As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow across my room, I settled into my chair, excitement bubbling inside me. I had the entire evening ahead of me, free from the weight of university and the world outside. My heart raced as I opened my computer, navigating to my favorite adult film site.
With a few clicks, I landed on the profile of my absolute favorite adult film star. Her name popped up in bright letters, and I couldn't help but admire how nearly perfect she was—gorgeous, confident, and unashamedly sensual. I quickly bought a membership to unlock her premium content, anticipation coursing through me. This was a guilty pleasure I indulged in, and I didn't care.
Once I had access, I clicked on one of her top-rated videos, the title promising a steamy storyline. As the video began to play, I watched as she slipped into her role as a seductive stepmom, her sultry voice wrapping around me like a warm blanket. The scene unfolded, and I couldn't help but picture Lila in her place, the image igniting a fire within me.
I leaned back, my mind swirling with fantasies. My hand crept down to my waistband as I began to stroke myself, lost in a haze of lust and imagination. Just as I was fully immersed in my world of pleasure, a notification pinged on my screen, cutting through the moment.
"Society of Sins" flashed across the screen, and my curiosity got the better of me. I clicked on the message, expecting some spam or maybe even a joke. Instead, a chilling message loaded before my eyes:
"Your first task is here. Eliminate a man who has murdered three people, raped four women, and stolen countless items from innocent victims. Address: 345 Elm Street."
A sense of dread washed over me. This was real. The goddess had sent me my first task. I couldn't believe it. I stared at the screen, my heart racing. It was a mix of fear and adrenaline, the gravity of the situation dawning on me. I had never even thought of killing someone, let alone a monster like this. But this was my chance to prove myself, to embrace the power that Lysara had offered me.
The next morning, I woke up with a sense of urgency. Without wasting any time, I grabbed a small knife from the kitchen—nothing fancy, but it would do. The address haunted my mind as I made my way out, a strange mix of fear and determination swirling within me.
Arriving at the address, my heart pounded in my chest. The house was a run-down place, looking neglected and forgotten, just like the monster inside. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. Sneaking around to the back, I found a window slightly ajar.
With my heart pounding in my ears, I slipped through, landing silently inside the dimly lit living room. The faint sounds of snoring echoed through the space. There he was—my target—splayed out on the couch, completely oblivious to my presence. He looked rough, unshaven, and completely drunk, his life filled with the sins he had committed.
As I crept closer, the knife felt heavy in my hand, my fingers trembling with a mix of fear and adrenaline. This was it. This was my chance to do something meaningful, to rid the world of a monster. But the moment I was just above him, ready to plunge the blade down, his eyes shot open, locking onto mine.
"Who the hell are you?" he slurred, confusion lacing his words as he struggled to sit up, the shock evident on his face.
In that instant, everything seemed to slow down. My heart raced, and my mind screamed at me to act, to complete my task. But the moment of hesitation consumed me.
"Get away from me!" he shouted, scrambling backward on the couch, his panic turning into anger as he realized the threat I posed.
In that moment, my grip on the knife faltered, the reality of what I was about to do crashing over me like a wave.
"Please, just let me go!" he pleaded, fear creeping into his voice.
Everything I had thought I wanted suddenly felt wrong. I was supposed to be the instrument of justice, but in that moment, I hesitated. My hands shook uncontrollably, the weight of the blade feeling heavier than ever.
"Just do it!" a voice in my head screamed. But all I could see was the desperation in his eyes, and for the first time, I questioned everything I had agreed to.
"Why? Why should I?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper, torn between my newfound power and the moral compass I had thought I'd abandoned.
His eyes flickered with confusion, then something akin to understanding. "You don't want to be like me," he said, his tone shifting from anger to something softer. "You don't have to do this. You can walk away."
In that moment, the gravity of the decision pressed down on me, and I felt the world spin. I had a choice—one that could define who I was. My hand trembled, the knife slipping from my grip, clattering to the floor.
"What's happening?" he asked, now entirely bewildered.