bull, didn't move from her favorite position on the couch. She had taken it as hard as he had and was never quite the same. For the first couple of months after his father passed, she would come to the door, jumping and barking, tail wagging, until Martin opened the door, and he could swear a glint of disappointment would flash over those deep shiny eyes, and she would go back to her spot.
He parked himself next to her, moved cushions aside, pulled the coffee table towards himself, and opened his laptop. Dana shuffled slightly and rested her head on his leg. Martin opened a tab and typed in the URL for his favorite gambling website.
The colorful flashing buttons beckoned him with the promise of a dopamine hit, but he thought better of it. He would not blow the money his father had saved years for, on a quick thrill. He had spent so much money already.
He scrolled through pictures of lost pets, and other people's children on his social media with disinterest. A red button sat at the top of the screen with the number 16 next to it. He hadn't read his messages for days. The thought of it made his heart pump madly. Most things seemed to do that these days.
Now he had infinite time on his hands, he set several of his favorite television series to download. He could become immersed in other people's worlds and forget about his life for hours at a time. The website he used to illegally download his shows popped up with banners showing soft-core pornography or the promise to make $100k a year online, and he cursed as he accidentally hit an ad at the bottom of the screen when the page scrolled up, seemingly of its own accord.
A video flashed up on this screen and he tried clicking the little cross in the right-hand corner, but it seemed to jam up. For a guy proficient with IT, he really didn't give a shit about viruses, not on this computer anyway. He used this laptop for gambling, streaming, and downloading, among other things. Once the video started playing, he felt powerless to stop it, and sat there watching like some voyeur.
A man tied to a chair. A dark figure. He wondered what the hell he was looking at as he stared at the screen, waiting for something to happen, but wasn't quite prepared for it when it did. As if Dana sensed his shock, she looked up at him with those dark, shiny eyes with the glistening white around the edges. He paused the video and wrapped his arms around the dog, but Dana got up and wandered to her water bowl. The sound of her lapping tongue traveled from the kitchen.
Martin moved the progress bar across the screen, seeing the whole video in fast-forward, quick enough for the horror of it not to have time to sink in, but slow enough to make out what happened. It had to be fake, he decided, but part of him couldn't shake the feeling it was real.
He pulled up a search engine and tried various combinations of words he could think of to describe what he had just seen. Nothing relevant came up, so he typed in the name of the video, cringing as he typed the words. FATTY MADE TO PAY. The first two websites were cam-sites for big, beautiful woman. The third result was for a forum. He stopped on a post asking if the video was real and clicked on the link. He created an account straight away. Quicky_Mart.
Pickletubs118: Is this real? If it is, that is creepy AF.
Shortstacks: Looks pretty real. I'm convinced.
Pipes1983: I saw this yesterday. Gave me nightmares, and nothing normally gives me nightmares.
Pickletubs118: If anyone is interested, I'm starting a private group, invite only: www.meetnchat365247.com/group839/0010258
I wanna know if this is legitimate and could use your help.
Against his better judgment, Martin asked for an invite, not quite sure what compelled him. Whoever had started the messenger group, accepted his invite almost instantaneously.
Chapter Four
CHICAGO
Kristen checked her cell. 11.36am. No doubt her dad would complain about her being late. He should be grateful she comes to visit him so much. Yes, the divorce must have been hard on him, but he could barely function before they separated, and now, here she was, breakfast supplies in hand... well, brunch now.
She pulled into his driveway, shut off the engine, undid her seatbelt, and took a deep breath. Time to listen to him bad-mouth Abbey all afternoon. It's not as if she hadn't warned him about her. She'd already had two husbands before him. But now her dad was on his second marriage, so he was gaining on her.
With a bag of groceries in hand, she slid out of
