The Groomer, page 7
SydFox04: It’s my mom and dad. They’re ALWAYS fighting. Like, every day and every night! I don’t even know why they’re still together. It’s so annoying.
PhoenixClaire21: Aww, I know what you’re going through, hun. My parents were like that, too. So. Selfish.
SydFox04: Did they ever break a TV? Or a mirror? Or a plate? Or punch a hole in the wall? Did your dad ever slap your mom? Did your mom ever stab your dad with a fork??
Claire didn’t respond as quickly as before. Sydney swiped at the tears on her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered upon hearing another muffled shout.
“God, what am I even doing?” she cried. “Don’t abandon me. I don’t know you, but I need you. Please, please, please…”
Her phone vibrated again. Through her blurred vision, she read the message from Claire.
PhoenixClaire21: I get what you mean. When I was a kid, I saw my dad hit my mom with a belt. It was so… awful. Like, I can’t even describe it, you know? He didn’t hit me, but I feel like I got PTSD because of what I saw. It was just so bad.
“Yes, yes!” Sydney said aloud. Tears of fear turned into tears of relief. She whispered, “You get me. Finally, someone gets me…”
Before she could respond, Claire sent another message. It was surprisingly frank.
PhoenixClaire21: Have they ever hit you before??
Sydney thought about her response. She hated her current situation, but she still loved her family. She didn’t want Claire to take a screenshot of her messages and report her parents to the police. She feared her father would punish her if that happened.
SydFox04: They’re assholes to me. Like, they call me stupid and useless and bitch and all kinds of shit. They just make me feel like shit. They don’t give me any rides or any money. My mom doesn’t even cook anything for me sometimes! I don’t think they love me. They wouldn’t cry if I died… I mean I don’t think they would… My sad life. A frowning emoji and a broken heart emoji followed her message.
PhoenixClaire21: I’m so sorry to hear that.
She sent a frowny emoji, too. She typed for a few seconds, then she stopped, then she typed again. Like Sydney, she was thinking deeply about her response.
PhoenixClaire21: Why don’t you runaway??
SydFox04: No way. I have a little brother and sister. I read for them. I cook for them. I protect them. If I left, my mom and dad would hurt them next. I can’t let that happen. I would die for them.
PhoenixClaire21: Aww, you’re so strong. I’m proud of you. I ran away when I was young. You know, in Michigan, the police can’t make you go home. You can leave and get government assistance. And you can probably take your brother and sister with you! It’s hard, but you can do it. It’s like domestic abuse, you know? You can go to a shelter for something like that. I got an apartment with a friend when I was 16. My parents couldn’t do anything to stop me. Now I’m in college.
Sydney whispered, “Maybe she’s right… Maybe they wouldn’t care if we all ran away… They’re drunk all the time anyway. Maybe…”
PhoenixClaire21: Btw, how old are you? She sent another winking emoji.
SydFox04: 16. You?
PhoenixClaire21: 19. We’re almost the same. Cool, huh?
SydFox04: Yeah, cool.
PhoenixClaire21: Well, I’m here for you, Sydney. Text me anytime, okay?
A smile blossomed on Sydney’s face. For the first time in years, she felt comfortable in her home. Through a few simple text messages, a stranger reignited her hope in life. She found a trustworthy friend.
SydFox04: Thank you so much.
***
Sydney and Claire’s relationship flourished over the next two weeks. They chatted every night, discussing their abusive households, their interests in art and photography, and their dreams and goals. Claire was always supportive, agreeing with everything Sydney wrote and understanding all of her emotions. She didn’t sound like an ass-kisser, though. She dealt with Sydney with a gentle, empathetic hand, like a mother or an older sister.
Claire avoided phone calls and video chats, blaming it on her unreliable Wi-Fi and her cell phone’s data limit. But they grew familiar with each other through their Instagram pictures. Claire was a curvy college student with curly hair and vibrant hazel eyes. She looked like a model straight from a magazine—or straight from Instagram. Sydney admired her beauty and confidence. Every time she looked at her pictures, she thought: I wish I was you.
On a quiet Saturday night, Sydney lay in bed and chatted with Claire. Her parents weren’t fighting. They were knocked out cold after a night of heavy drinking.
PhoenixClaire21: Hey, hey, hey! I have something for you!!
SydFox04: What is it??
PhoenixClaire21: You really wanna know? She followed the message with a smirking emoji.
SydFox04: Tell me!!
PhoenixClaire21: Okay. I bought you a $250 Delta gift card! And I want to PayPal you $250 for a hotel. You can travel for a few days now!! You can go anywhere, Sydney! ANYWHERE! Three smiling emojis with tears of joy followed.
Sydney furrowed her brow. She wondered if Claire was joking or telling the truth. She had close, lifelong friends, but none of them ever spent one hundred dollars on her, let alone five hundred. She questioned Claire’s intentions. Before she could type a response, Claire sent her another emoji-filled message.
PhoenixClaire21: Where will you go??
SydFox04: Did you really buy a gift card? I don’t know if I can accept that...
PhoenixClaire21: Why not? It’s my gift to you, hun. You really deserve it after everything you’ve been through.
SydFox04: But it’s sooo much money...
PhoenixClaire21: Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s leftover money from last year’s financial aid. They give you so much.
More emojis with tears of joy.
As she nibbled on her fingernail, Sydney whispered, “You’re giving me your financial aid money... But why?”
SydFox04: It’s just too much. Besides, I don’t think my parents will let me leave.
PhoenixClaire21: You don’t need their permission, you know? Just travel somewhere in the US. Go to LA or Florida. Relax on a beach for a few days. Think of it like a... a test run. If you like it and if nothing goes wrong, then maybe you can really run away with your brother and sister. If not... then what’s the worst that can happen?
Sydney feared her parents would punish her siblings while she was gone if she ran away. On the other hand, she wanted to believe it would change her family for the better. Maybe they’d actually miss me, maybe they’d change, she thought. She imagined herself at a beach in California, soaking in the sun while her parents re-evaluated their actions.
PhoenixClaire21: Live a little. The message was followed by a winking emoji.
Sydney bit her lip and snickered. The gesture said: I can’t believe I’m about to do this. She glanced at the door, as if her parents could somehow listen to her text messages from the hallway.
SydFox04: Okay, so... What do you want for it?
PhoenixClaire21: Well, I could use some help on a little school project of mine if that’s okay.
SydFox04: A school project? Sure. Sounds easy. What do you need from me?
PhoenixClaire21: I knew you’d say yes!! You’re the best! So, listen, I need your picture for inspiration. Well, more like a model. I want you to be my model, Sydney.
Giggling, Sydney sent: I’m no model.
PhoenixClaire21: Are you kidding me? You’re gorgeous! Your figure is perfect for my next painting!
Sydney rolled her eyes, shook her head, and blushed. She was caught in Claire’s gentle storm of compliments and empathy. Everything she wrote sounded right, as if she were a robot programed to make her feel good about herself.
SydFox04: Okay, okay. So you need a selfie or something?
PhoenixClaire21: Keep an open mind, okay? I’m taking a figure painting class. We draw... nude models. So, I need a picture of your body. Naked. Okay?
Sydney was caught off guard by the request. It sounded disgusting, immoral, and illegal. Her thumbs hovered over the screen. She tapped a letter, deleted it, tapped a different letter, and then deleted that one, too. Five minutes passed, but it felt like five hours.
PhoenixClaire21: So...
SydFox04: I’m sorry. I just can’t. Isn’t it illegal??
PhoenixClaire21: It’s art. And it’s not like I’m going to tell my professor you’re 16. (She sent another smiling emoji with tears of joy.) We draw nude models all the time. It’s not because it’s sexy. It’s not porn, you know? I paint it because I think people are beautiful. I want to help people find beauty in their scars, to express themselves sexually without being judged because of their genders or age, to promote body positivity. I want to paint your body as a statement of modern beauty. You, Sydney, are beautiful. You’re 16, but you’ve lived through enough to be 21 for all I care. And love is for everyone. Love is for YOU!!
Sydney sighed shakily. She couldn’t stop herself from overthinking. Her teenage mind was a maze, the sulci of her brain transforming into endless corridors. She weighed her options. If she rejected Claire, she feared she would lose her as a friend. If she accepted Claire’s offer, she was afraid of being arrested for sharing her nude pictures. Or worse: she was afraid her parents would find out before she could leave on her vacation. She never questioned whether or not Claire would send the gift card and the payment, though. The possibility of being scammed never crossed her mind.
SydFox04: You promise not to show anyone??
PhoenixClaire21: Promise! I’ll only share the painting. Everyone’s going to love it. I know it.
Sydney took a deep breath. She turned on her lamp, then she tiptoed to the door. She locked it slowly so as not to make any noise. Her father hated locked doors in his house, so she hoped he wouldn’t come knocking. She stared at her reflection on the full-length floor mirror beside her bed. She drew another long, deep breath.
She took off her pajamas and her underwear. She took four pictures of her reflection. In the first picture, she covered her nipples with her forearm and her crotch with her hand. Her face was visible in the picture. In the second picture, she focused on her upper body. Again, her face was visible in the picture. The third picture showcased her lower body from her waist to her feet. She didn’t hide her crotch. The fourth picture depicted her back from head to toe. She figured it was an even trade for five-hundred dollars.
She dressed herself, unlocked the door, turned off the light, then climbed back into bed. Her cheeks were red with embarrassment. She second-guessed herself for a minute, then she sent the pictures.
SydFox04: Are these okay? Please don’t share them with anyone! Seriously!
To her surprise, Claire didn’t respond. Five minutes passed, then ten, and then twenty. Sydney told herself that Claire was just looking for the gift card or maybe she was so inspired that she had already started painting. She lied to herself. At heart, she knew the truth. She made an honest mistake—and she couldn’t do a thing to fix it.
After thirty minutes, Claire responded: Sorry, I almost fell asleep. I’ll look tomorrow, then I’ll send you the gift card. Talk to you soon! Love ya!
As she read the message over and over, Sydney whispered, “What did I do?”
***
Sydney sat on her bed. A tear dripped from her eye as she blinked. It plopped on her thigh. She shuddered, but her bedroom was warm. She heard her siblings chasing each other in the neighboring room while their mother cooked in the kitchen and their father watched television in the living room. Beams of red sunset sunshine penetrated the blinds and entered the room from the window behind her.
She read a message on her phone. She read it again and again—and again and again. It was as if she were trying to translate it from an alien language.
The message from Claire read: Masturbate for me in a video. Don’t stop until you cum. No clothes, full face. And make sure the light is on. If you don’t, I’ll report you for sending those pictures. You’ll get arrested, then your brother and sister will be on their own. I’ll send them to your mom and dad, too. I’ll send them to everyone at your school. I saved your followers, so don’t try to block me. Trust me, that’s the last thing you want to do. You have six hours.
The message was followed by a winking emoji and an email address from a deep web service. It was sent three hours ago, immediately after Sydney’s last class ended.
Sydney sniveled while wiping the tears and mucus off her face. She turned on her laptop and played her hip-hop playlist. It was loud enough to mask the noise in the room, but quiet enough so it didn’t disturb her parents. She locked the door and undressed herself. She opened the camera app on her cell phone, then she placed it on her pillow with the screen facing the foot of the bed. She used the front-facing camera to record herself.
She sat at the foot of the bed, the small of her back against the footboard. She whimpered and looked away as she opened her legs. Tears flowing down her cheeks, she reluctantly masturbated. She wasn’t producing any arousal fluid because she wasn’t aroused. She was being raped by her own hand. She couldn’t stop swiping at her face, so she inadvertently used her tears as a lubricant. She glanced at the door upon hearing every thud—every groan, every muffled voice.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered under her breath.
After five minutes, she faked an orgasm, sighing and shaking and curling her toes. She ended the recording, a grimace of pain twisting her face. She dressed herself, then she washed her face in the bathroom. She scrubbed her hands with soap under scalding water, too. She didn’t stop until her hands were red, swollen, and pruny—until she couldn’t feel any more pain. Her mother called her down to eat dinner, but she ignored her.
Sydney debated with herself for five minutes: should I really send it? Will she stop if I do? What if I just ignore her? Her mother called out to her again. Sydney choked down the lump in her throat. She emailed the video to Claire, hoping it would be enough for her.
But there was no such thing as ‘enough’ for sexual predators. The headlines never read: sex offender caught with one picture of child pornography. The headlines read: sex offender caught with 320,000 pictures and videos of child pornography. Sexual predators didn’t rape one person and quit, they raped until they were caught. There was something wrong—so dangerously wrong—with their minds.
The next day, Sydney received another message from Claire: Okay, this time, fuck yourself with a cucumber or a banana. And none of that five-minute bullshit. Make it real. Put on some mascara, too. I want to see the tears on your face. You have six hours. Don’t fuck with me.
Sydney fought with herself. She tried to convince herself Claire was bluffing. The clock was ticking—two hours, three hours, four hours, five hours and twenty-two minutes. She received another message from Claire. It was her father’s email address.
“Oh God, oh my God,” she cried.
She complied. She recorded herself masturbating with a banana. The fruit was soft, but the penetration was painful. Trails of mascara stained her cheeks. She masturbated for eleven minutes, then she faked another orgasm. She sent the video to Claire as soon as possible to avoid the deadline.
Sydney whispered, “Please stop… please leave me alone… please…”
One day later, she received another request: take off all of your clothes, put on a collar and leash, write ‘Cheese2002’ on your chest with lipstick, then record yourself licking a toilet seat and drinking out of the toilet bowl. And Sydney did as she was told.
Cheese was the mastermind behind the sextortion. He used hundreds of fake Instagram accounts to communicate with hundreds of girls and boys around the world. He had already blackmailed dozens of teenagers and kids. Sydney wasn’t his only victim at the moment, either. He was good at multitasking. He only needed his victims to make one mistake to ruin their lives.
As the weeks went by, Cheese’s requests became more extreme. He forced Sydney to sodomize herself with a cucumber, chew on her forearm until she bled, and whip her breasts with a belt until they turned purple and ballooned out. He asked her to write the name of his deep web message board on a sign in some of the videos. It was the best marketing he could buy—or extort.
Sydney drew the line at Cheese’s most disturbing request: bring your little brother into the picture. She refused to hurt her family. She harmed and humiliated herself to protect them. Cheese threatened to leak all of her pictures and videos. Sydney thought about calling the police, but she didn’t see a positive outcome. Her future crumbled, leaving a black void in her mind.
She couldn’t face her family or her friends. She didn’t want to face the consequences of her actions. She believed she was out of options.
On a Friday, Sydney ditched class. She waited until her parents went to work and her siblings went to school. Then she returned home. She made a noose out of her bed sheets. She grabbed the ottoman from her living room and carried it into the backyard, lugging it to the tree near the brick partition separating the yard and the alleyway.
She stood on the ottoman and tied the noose around a branch. She tightened the noose around her neck. She started recording herself with the front-facing camera on her cell phone. Her eyes were dim and hollow. She looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks. She was ashen, like a cold corpse in a morgue. She licked her chapped lips, but she couldn’t moisten them.
With a hoarse voice, she said, “This video is for my mom and my dad and the police and the… the FBI and… and anyone who can help people like me. This video is not for my brother or my sister. This is my… my suicide video. I’m going to kill myself because… because a woman named ‘Claire’ has been blackmailing me. She tricked me into sending… ‘lewd’ pictures of myself to her. She used those to make me do… awful, embarrassing things on video. Then she used those videos to force me to do more awful, embarrassing things. Her username on Instagram is… It was ‘PhoenixClaire21.’ Her email is on my phone. I know you can find it. She… or he… is responsible for this. I’m killing myself because of ‘Claire.’ I’m killing myself because… because… I’m so stupid. Because I’m so fucking stupid.” Her voice cracked as tears trickled from her eyes with each blink. She said, “I’m sorry, mom. I’m sorry, dad. I’m sorry, Carlos. I’m sorry, Olivia. I hope I didn’t mess anything up for you. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I just… I love you all so much. I’m so sorry.”
