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I roulette to find her. I copied at least 50 trusted china transfer offices in the presentation. After a few months, still difficult, she night back to the return to chat with me.


She asks me what I do, and I tell her I work in marketing in Milan. Then she says she hears her sister coming, so she gets dressed and signs off. Game Over A half hour later I get a yer on Facebook. Do you want to see it? My first thought was to send him the money immediately. So I plead with him. You have one week to send me 2, euros. If I send him money, what is to stop him from coming back and demanding more? Then he sends me the link to the video on WhatsApp — I feel sick to my stomach. And even if they check it, I figure, who is going to open a video file from an unknown person?

It was a competitive-up photo of a man in a premium mask. Seemingly, I each to simply drive over to his presence. Immediately I deletion reporting the u to YouTube for undisputed content.

It could be a virus. So ,e have two choices: Then he sends me the link to the video on WhatsApp. I watch it again. I feel sick to my stomach. Je I start reporting the video to YouTube for sexual content. I report it, close the page, reload the link, and report it again. Over and over. Of course I do. First 2, euros, then perhaps 5, Fscecam would it end? He was so upset. I keep ger the video. After about an hour, YouTube takes the video down. From what I can tell, all the views were mine, except for one. That could have been him viewing it after he uploaded it, or one of my relatives. Maybe a male relative saw it and never told anyone.

Can you imagine, though, if an aunt had seen it? She would have told another aunt, her husband, her kids, soon my whole family would have known. And what if my mum sees this? I would have thrown myself out the window from the shame. I imagine he moved on to bigger fish. The Oued Zem scammers trawl Facebook for people who will take the bait, and as soon as a man answers a video call—either on Skype or, increasingly, within Facebook itself—they activate software that shows the porn consumer a pre-recorded video of a girl downloaded from a porn webcam site. They are so familiar with this video that they are able to chat-message their porn consumers at exactly the points where the girl appears to be typing on the keyboard.

We spend 20 minutes chatting, 20 minutes for the video, and 20 minutes threatening — threatening and negotiating. His video feed is just a black screen at first but then something is moved out of the way of the camera and I can see another naked girl who is laying stomach-down on top of what appears to be a large dog kennel. Her arms and legs are chained to the kennel and her hair hangs down around her face, hiding it from view. There is a man sitting in the darkness behind her. His face is covered by a black mask and he is vigorously masturbating. Then I write this log.

Then I quit for the day. His video-feed displays a shot of a poorly-lit bedroom.

There is a partially open closet to the right of the frame and ahd closed door to the left. This is when a man in a black mask leans his head out of the closet and looks in my direction. He is masturbating. It hee the same masked man as before. I write this log and forward it to Donna along with the one from last Wednesday. But I am. I start to but then stop when I see the video-feed. As the woman uses a towel to pat herself down, the power is cut and the room goes dark. I hear the woman mutter something and then breaking glass and then screaming and then the session is ended. Gotcha, bitch!

After the last incident, I decided to install a video-capture program to record my sessions with just in case this fucker showed back up. This has officially gone too far.

When detectives arrive to question me, I pull up my video of the session to Sfx that I successfully recorded 18 minutes of a silent black screen. I had already tested the program and followed the steps exactly. I tell them about my job and the man in the black mask. Then I have the bright idea to mention that the past few nights I had this feeling like someone was following me during the walk from my car to my apartment.

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Just another troubled girl living alone, no man to support her, paying the bills through devious sex acts and hallucinating masked stalkers. It was like the moment those files where extracted, the computer just keeled over and died. I sent the video to my friend Jay who specialized in extracting useable data from corrupted files facecxm with an email explaining everything. He agreed to come over and check to see if facdcam could salvage the hard-drive. It was a close-up photo of a man in a black mask. Nad picture quality was poor, like it was taken with a web cam, and the longer I stared at it the harder it was to tell if what I was looking at was even a mask.

I unlocked the phone to find two new messages and a bunch of missed calls from my girlfriend and was immediately knocked out of my fixated stupor by an overwhelming sense of guilt. I tried calling her twice and got her voicemail both times. A sudden feeling of dread began to mount in the pit of my stomach as I checked my messages. The first one was my girlfriend saying she had just gotten home and was hoping to hang out tonight and that she missed me. Call me when you can, sweetie. I love you. Nothing but rustling sounds for about thirty seconds. I went with her parents to file a Missing Persons report today and played the two messages for the detective who took our statements.

I needed to write all of this down first, if only to help me mentally process everything.


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