I'm drenched in urine and sweat, and nadia; that sultry vampire, dangling around the shower curtain like a hanging sloth. I couldn't tell you how many times I told her not to self administer DMT fumerate; pesky amateur ripping out her veins in the process of removing the IV. It would be like at a neuroseurgeon inducing themselves with isoflorane right before dicing through their cranium. I should've let her die.

Walking around the office with her tight curved hips, blood shot eyes, ebony fish net skirt, and charcoal colored hair, you could have easily mistaken Nadia for something that crawled out of a Blair witch project. She was the epitome of sadism. It didn't take her more than a few hours by the time she met a man to the time her thighs were snuggled around his face. The thought of a man penetrating her in the back of an allyway or a car, makes her wet. Thrusting up and down. She cums so hard her back spasms and body convulses. There is hardly any escape from a prepossessing woman.

Women make for far greater psychopaths than men. Especially in an investment company like the one I work for. We don't necessarily spend copious amounts of time and money to gain profit from funding other peoples ideas, as we do for the sheer psychological thrill of destroying their lives. I beg at chances to get noticed. I've extorted children to say they were abused by their father. I've blackmailed politicians into resigning from office. I've disbarred lawyers. The high is better than blowing high amounts of oxymorphone or taking a hit of fentanyl. It's an addiction.

Our rival company was my kryptonite. No matter how many times I've tried to get noticed, they were the ones who would step in cripple my work. I felt like a Gazalle getting nipped away by tiny wolf spiders, slowly dying from the venom that courses to my heart. It started off as casual. A note or an email telling me what their next move was, then it began as informal, a phone call or an un-scheduled visit to my office. Their feign smile and authoritative posture was an obvious sign that they were belittling me. I quickly became paranoid, and spent thousands of dollars on military equipment that the NSA use to debug a room. Nothing. Not a single trace of anything that would constitute as spying. I think to myself 'is it?' is this what my life has come to? Encapsulating my self in a room to which I plan to destroy peoples lives, only to be laughed at amongst my competitors? I need to become more.