At the end of every 24-hour cycle after I publish one part of my story, I feel heavier while I am getting free at the same time. I feel some kind of rush, which is like, "I need to write the next episode," but not like an author concern. It is different, and I know what it is. This overwhelming emotion is what they gave me, and the opposite is what they took from me. It is supposed to be as a ritual, not like a duty. Well … my surviving adventure still exists even if it isn’t as it was years ago. Let's take this into account as well. I’m learning some skills that I hope will make me earn money as a freelancer. Anyway. There is still a long way to go before reaching the present-day part of the story. Let’s dive deep where we left off. song

DID I MENTION THAT I CAN'T SWIM? I USED MY CLAWS INSTEAD

My days were passing with the intense feelings, but they were not good ones. Mostly anger, future anxiety, desperation, panic, and much more panic. One of the biggest reasons for my anger was that guy. The one I’ve told you about at the end of the story. As I said, I had known from my college years. We had never come to face each other since we were living in different cities. When we graduated, as you know, I came back to my college city, while he had to travel around the world as a sailor. He was kind, good, and handsome at that time. We got closer at some point when I was abroad for my master's. We were texting, but there was nothing special. But he had been after me for years, and he was going to use the chance as badly as possible, you can estimate. I don’t remember how we got in contact again. Probably he texted first since I was alarmed because of the issues that I had to deal with.

I didn’t want to say that I was living alone and had an apartment in the city. I knew he wanted to come and visit, and I had no energy or wish for it. It turned into a huge leverage and my first revenge cake for my first project afterward. (evil laugh) So he thought that I was that town girl who was still living with the family, trying to get out from there, and having trouble with money issues. Actually, I was in a worse situation. The only truth was the money issues here. Intuitively I kept the reality as a secret, and I’m glad I did so.

I didn’t tell the issues after saying, "Hey, what’s up," but he seemed very caring, gentle, and helpful and wanted me to tell everything. So I did. I had no intentions to make him my supporter since I was very shy and proud. Besides, I have respect for him. I liked him. (moron of that year's prize!) He offered me help. I didn’t want to accept it at first, but my time was running out. I was living like in a Savannah. I could even hunt for food if someone had taught me, and surely, if I hadn’t been living at the city center. There was no option; I had to accept it. In this way, a toxic cycle that would last 4-5 years officially began.

Of course, he considered himself clever. He wasn’t making this charity regularly. At first, he did it a few times without asking him to make me get it bashfully. And he succeeded in doing so. I mean, making me feel ashamed. I wanted to underline the fact that I was borrowing; the money was a debt. That’s how we agreed. This was his leverage. Then he disappeared for a while when exactly the curfews were executed. You can guess how difficult a situation I found myself in. I couldn’t stream live, and I couldn’t go outside; the supporters already got that I would give none to them. That system collapsed.

I did it for the first time, the most I hated to do: asking for help for money from a man, different from asking a friend. I was feeling like shit, but surviving instinct was more powerful than anything. As much as I remember, he didn’t say yes directly; instead, he said “we’ll see” or something. There was something wrong. His manner was different. Vaguer, more obscure, more hostile, more cutting … I could sense it even from miles of hundreds … I also remember the shame, the guilt, and the sadness I perceived … How stupid I was! You might say you didn’t tell him the truth throughout, but it makes it worse since he was thinking that he was playing with a girl who didn't even succeed in getting a life yet, which makes him evil in my eyes. I trust my instincts. Even in the foggiest scenes of events, they whisper the right move. I’m here thanks to my wild instincts. another song

And don’t think he was suffering from any financial breakout or other issues because he was continuing to travel the world and sealing the deal with a different woman in every port they were visiting. That’s one of the biggest reasons that I pulled away from him. He also started to share “those experiences” with me in parallel with his becoming a d*ck about the help-money issues. I detested his strange fantasies. He was telling every detail of what he did with other girls in bed. But I started not to care at all. You know why? I felt the game had changed forever. He was showing his real face, he was introducing himself, and he was playing dirty. Then I was going to change either. The only difference was that I had to keep my card hidden for a long time, be patient, and have to endure that fucking narcissist bastard's manners. So I did that. But I must say that it wasn’t easy at all.

Once he even told me that he was a good person for the reason that he paid his taxes regularly. His vision was exactly so. He believed he was perfect, and taxes guaranteed it. He got to mock me soon, to drag me, and to dominate over me. His impudence was crossing the line day by day. He dared to say to me, changing my hair color, to criticize my manners, and so on. But I haven't said the most disgusting part yet; he wanted me to date with other guys. He wanted this both in real life and on the internet. F*cking a*sshole!

He wanted me to flirt with dumb guys as if I had no problem, for example, surviving. I didn’t date with anyone I didn’t want to date in real life, but son of a b*tch stipulated texting with guys on the internet to keep helping me. He mostly found the guys and sent me their profiles and read our messages. When thinking about what was going on outside, I was thinking that I could handle it. The deal seemed appropriate even if I hated it. I had no better option either. I still don’t know how he satisfied himself, but he liked that I didn’t like the guys. Besides, his being insistent to me on doing the reverse, which means choosing someone and hanging out with him, amused him. I don’t care, or I’m not concerned about mutual fantasies. The keyword is "mutual," the key point: free will.

It probably takes pages and ages to tell everything that he did if I attempt to do it. In fact, he feels very simple compared to the demons I’ve met so far. Yet, there is a little bit left to say about him. And then, we'll keep going to jump between different layers of my hell. Thank you for reading this far.

See you in the next part.