Misery Loves Me

Chapter 3

The sound of the keys tapping repetitively filled the room as Dylan's eyes were locked to the screen. He used the back of his hand to wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead and raked a hand through his soaked brown hair. His eyes scanned the screen and the text that accompanied it. With every key he tapped, the more complex the plethora of numbers became, until they coupled together to form a code. A website popped up, and through various clicks and keyboard commands, a few more did aswell.

There wasn't one website for the deep web, it is a web after all. A complex web with video after video, picture after picture and sale after sketchy sale at every string of it. From a young age Dylan had always been fascinated by the internet and the depths at which it could transport you, which was probably why coding was a joyful challenge to him, as well as hacking of course. As a child he liked to imagine himself in one of those cyber punk movies as the hacker who was way too smart for everyone else, but he soon realised real hacking wasn't that exciting, or iq challenging, but it was still fun to him.

"Alright I'm gone for the weekend, I'll take her back on Monday!" A gentle voice called from downstairs.

Dylan lifted his left earphone enough to hear correctly and swiftly replied "You bought more meds right?"

"On the table" the voice called in response, the sound of the front door shutting soon to follow her.

Dylan's attention was suddenly drawn back to the screen when a loud pop up appeared. It read 'NO.1 STREAMING WEBSITE LIVE ONLY FOR YOUR PLEASURE'. Dylan was tempted to close the tab until he noticed a minimised video underneath the tab that displayed a figure in what looked like a prison cell, kicking the bars. He clicked into the website and enlarged the video. As the name had boasted, the footage appeared to be live, And with live videos, live viewers are soon to follow. There were constant updated messages appearing alongside the video from various different anonymous viewers. Dylan began to read a few:
User1272986: 'He's kinda hot'
User008565: 'Boringggg👎🏻'
User))97665: 'take him out already😈'
User976??&?: 'there's no way this is real'
User87677€?€: 'I'm not paying to see nothing'

Dylan stopped reading. "I'm not paying to see nothing" he repeated quietly while squinting at the usernames, "Who the hell would pay for this?"

His thoughts were interrupted by the screams of the man, once he clicked to unmute the video, "Let me the fuck out!", "What do you want from me?" He was crouched on the floor, grasping his head. There appeared to be a dark substance on his palms when he lowered them. "Is that... blood?" Dylan's eyes widened, "this has to be fake" he thought, snapping out of his trance once he heard a loud beep from downstairs.

He jumped up and made his way to the downstairs bedroom, where his mother lay, clutching a button in her hand.
"Hey mom. Did Charlie give you your meds yet?" he questioned, moving over to the bedside to clutch her weary hand. She slowly nodded, the respirator preventing her from lowering her head any further before she lay her head once again on her pillow.

"You hungry?" Dylan asked, waiting for some form of response. When his mother agreed, he rolled down her bed sheets and unclamped the tube attached to her stomach. He acquired a needle from her beside drawer and put the tip of the syringe into the feeding port. He then gently pushed down on the plunger to push the water through the tube clamp.

After he was finished, he disposed of the needle in a nearby trash can and kissed his mom lightly on the forehead. A weak smile spread across her face before her dreary eyes closed once more. Dylan's heart ached temporarily as he smiled while staring down at his sick mom. The only thought that brought him comfort was that one day she wouldn't be in pain anymore.

And with that, his thoughts returned to the man from the video. He turned to rush back up the stairs when he heard a loud knocking at the door. Dylan figured it was probably Charlie, after all, she had a tendency of forgetting things. He sighed and marched to the door, preparing to make fun of his forgetful sister yet again, but once he opened it he was greeted by three tall men with strong builds, wearing all black. Perhaps the most noticeable feature of their appearance was the freaky painted masks resting eerily over their faces.