Three nights, gone, wasted away in double-time, panning for the right thing to say like a gold prospector, as in process of elimination. Not that it was fun in a way where time grows wings and sweeps you away. More like how, when you\u2019re defusing a bomb, the breath between one second and the next disappears until the timer\u2019s just licking its thumb and skimming through numbers.<\/p>\n
This is what I need: one word, one sentence, one set of sharp clippers to the right color. She\u2019ll see me, hands two inches from the detonator for her, and everything on her side of the screen will be real. Then, I don\u2019t know. The thought gets away from me. She reaches through the screen and clambers into my lap like a less jailbait-y version of that girl from The Ring<\/em>.<\/p>\n Cursor over the phone icon. When I hit dial, I\u2019m colorblind as I\u2019ve always been.<\/p>\n May answers, eyes red and puffy, makeup streaked down her cheeks. I see her grief and I\u2019m breaking dishes on the floor, tearing out the drywall, fully apeshit.<\/p>\n She flexes her cheeks to smile. Her eye bags bulge. \u201cHerk.\u201d<\/p>\n Some screen names are true screen names, meaning you can\u2019t read them out loud without cringing at the sound. I never used my real name because it never came up, and I grew up during the heyday of stranger danger alarmism. And then she was the only person who ever called me that, like, with her mouth, and it opened up a pocket universe where we could disappear together. My real name doesn\u2019t do us justice. I\u2019m something else when I\u2019m hers.<\/p>\n My reflection in the screen lays neat over her, and my shirt is dark enough to contrast each and every crumb built up around the collar. And listen, I\u2019m a guy who cares about his hygiene, but dropping off my laundry upstairs always entails another argument with my mom, and I couldn\u2019t risk a distraction.<\/p>\n \u201cYou look really beautiful today,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n \u201cDude. I look busted.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s okay. Nothing I haven\u2019t seen before. You\u2019re still really pretty.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c\u2026 thanks.\u201d<\/p>\n She worries at her lips, purses them, turns her face to the ground. She\u2019s not usually this fidgety. Today is the only day she\u2019d let someone see her like this\u2013unkempt, vulnerable\u2013and I\u2019m the only person she feels safe enough to show.<\/p>\n I met her as a client to the tune of 3 figures a month, and I fell in love with her as a chat moderator, where we called it reasonable for my payment to be a free subscription. We keep a professional distance because we\u2019re both career-driven like that. She doesn\u2019t really respond to my messages unless it\u2019s complaints, updates, or ban logs, and if she was somebody else, it would read as distaste. But she\u2019s good at saying things without saying them. She bats her eyelashes, she covers her laugh with her manicured nails, and we soak up the hungry, itching implication of something more.<\/p>\n Think about it like she\u2019s some big movie star and I\u2019m the bodyguard in the background of her red-carpet photos and nobody knows who I am until I make headlines for stopping a kidnapping or assassination attempt or whatever. While she does her thing, I man the trenches, digging through thousands of usernames, weeding out every failed abortion who even thinks about her wrong. And we stand ten feet apart because our contracts say to, but when we lock eyes, our spirits are chest to chest.<\/p>\n \u201cSooooo\u2026 how are you feeling?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNervous. Which is like, duh, of course I\u2019m nervous, but, y\u2019know, I\u2019m nervous.\u201d<\/p>\n A quick \u2018welcome back\u2019 to the pit in my stomach and it\u2019s on with Operation May.<\/p>\n \u201cI mean, it\u2019s\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a big deal, I know,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n That\u2019s not what I was gonna say. I had in mind something like, it\u2019s okay to change your mind. Even if somebody\u2019s got a gun to your head and they\u2019re threatening to kill your family, I can keep you safe if you change your mind.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, yeah, it\u2019s definitely a big deal.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s kinda like a rite of passage. Like my pornstar bar mitzvah.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA rite of passage?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, you know, passage to the \u2018other side\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n I want her to think she\u2019s funny. I try to laugh and wheeze instead.<\/p>\n She continues, \u201cbut yeah, a lot of people I knew did it. Really, it\u2019s a good thing. Means I\u2019ve reached the height of where I can go with all of this.\u201d<\/p>\n She gestures vaguely to the room around her\u2013everything is pink, including her, including the parts of her she\u2019s not showing me right now. She\u2019s got a pile of stuffed animals taking up more space on the bed than she ever could. Her furniture is custom ordered, and you won\u2019t believe what color it is. A few accents, the canopy\u2019s lace trim, are secretly white, but the LEDs mask it.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen you put it like that, you\u2019re essentially getting punished for succeeding,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n I don\u2019t think the LEDs could make it look pretty if she follows through. The cops, not known for their delicacy, would just drag her body out, piss and shit and all, and there\u2019s no hiding the stain she\u2019d leave on her bedside rug.<\/p>\n She shakes her head empathically. \u201cThat\u2019s only if you think about it like a punishment. I don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, the death penalty exists for a reason.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd the death penalty is super fucked up! What does that even have to do with anything anyways? Are you\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019m not mad at her for yelling. The way she\u2019s feeling, the hormonal warp-drive, the last thing I want is her directing it inwards, so, in a way where I\u2019m still not happy she\u2019s yelling at me, I\u2019m relieved I\u2019m the one receiving it. And she\u2019s lucky I\u2019m collected enough to handle it.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry if you\u2019re feeling upset, hun. I\u2019m here for you, I know this is really hard for you.\u201d<\/p>\n She sniffles, wipes her nose with the back of her hand.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah. It\u2019s, uh\u2026 it\u2019s rough.\u201d<\/p>\n Hearing the tremble in her voice, my heart breaks, kept functional by my stoicism. She\u2019s begging me in her own way to help her out of the mess she\u2019s made, and I\u2019m always there for a woman in distress.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know how they\u2019re gonna do it?\u201d The words are chalk between my teeth.<\/p>\n \u201cThey said it\u2019s not actually snuff if I know. But also like who is checking for that, right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIsn\u2019t that kind of scary, not knowing?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t think so. The worst part of pain is anticipating it for me, and this way, I don\u2019t have anything to anticipate.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut you said you\u2019re nervous. About the pain?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m trying not to think about the pain, actually. Whenever I start to think about the pain, I just meditate.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMeditation is a placebo effect.\u201d<\/p>\n She stiffens up.<\/p>\n \u201cThen didn\u2019t you just ruin it by telling me?\u201d<\/p>\n If I keep backing her into a corner, she\u2019ll do what animals in corners do. Freeze up. Fight back. Slip into some recitation about how feminism is actually selling your body to strangers on the internet, the kind of infographics she posts online, the force-fed faux-reactionary dribble coming straight from the big guys running the show. They, the industry executives, they love it when girls fall for that shit. The girls start self-checking their own allegiance to their pimps and the pimps raise a glass.<\/p>\n \u201cI have a question.\u201d<\/p>\n She raises an eyebrow. \u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid you, um, did you have to, like, get your things in order? Like, a will and testament, or whatever?\u201d It\u2019s horrible to say and I\u2019m making it up as I go. Truthfully, I only care about her answer insofar as it can stall her.<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t have to do it if that\u2019s what you\u2019re asking. I also just didn\u2019t do it.\u201d<\/p>\n She comes back to yes or no questions with so much. Maybe she\u2019s also stalling.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI dunno. Didn\u2019t feel like it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, it forces you to confront what\u2019s happening. I can see how that might be difficult for you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I definitely don\u2019t think it\u2019s that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you think it is then?\u201d<\/p>\n She shrugs. \u201cDidn\u2019t feel like it.\u201d<\/p>\n Which is classic, you know, that feminine avoidance. I\u2019m bleeding out chances for her to escape, and she\u2019s wiggling through the gaps, and I\u2019m wondering if love means anything to her. I wouldn\u2019t be surprised if it didn\u2019t, or if she didn\u2019t know what to do with it. Most girls in her work only do it because they got touched as little kids or walked in on their parents. They go into the job with all the love inside them fucked up beyond recognition.<\/p>\n We sit, not in silence. Somebody\u2019s spamming me on Discord, asking why they got banned from our server. I force quit the app and shuffle the garbage around on my desk.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve been reading chat recently. People are upset. They don\u2019t understand why you\u2019re doing this.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho is people?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cChat.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh,\u201d she says, mirroring me, playing with something on her desk. \u201cDamn, I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy are you sorry?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cModding must be a pain in the ass right now.<\/p>\n I don\u2019t know why the point fumbles the landing so hard. Her last day on earth and she\u2019s taking time to pity me of all people.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not about that. I just thought you\u2019d want to know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy would I want to know?\u201d<\/p>\n Whatever she was holding clatters.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause it\u2019s important to know how they feel.\u201d<\/p>\n She huffs. \u201cI\u2019ve seen chat too, you know. A lot of people are actually excited for me. And even if they weren\u2019t, they\u2019re really not involved in this. I wouldn\u2019t make this decision just for other people, m\u2019kay?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know, don\u2019t take it like that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow else am I supposed to take it?\u201d<\/p>\n She\u2019s getting evil with her tone. I take a breath, reset, remember her feelings control her more than she controls them, particularly right now.<\/p>\n In all honesty, I do want her to take it like that, though. I know how much this involves her fans. This is a career decision, and her career is her fans, I mean.<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re loyal to you. They\u2019re lonely men whose entire life revolves around a 20 by 10 screen. I know you can\u2019t imagine what that\u2019s like, neither can I, but can we both rationally consider the aftermath? You\u2026 go away, their screen goes empty, and there\u2019s nothing. They\u2019re cold and empty husks. TLDR; what do you think happens when people don\u2019t have anything left to live for? They kill other people, or themselves.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re saying I\u2019m gonna second-hand murder people if I die.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not not saying that. This isn\u2019t to hurt your feelings, May, but have you thought about that in any capacity?\u201d<\/p>\n She picks at the trinkets next to her monitor. I spin around in my chair. The pink light casting off my monitor wraps around the human-shaped pile of clothes on my bed. The swimsuit Hatsune Miku on the wall is a different shade of pink too. Everything\u2019s fucking pink and everything\u2019s fucking May and cards are hitting the table left and right and she\u2019s fucking aloof. I spin back around.<\/p>\n \u201cDoes your family know?\u201d<\/p>\n She stares, eyes centerless, at her keyboard just to avoid looking at me. She knows I\u2019m here to change her mind, there\u2019s not a woman in the world dumb enough to think otherwise, and now she can\u2019t bring herself to face me. Like my face gets her heartsick the way hers gets me. Beyond heartsick, actually. Some things are just fated, I\u2019ll admit that as an atheist. This is about, like, cosmic balance or something. This is so much bigger than us. Than sex.<\/p>\n It\u2019s massive and only getting bigger.<\/p>\n I have to tell her I love her.<\/p>\n Not because she doesn\u2019t know. It\u2019s completely redundant. I have to tell her I love her because she can\u2019t look away from it.<\/p>\n \u201cI need to say something.\u201d<\/p>\n She murmurs some noise as permission.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd I know this will hurt to hear right now, but we have to say it while we still can.\u201d<\/p>\n She\u2019s clicking a pen off the desk.<\/p>\n \u201cMay, are you listening to me? I love you, May.\u201d<\/p>\n She looks up, but not at me.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve loved you for so, so long. You\u2019re my world. And I can\u2019t let you do this without you hearing me say that. I can\u2019t let you go through with it not knowing I love you more than I can physically handle. It hurts me. It wounds me how much I love you.\u201d<\/p>\n She grimaces, and I know she\u2019s really listening. She opens her mouth to say something. The video feed freezes like that for a second.<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t have to say anything. I know how you feel. I know it\u2019s hard for you. It\u2019s hard for me too. Just tell them you can\u2019t do it today, May, just today, and then I\u2019ll take you somewhere they can\u2019t hurt you. I\u2019ll keep you safe.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh God.\u201d She buries her head in her hands. \u201cDon\u2019t say that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI have to. It\u2019s my job to protect you. That\u2019s what we do when we love people. You\u2019ve protected me in your way, now it\u2019s time to let me do the same.\u201d<\/p>\n She shakes her head violently. I can\u2019t make out what she\u2019s saying to herself. If we were in the same room, I\u2019d take her hands in mine, wipe away her tears, hold her against me with all my strength. I\u2019d let her cry as long as she needed. I\u2019d soothe her while she did.<\/p>\n She rakes her fingers through her hair, pushing it behind her shoulders. \u201cListen\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, don\u2019t say anything, just think about what I said. Please.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLet me talk,\u201d she insists. \u201cI\u2026 I appreciate you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI appreciate you too, May. I appreciate everything you\u2019ve done. You\u2019ve worked so hard and played your hand at a career and I appreciate that. I think it\u2019s time for you to be human now. We can be humans together.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI appreciate you,\u201d she repeats through her teeth, \u201cbut we\u2019re not like that. I don\u2019t even know your name, man.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJake, my name is Jake.\u201d<\/p>\n It just comes out of me, this rough and foreign thing.<\/p>\n \u201cJake and May. It\u2019s got a nice ring to it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOkay\u2026 well, Jake, that doesn\u2019t change anything. I still don\u2019t know, you know, like, your favorite movie, your favorite food, what songs make you cry, the important things. I don\u2019t know what makes you laugh. I don\u2019t know what makes you smile.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou make me laugh, May. You make me smile.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d She sits back in her seat. \u201cI make you cum. That\u2019s\u2026 those are whole different worlds. Do you understand how they\u2019re different? You don\u2019t love me; you love what I do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow are those different at all? It still means I love you. And I do love you.. I think about you all the time, and not just about sex. I think about waking up and you in the kitchen and you smiling at me and we eat pancakes or whatever. I think about coming home to you and the baby.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA fucking baby? We\u2019ve never met face to face.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFace to face is overrated, we don\u2019t need that shit anymore. I still know everything about you. I know what perfume you use. Your favorite color is pink. You always put your hair up because you don\u2019t want it in your face. You love kid\u2019s stuff, like the cartoons and stuffed animals.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJake\u2026 this isn\u2019t actually my bedroom. This is what I\u2019m saying, dude, you don\u2019t know anything about me that you learned organically, through a real conversation or by spending time with me. You know what you can see through the webcam and that\u2019s where it ends.\u201d<\/p>\n She stifles a laugh.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd my favorite color is green.\u201d<\/p>\n Hot cheeks, throat lumped and metastasizing to watering eyes. I wipe my face with the collar of my shirt, squeeze shut until neon green specks dot my vision.<\/p>\n \u201cLet me learn.\u201d<\/p>\n I fight the urge to be mean, and the struggle makes my voice weaker than it should be.<\/p>\n \u201cJust give me the fucking chance to learn at least. It\u2019s not fair for you to get mad at me when you never gave me a chance. Of course, I didn\u2019t learn anything about you from a conversation, you didn\u2019t want to talk to me!\u201d<\/p>\n She flinches from the volume, like she\u2019s the victim. I should\u2019ve expected as much.<\/p>\n \u201cChrist, May, I\u2019m not mad at you. I can\u2019t even do anything if I was. I\u2019m just saying, if you gave me the chance, we could have something good. You can\u2019t go and kill yourself before we get to try.\u201d<\/p>\n Her eyes have never been so beady.<\/p>\n \u201cActually, I can do that. That\u2019s what I\u2019m doing.\u201d<\/p>\n Stalemate.<\/p>\n And what am I supposed to do? Somebody has to win, that\u2019s how the world works. When there\u2019s no move left to make, it becomes a game of concession.<\/p>\n I\u2019m tingling or hurting in my hands, like pins and needles, like low circulation bloated.<\/p>\n I can\u2019t just concede. My resolve pools heavy in my stomach, mixes with acid and semi-digested food, comes alive as something caustic and frothing. It dissolves a string inside me, and the string snaps. I snap. I tell her this is stupid, she\u2019s stupid, or like she\u2019s not stupid, Jesus Christ, I didn\u2019t mean you\u2019re stupid, May, you know I didn\u2019t mean that, I mean you\u2019re being stupid right now. She stares at me and blinks. I tell her that I know it seems cruel, and I apologize for that, but I tell her she needs to hear it. Nobody else loves her enough to be blunt. More blinks from her. I keep going, I remind her that, holy shit, you\u2019re doing all this for porn. I tell her she\u2019s not like fucking Joan of Arc or something, this isn\u2019t martyrdom we\u2019re talking about here. This is porn. That she\u2019ll die, and it\u2019s going to be painful, and all it\u2019s gonna be is porn.<\/p>\n When I\u2019m all out of words, she clears her throat and steeples her hands.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you for your concern,\u201d she says. \u201cBut you\u2019re not gonna change my mind.\u201d<\/p>\n The silence comes crashing down like a meteor. I wish it was a meteor instead.<\/p>\n \u201cDid you want me to do something? Anything in my job description?\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019m about to throw up on my monitor. \u201cNo. I just wanted to talk to you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOkay. I\u2019m gonna go be with my family.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis is goodbye, then?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah. Bye, Jake.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n May falls off her chair a couple times during the stream. Just gives up and goes limp and melts down onto the floor, where you can only see glimpses of her behind the live chat, which is superimposed over the video feed\u2019s lower third.<\/p>\n There\u2019s a fishhook in my windpipe the whole time.<\/p>\n It\u2019s more violent than I expected, although I didn\u2019t expect to end up here at all. Both of us in a basement, dying slow. A gun would\u2019ve been merciful. Or a chainsaw.<\/p>\n In the top right-hand corner, there\u2019s a scoreboard for highest donations. The top three users have medals next to their names. They\u2019ve donated a sum $21,042.<\/p>\n The chat unanimously cheers on the enemy. I recognize some of the usernames as frequenters from May\u2019s streams. People send thousands of dollars in single donations so they can pick a weapon and how it\u2019s used. Nobody tries to stop it. Nobody bothers pointing out how fucked up it is. And I\u2019m pulled out by the tide, a faceless username among the swarm.<\/p>\n But I do my best.<\/p>\n The guy with the skull balaclava is ready to swing the sledgehammer again.<\/p>\n I send ten grand for them to stop.<\/p>\n There\u2019s another feature in the stream where any donation over a thousand dollars gets pinned to the top of the chat until supplanted by another donation. So now my message is lording over the chat, where people are already chanting DONT STOP.<\/p>\n He smiles into the camera.<\/p>\n His teeth are the only thing unstained.<\/p>\n He apologizes, says thank you for the money, but I\u2019ve just wasted all those sweet dollars.<\/p>\n He swings.<\/p>\n Everything converges into this moment. This singular frame of the stream; May in the chair; the skull balaclava guy twisted at the hips like he\u2019s playing golf; the sledgehammer making contact with May\u2019s collarbone; my username with a gold medal next to it in the top right-hand corner. And on top of the chat, displayed proudly with a golden banner, \u2018HERCULESHERO sent $10,000: plz stop\u2019.<\/p>\n This is my ten-thousand-dollar failure, and you can immortalize it in a single screenshot.<\/p>\n Somebody does. Get a screenshot, I mean. And because it\u2019s the internet, the screenshot breaches containment before the stream\u2019s over.<\/p>\n Discord messages roll down the side of my monitor. People asking IS THIS U LOL with a series of emojis meant to express contempt. I open the messages and there\u2019s the screenshot, with a red circle around my username. As if the golden banner wasn\u2019t calling enough attention.<\/p>\n Then it\u2019s not just people DMing the screenshot, it\u2019s people DMing links to Reddit posts about it. It\u2019s on r\/NiceGuys, r\/cringe, for some reason it\u2019s on r\/AsianMen with a three-paragraph rant about fast-twitch reflexes and the white male savior complex.<\/p>\n It\u2019s fucking viral.<\/p>\n I brush my teeth, and when I get back, there\u2019s an Atlantic<\/em> article about a Times Square billboard getting hacked. The photo accompanying the article shows hundreds of people, faces turned to the sky, glowing under the screenshot on the billboard.<\/p>\n Another billboard hack in London. Then Tokyo, Dubai, Sydney.<\/p>\n The stream ended thirty minutes ago and ABC News is doing a sit-down interview with the FBI Director about it.<\/p>\n The anchor folds her hands into her lap, cocks her head, and plaintively asks, \u201cHow could this Hercules Hero just let a poor woman die? I mean, even a child would\u2019ve known to send more than ten thousand. Do you think he has an intellectual disorder?\u201d<\/p>\n The FBI Director nods thoughtfully.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know, this whole thing has basically got D.C. stumped. We\u2019ve never seen an individual this repugnant before. Obviously, we can\u2019t give any kind of definitive diagnosis without talking to Jake, but\u2026\u201d he leans forward into his elbows \u201c\u2026 I can say for certain that this is the biggest American tragedy since 9\/11. Maybe ever.\u201d<\/p>\n And then the anchor and the FBI Director start talking in sync with each other, and their voices are the exact same.<\/p>\n \u201cMay was a pretty girl, like fuck was she ever hot. And she wasn\u2019t one of those stuck-up pretty girls who know how pretty they are, May was always humble. She was our Lady Liberty. That\u2019s who died here today. And now that liberty is dead, people shouldn\u2019t be surprised to see a steady decline in\u2026 well, everything. And the bottom line is that this Hercules fellow had one job, and he failed.\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019m watching the broadcast, I guess. I don\u2019t remember putting it on, but I\u2019m watching them swivel their chairs towards the camera. They look into and through the lens, straight at me.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you listening, Jake? Are you listening to us?\u201d<\/p>\n They keep asking, over and over.<\/p>\n My legacy is my ineptitude, international and high-def. All these people know me, and they don\u2019t even know. They know what I couldn\u2019t do.<\/p>\n May is gone.<\/p>\n So, it\u2019s the funerary motions. I take down my posters, shove them into a box, and tuck the box under my bed. Without them, the walls are decorated with unpainted spackle again. I throw my clothes onto the floor, where they meld into other clothes I threw onto the floor before. The smell of cement and dry rot leaches from the walls.<\/p>\n The heat wave does nothing for me. I go to bed wearing a down jacket.<\/p>\n In my dreams, I\u2019m standing over May\u2019s grave, chanting in tongues. Her hands burst through the dirt without fingernails. She clambers forth, all putrefied and still pretty, and it\u2019s awkward the way first meetings are always awkward, when you know somebody in and out, but you\u2019ve never known them in this context, close enough to touch, too scared to speak.<\/p>\n I ask her what I should say. I\u2019m on my knees, clinging to the back of her knees, begging her to tell me. She looks down at me and opens her mouth. Nothing comes out.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" They\u2019re loyal to you. They\u2019re lonely men whose entire life revolves around a 20 by 10 screen. I know you can\u2019t imagine what that\u2019s like, neither can I, but can we both rationally consider the aftermath? You\u2026 go away, their screen goes empty, and there\u2019s nothing. They\u2019re cold and empty husks. What do you think happens when people don\u2019t have anything left to live for? They kill other people, or themselves.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":21207,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-20757","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","writer-max-tate-forest"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20757","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=20757"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20757\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":21208,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20757\/revisions\/21208"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/21207"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=20757"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=20757"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=20757"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}