• Bella Hickman

Extremely Broke & Exceptionally Bored

A short story:


Five days. Five excruciatingly long days have gone by since the last time I left my house. I'd managed to survive on leftover pizza and dry cereal for five days, without so much as an open curtain to view the outside world from. Fuck, I'm really going through it.


I hate being watched. I always have, and it's only gotten worse since the implant. My implant was placed about six months ago, and now the only people without implants are on the run. Sometimes I wish I had run too when I had the chance, but I know its only a matter of time before someone sees you when you're on the run. And when someone sees you, everyone sees you.


The government recently ruled that every citizen would be required to get a microscopic implant injected behind their eye. Once the implant is in place, the world can access a live stream of your life through your eyes. Crime has nearly come to an end because it's impossible not to get caught. Hell, people are no longer cheating on their significant others, no one liters anymore...in some ways, it's a good thing.


Mostly, I fucking hate it. People see when you're taking a shit. People see when you're ignoring their texts. Hell, people can now physically see how lonely you are and how little you experience real social interaction.


Worse than all of that, I am running out of money. I'd spent the last six months blowing through my savings just to make ends meet. No one really wants to call in a murder for hire when everyone is aware of your every move. All. The. Time.


I know what you're thinking, I'm exactly the kind of person that the government was trying to stop with the implant in the first place. Well, kind of, but not really. See, I only took on a particular kind of client. My clients came to me when they were in danger. My clients were the ones suffering black eyes and broken arms from "walking into doorknobs" and "falling down the stairs again." Everyone hates domestic violence, but I really wanted to end it. Permanently.


Now what the fuck am I going to do? I'm broke and depressed, and no one wants to hire me because I have no "legitimate" work experience. Plus, I miss feeling someone take their last breath. I miss being able to witness the last shred of hope leave the body right before the life force follows. I miss killing, and I'm going to have to figure out a way around the system because all of this pent up anger and tension needs a release, and soon.


Really soon.

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PO Box 1139

Hisawassee, GA 30546

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