As I’m pushing my door into my room, a swift gust of wind hits my face, and the smell of fresh lavender enters my nose while stepping into my room. The clean marble floor slaps my feet while I take steps towards my desk getting ready for another session of dark web scrolling. I let out an exaggerated sigh as my hands grab the chairs black handles. Carefully sitting down, I fix my posture and straighten the glass polar bear sitting on my desk to face my monitor for my ritualistic tendencies. I fire up my computer and type in the link to my favourite dark web site. I keep a neat folder of all the sites I frequently visit in my spare time. To catch a predator.onion is my favourite by far. Some guy made this site a few months back so that people can stream the bodycams of officers while doing raids on these idiots. Seeing the terrified look of predators realizing their life has ended because of their stupidity in being caught makes me giggle. It’s entertainment for me if I’m being honest.
My eyes glaze over the screen of my clean monitor. The words on my screen reflect off my glasses as I intensely stare off trying to entertain myself with endless raids to watch. Scrolling mindlessly, I find myself intrigued to a specific thumbnail. I squint my eyes and I lead my index finger onto the left mouse button. The blood in my finger compresses as it clicks, bringing me into the live feed I’ve been patiently waiting to watch for all day. I glance down at the cold glass of water with 4 ice cubes in it. Just the way I like it. I direct my hand to the glass, grab the refreshment and slowly bring it to my lips as the cold water guides itself down my throat. I exhale, compose myself, and bring my focus back onto the raid that’s about to take place. I wonder to myself “I wonder who gets caught this time” as my eyes lead me to my second monitor with a list of names of people who have bought child pornography from my alternate web account. Frank? Jimmy? Elijah? Ezra? I question myself trying to determine who the most irresponsible buyer with the purchase was.
One of the officers in the live stream steals my attention away and makes me focus on him like a kid seeing a man of a different race for the first time. “Welp, this guy is unusually far out from the rest.” Impatiently says one of the raid officers. But what catches my attention is how he can leave his home with his brown mustache uncombed. This man does not seem to take care of his self-image.
The tall buildings tower the 3 police cruisers like a child trying to get passed the bathroom line at the local swimming pool. “How far along do you think until we get to this creep?” urgently asks one of the officers that goes by the name of Theo. His sergeant calmy responds “10 minutes out”.
At the response to the question, I substitute the tab of the live stream for the documents I need to arrange as I have the short time to do so before the raid begins. I sort out my files with the names registered as 4-6, 6-10, 10-12 12-16. I drag them over to a secure enough file to hold them for the night. Organization is key.
I tap back into the stream to notice that this raid is happening in my city because of some road signs somewhat near the restaurant I like to visit. I smirk at the excitement this is bringing to me. I just have a feeling this is going to be someone that I know. Streetlights illuminate the dash and faces of the officers as they speed down the road. I adjust myself in my seat, the fabric of my pants grind against the chair slightly pulling them down. I stand up to adjust my pants as well. As I look back towards my screen a street name I recognize comes into view. “Michigan Road”. Oh, wow this guy lives decently close to me. “Great minds think alike” I say to myself in the emptiness of my room. I continue watching the live feed until the sounds of sirens coming from my monitor fades into my room through my crank opening window as it’s slightly cracked open. I like the feeling of warm wind caressing my face. I turn around to face the distressing sounds of sirens racing through the streets as pedestrians gasp out of shock. My monitor brings me back to focus as readjust myself to straighten my crinkled back.
“30 seconds out” yells the officer into his chest strapped walkie talkie. I prepare myself for the excitement with what’s about to be taken place in just a few moments. I lift the sleeves of my dark green turtleneck as I gave way to scratching the itch that is so desperately being begged to be taken away.
Just finishing scratching my itchy arm, I dig my nails too deep and dark red blood seeps out of my pale white skin at the sight of the officers turning onto my road. The sirens get louder, my heart beats faster. A cold sweat breaks out on my upper lip. How can they have found out? I don’t understand. I’ve been so careful. I quickly spin myself around in my chair to hold sights on the window which now has bright red and blue lights protruding into my soulless and empty room. The edge of my chair hit the glass polar bear as it hits the floor and shatters next to my foot causing my foot to sulk in pain. A puddle of blood slowly begins to form around my foot as I uncontrollably keep tapping my foot into the ground because of my nervosity. At the same time, the sound of the officer’s boots hitting the pavement and shotgun choking, pistol loading. Officers yell as my door starts being hit by a battering ram. I quickly stand up as officers breach through the front door, I reach for the nightstand handle with my quivering hand. The sight of a standard issue 1911 pistol meets my eyes. I urgently grab hold of the pistol and frantically turn around to point the weapon towards my room door. Officers rush up the stairs with their boots loudly banging against my wooden steps. I hear whispering coming from the other side of the door as blood drips from my arm into the blood puddle already formed around my foot. I keep the gun straight while pointing it towards the door waiting for officers to burst in any second. I calm myself down. My heartbeat slows as my hand directs the gun towards my head. With my finger twitching over the cold trigger. I fire the chamber. “CLICK”. But the gun jams.