[The email was daunting from the beginning...I mean who even
sends emails outside of work? Most people annoyed me from the
social media sites they had me relucatantly join.
So the mere fact that this venue of contact was via gmail had
me unsettled. But that was nothing....the email read "X will kill
him. X demands are simple. X has sent an envelope to your
house. Inside is an Monero address. Send $500,000 of Monero to
that address and he will be released by sunset. If you don't, X
will remove his genitals and hang him by his feet so he bleeds
out as slowly as possible. X is not fucking around." I didn't bat an
eye as I deleted the email. The audacity of people these days
astounded me. Sure, i had heard of catfishing and youtube
personalities getting swatted but this was just excessive................
I woke up totally oblivious to my surroundings, as xanax is apt to
do. All my friends apparently left and I'm sure I walked them out
but myhead was ripe with amnesia. I checked my IG, responded
to a few comments about my San Luisbisbo trip, and hit the call
log....two missed calls from Lea..fuck, I had promised to help her
edit her headshots...whatever, if she could do herself, she wouldn't
have to wait. Opening my messages folder suddenly voided the
alprazolam in my system. The screen contained three of the same
messages in a row from an unknown number with the preview
"YOU FUCKED UP". Adrenalin shot through my veins...It was easy
to rip my email off of social media..shit my Linked In even..but I
make it a point to keep my personal cell detached from those
accounts. Whoever this was had now put an unhealthy amount
of effort into trolling me...I had to open it.
The text read the same...but the image of blood running down
a hanging mutilated body with a crimson face that looked
identical to mine made my breathing spike. The picture had
excellent resolution..with slight editing that only a professional
would admire..a professional like me. I opened the other two
messages and they were all the same. Logic and reason
guaranteed that the photo was fake, but my decade of photo
editing experience saw no artifacts and no warped dimensions.
Plus, I knew there were no candids of me with blood dripping
down my face....I was stricken. Staring at it for 30 minutes didn't
help...nor an hour...and on the hour I decided to set aside to get
a fresh perspective, my phone vibrated. The message lacked an
attachment and read "Even as we cut into your ballsack, you
didn't confess your private key. You just kept screaming that it
was in an encrypted folder on your hard drive and it was
impossible to memorize. But X knows your address now.......
and your mom's name...and your girlfriend's bra size. X would
prefer you just send the Monero.".......................I vomitted.
