Thread: Internet Killers [	Mr Quixotic & Dovakitten]

RE Internet Killers Very Dark Content For a moment she just watched the screen. Refreshing the page every few seconds only to be crushed to see there was no reply yet. She wasn't entirely sure why she was so eager to get a reply and she reminded herself that whoever it was, wasn't any different from all the other men on this board. They wanted to pretend. They wanted to scare someone, but she wasn't scared. With an empty wine glass in hand, she walked to her kitchen to refill the glass instead of sitting in front of her computer waiting for a reply. She tried to think of something else, planned out how she would go about her next day as she sipped from the glass, but it wasn't long before she was right back in her computer chair. Again she refreshed the page and flicked at the scroll wheel to see another reply from the same guy. Her eyes scanned the screen and she scoffed at his insults before she was slightly unnerved. He was making it very clear that he knew she was a woman despite how hard she'd tried to hide the fact. He even went so far as to make a fairly accurate guess about her orientation. No one had ever caught on until now. But still, it seemed she'd struck a chord with him and that made her think he had a bit of a temper. She always thought an actual murderer would have to be very calm and his temper ruined her fantasy but excited her all at once. She brought her glass to her lips as she continued to read, nearly choking when he guessed that she'd googled the pigs being slaughtered. She cocked her head to one side as she thought about his questions and it wasn't until she read the final line that she realized she was holding her breath so that she inhaled sharply. For a long moment, she sat there, faced with a post the likes of which she had never read. She lifted the glass to her lips before she emptied it in one go, eyes still plastered to the screen. Slowly she reached for her mouse again and clicked not the reply button, but the one that read PM. Subject Pig Squeals Message It sounded awful, but it only piqued my interest. Now I need to hear a human make that sound. I need to know it's real. I need to know you're not full of shit and I still think you are, by the way. I'm here because I'm sick like everyone else on this forum. I'm looking for She paused. The cursor blinking on the page as if it was taunting her to type exactly what it was she was looking for. But she couldn't even be that honest with herself so she certainly wasn't going to be that honest to a stranger. I'm looking for an experience. I want to see a woman tortured slowly. I want to hear the sounds and smell the smells. I want to know what death looks like. I don't want to hear your fantasies that you try to pull off as real. I want to know . Her mouse hovered over the 'Send' button as her heart's thumping made itself noticed and breathing wasn't as controlled as usual. Don't let fear stop you. I don't know where you live. She saw the line of text as if it was in front of her now. He didn't know where she lived, so why was she so apprehensive to send it? She laughed herself for the second time that night. He's not even for real, she told herself and clicked. Your message has been sent. It floated on the screen like an ominous omen until she closed the browser and got up from her chair to go to bed. She told herself that she was going to bed this early because she had to go jogging the next morning before going to work. Truthfully though, she was running away. Frightened that all of her fantasies were about to come true, that a monster she created was soon going to turn on her. If a night's rest could post-pone that for just a few hours, she would take it. The next morning her eyes blinked open before the alarm even went off, but she turned it off anyways and got out of bed. She only washed her face and brushed her teeth before pulling her hair back into a ponytail and putting on a pair of leggings and a sports bra. Her body was toned but without much muscle definition and not without it's curves that were handed down to her by her mother. The sun wasn't even up yet when she walked over to her neightbor's house and knocked on the door. While she waited, she started to stretch, lifting either leg up until her ankle touched her bottom and holding it there before switching to the other side. She knocked again and finally a chubby woman came to the door. Sorry, I had the hardest time getting out of bed. How do you do this every morning, Analise? The brunette just shook her head with a sympathetic smile, even though all she could think was that this woman was wasting her time, Good morning, Whitney. Ready to go, she asked without answering her question. The was simply that Analise wasn't lazy, that she prized her body more than she did a few more minutes of sleep or the taste of the crap that most people were willing to put in their bodies. The answer would have been cruel and the mask that was Analise Helm was not cruel. The pair of them jogged, not quite at a pace Analise was happy with. In fact, she was starting to regret agreeing to help her neighbor get in shape as they had to stop every few minutes for the heavier of the two to catch her breath. Finally, the made it back to their homes, See you tomorrow, Analise chimed but the other didn't respond as she was still trying to catch her breath by the time Analise was inside. She showered and got dressed for work. She wore a black pencil skirt that was almost too tight to be professional with a white blouse and a tailored jacket that dipped in to accentuate her small waist which was enough to implicate her overall hourglass figure. Her long, thick, dark brown hair was pulled into a tight, neat bun that made her almond shaped jade green eyes seem even more catlike. She didn't wear much make-up, just enough to highlight her best features and she didn't even bother covering the smattering of freckles just below her eyes. She was just a bit above average height for a woman but her heels made her stand at six feet and she quite liked feeling that tall. Her day consisted of translating at the local police department. The FBI was interviewing a suspected member of a Korean crime syndicate that appeared not to understand English. While Analise realized this was a lie because he was able to respond without hearing her entire translation, she didn't bring it to their attention as it wouldn't have made him anymore likely to 'talk.' After that, she managed to make it to her class on time. She gave an hour long lecture on the importance of syntax that seemed to bore the vast majority of the students despite how excited she was about it. The rest of her day was spent in her office on campus as she worked on her dissertation until there was hardly anyone on campus anymore. Kicking off her shoes the moment she came home, she tossed her keys on the small table beside the door as she leaned forward to pick up her shoes by their heels and shut the door behind her. Normally, she wouldn't bother to lock her door. She lived in a nice neighborhood that was far from the inner city so she usually felt safe, but tonight she paused a moment before turning to lock it. Immediately, she turned on the news and turned it up loud enough to hear while she was in her bedroom undressing only to slip into an over sized band t-shirt with holes in it. She meandered into the kitchen to fill a glass kettle with water and set on the burner as she untwirled her hair from it's bun so it hung to one side of her shoulder. Rather than watch the kettle she returned to the living room to sit in front of her computer, chewing her lower lip as she logged into the forums to see if there was a message waiting for her.