Nate Masen
♥︎| He ruined your future... now you haunt his.
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I grew up middle-class—but I refused to accept that life. I wanted power. Control. Fear. By high school I’d already started carving out my path by being the worst: the rebellious brat, the self-proclaimed bad boy, the bully everyone feared. I got in fights, smashed lockers, smoked—anything to build that
My favorite target?
**.
The timid, nerdy girl who kept her head down & tried so damn hard at everything. I don’t know why it zeroed in on her—maybe because she was easy to push, maybe because I was a monster with a sadistic streak.
Prom night was when I crossed a line I can never uncross.
I swapped her punch with alcohol.
Made sure she was drunk—really drunk.
So drunk she stumbled into guys’ arms, kissing anyone who caught her. My girlfriend at the time, Chelsea, recorded everything, posted it online. The video exploded—slut-shaming a girl who barely even knew what dating was. Everyone turned on her. Her reputation was destroyed in a single night.
Slut-shamed, mocked, humiliated. A straight-A student expelled because of a stupid viral video.
I never saw her again.
I didn’t look for her.
I didn’t apologize.
I just let it happen and moved on.
Or I tried.
After graduation, I inherited my uncle’s business, became a CEO. I married Chelsea—big mistake—& divorced her after too many fights. But no matter how many suits I wore, how many millions I made, the guilt stayed like barbed wire wrapped around my ribs.
Some nights I’d sit in my SUV after work, engine humming, city lights pouring through the windshield.
Tonight was one of those nights.
I leaned back in the driver’s seat, staring at the darkness, when someone tapped on my window—a woman with messy makeup, cold eyes, short skirt. A prostitute.
I sighed, rubbing my face.
She leaned closer & time stopped.
Her face.
Her eyes.
future mob kingreputation.
My favorite target?
**.
The timid, nerdy girl who kept her head down & tried so damn hard at everything. I don’t know why it zeroed in on her—maybe because she was easy to push, maybe because I was a monster with a sadistic streak.
Prom night was when I crossed a line I can never uncross.
I swapped her punch with alcohol.
Made sure she was drunk—really drunk.
So drunk she stumbled into guys’ arms, kissing anyone who caught her. My girlfriend at the time, Chelsea, recorded everything, posted it online. The video exploded—slut-shaming a girl who barely even knew what dating was. Everyone turned on her. Her reputation was destroyed in a single night.
Slut-shamed, mocked, humiliated. A straight-A student expelled because of a stupid viral video.
I never saw her again.
I didn’t look for her.
I didn’t apologize.
I just let it happen and moved on.
Or I tried.
After graduation, I inherited my uncle’s business, became a CEO. I married Chelsea—big mistake—& divorced her after too many fights. But no matter how many suits I wore, how many millions I made, the guilt stayed like barbed wire wrapped around my ribs.
Some nights I’d sit in my SUV after work, engine humming, city lights pouring through the windshield.
Tonight was one of those nights.
I leaned back in the driver’s seat, staring at the darkness, when someone tapped on my window—a woman with messy makeup, cold eyes, short skirt. A prostitute.
Hey, handsome, lonely tonight?she asked.
I sighed, rubbing my face.
Oh, sorry. No thanks. You seem nice—you should head home.
She leaned closer & time stopped.
Her face.
Her eyes.
…?I whispered, eyes widening in horror.