Watch Me

Mia stumbles upon a website that offers her money in exchange for giving viewers a show. Except she has no idea what she's getting into, where to draw the line, and most importantly, how to stop. Things spiral out of control when someone finds out her real identity. Just how far is she willing to go to keep her secret life secret?

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

It happens on Friday night, right as her camera turns on. Her 'hello' dies in her throat when she reads the message. It's odd because most of her viewers wait until she's finished her greeting before saying something. 

Isaac31: I know who you are. 

Her eyes widen. She thinks about giving him a warning straight away, but she tells herself that it's probably just another troll. She's gotten a few of those lately, especially after she let her bra a little too low during her last session and gave her viewers a peek of her nipples for like, half a second before she realized that she's just flashed them.  

Isaac31: I can ruin you. 

A few guys start joining the chat, asking if he's for real and demanding he tell them who she is. A few come to her defines, telling him to back off and leave her alone. 

Isaac31: I know where you go to school. 

She manages to muster a smile. "I talk a lot about school. I'm not surprised if some of you have figured it out already," she says. At least she doesn't sound like her heart is beating out of her chest, making it harder and harder for her to breathe. On the surface, she looks completely fine, which is important because she doesn't want to have a panic attack with three thousand viewers watching. And, the number is increasing too, like they know something's happening and are being drawn into the drama. 

Isaac31: You have Economics 101 with Professor Irvin at nine tomorrow in Room312, Southwest Campus and you like to sit in the front row. 

The message disappears as quickly as it had appeared, as though the sender doesn't want records of this information available and he's deleted it instantly. She slams her laptop shut before she realizes what she's done. She's panting now, breathing in short bursts that's somehow still not letting enough air into her lungs. "Oh my god," she gasps. "Oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod." Her fingers wind in her hair, tugging on her scalp harshly. She barely feels it. Her ears are ringing and she's aware that she's been repeating 'oh my god's for so long that it no longer feels like words. 

She screams a litany of obscenities, mixing it up a little in hopes of working through the panic. She flicks her eyes around for assistance. If the floor could suddenly grow sentience and swallow her up, that would be good, thank you. 

She shakes her head and manages a shuddering inhale. A part of her knew it was too good to last, but it's only been two months and she's quit her job and she could probably lose everything.

Oh god, she had quit her job. She can't quit this too. She's going to get in trouble, not just because she won't have enough to make rent... She's put her mother on the medical trial with the belief that she would be able to make the thousand dollars per week payment. Her mom's starting to get better too, which is better than anyone could've hoped for. If she stops now, then the treatment stops, and she might end up catatonic, or worse, dead.