I noticed it a week ago.
I’ve been living in the same, mediocre apartment for years at this point, and it’s getting harder than ever to afford, well, anything. The start-up company I joined last month isn’t really doing much starting, and everything has been getting more expensive. Hell, I have to pay an extra dollar for a pack of gum. It’s ridiculous.
So I hope you can understand why my apartment is dirty beyond words. But even if I wanted to clean it, I can’t even afford paper towels, and I don’t think I wanna touch the mold that’s growing on the bottom of the toilet… yeah, I’ll just let it settle there for the time being.
My daily schedule is awfully eventless. I wake up, go to the shit start-up company to “work,” and go home. I don’t really have friends, and my mom went missing three years ago, right before I got my new apartment. My dad? Never met him.
I got so sick of my economic situation last week that I reluctantly started live streaming on a porn site. I mean, I’ve been told that I had a nice body. But that was back in high school in gym class, so I’m not sure how much that applies now. Regardless, I needed any way to scrap together some coins, so I decided to start my new career in porn. Exhilarating.
My first few live streams were… awkward. Viewers randomly popped in and out, and I tried my best to get anyone who was dick-thirsty enough to send me a buck or two, but to no avail. I did get one regular viewer, though. They would always send the weirdest requests, but they felt more like commands than requests. “Stick a chopstick in your dick.” “Lick a plate for me.”
Yeah, no. I was desperate for money, but definitely not to that extent. And after I refused to meet their “request,” they would leave the live stream. Their visits never lasted more than ten minutes, but I ended up anticipating their arrival whenever I started a new stream, wondering what crazy, wacky thing they were gonna throw at me that day.
I started hearing sounds last week. Obnoxious, moaning, and slurping sounds. God, someone was going at it next door or something. And what’s worse is that it always happened when I was trying to sleep. It’s pretty difficult to sleep when your neighbor’s having a fucking orgy.
But the day after the sounds started, I started noticing some really weird things. I literally never clean my dishes, but when I got home from work last Saturday, they were clean. Spotless, crystal-clear clean. I looked under my toilet. No mold. Someone was in my fucking apartment.
I literally stood still in my bathroom for a solid ten minutes. I couldn’t move. I was too scared to. Was there someone right outside my door waiting for me to come out? I never felt this scared in my goddamn life.
I called the police. No idea what else I could’ve done. There was no way I was going outside my bathroom. Soon enough, the police came in and found me sitting like a baby on the toilet. After an hour or so, they said they didn’t see any signs of anyone breaking in or anything like that. The only evidence they had was the clean dishes, the moldless toilet, and a few other things that got magically cleaned.
Trust me, I’m not complaining about getting my apartment cleaned for free, but I’d love it to happen under my own jurisdiction. This was freaky. The police ended up leaving soon after, leaving me alone in the damn apartment.
The day didn’t get much better after that. I was still paranoid: I kept looking behind me, making sure I was the only one in my apartment. Every little noise was a jumpscare.
I ended up getting a dinky little camera from Best Buy and a cheap box cutter to make me feel a little safer with my earnings from live streaming, even though it didn’t amount to much. I set it up on the kitchen countertop, letting it act as a surveillance camera before leaving for work.
I really, really didn’t want to go back home that day. But it’s not like I had anywhere else to go. I couldn’t bring myself to ask any of my coworkers - I knew they didn’t like me - and it was either my bed or the sidewalk. Ended up choosing my bed.
I cautiously opened the door, relieved to see everything in seemingly good order. Nothing really seemed weird or out of the ordinary.
The camera was gone.
I swore that I left it on the countertop, but it wasn’t there. It disappeared.
That same, awful feeling seethed right back in my soul as I shut the door behind me. I bet you’re screaming at me right now: “Get the hell out of there!” I wish I could, but who was I going to call at 10 pm?
So I just ignored it. Pretended like nothing happened. Nope. Never got a camera in the first place. But that night, I decided that I was definitely going to be talking with my coworkers the next day. Hopefully, someone can lend a helping hand. I didn’t live stream that night. Couldn’t bring myself to do it, so I just went to sleep to that same stupid sound.
And then the next morning came. There was a picture of me on the toilet calling the police taped on the ceiling right above my bed.
That was it. That was the last fucking straw.
It was weird: I didn’t notice it the night before when I went back to sleep, which meant…
Oh my god. This apartment is fucking cursed. I got my phone and started to run out of that apartment, but then I heard that same moaning sound again.
My initial thoughts: really? This early in the morning? God, it was 6 am, and sure, I had no right to judge since I was making money from jerking off but come on. But then I noticed the sound felt closer than usual. I tried to track the sound down, ending up at the same countertop I left my camera the other day. Shit, the sound was coming from one of the cabinets.
Was… someone hiding in the cabinets? I grabbed my box cutter and opened the cabinet.
A scrawny woman was hunched up in the small cabinet, licking one of my plates clean, moaning. She looked at me, letting out a blood-curdling scream before jumping at me, tackling me down to the floor and swiping my cutter from my hand, cutting my palm in the process. The woman was spitting all over my shirt. Gross. And ow, that cut went really deep. Then she… ripped my pants off.
“Is that all you wanted? My fucking dick?”
She looked up at me, grinning. Then she looked back down. And sawed my dick off.
No words could explain how much that hurt. I gripped my palms, but that made it hurt even more, since I had that stupid cut in my hand too. My dick just got sawed off. My dick just got sawed off. I kept screaming long after she scurried away out the door on all fours, my blood-covered dick in her hands.
I ended up at the hospital after one of my neighbors called the police. The doctors couldn’t really do anything. They didn’t have my penis, but I don’t remember much - I was unconscious most of the time. I stayed in the same hospital bed for a day or two until they had to let me go: my insurance wasn’t really the best.
I’m back home. Dried blood covered the floor, and the cabinet door was still open. With no energy left in my body, I headed directly toward the bed. Decided to cash out any money I got from the porn site; there was no way I could stream again, after all. Went to the website, logged in, and a pop-up message covered the entire screen. It was from the same person that always tuned in to my streams.
“I GOT YOUR DICK!”