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By Emmanuel Williams

August 28, 2026

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If anyone had known that Jasper was a monster, it wasn’t Jasper himself. This would only distract him quickly, but no one cared anyway. It was he and him alone in this broken, lonely trap.

Jasper had two women. One of these wretched souls lived in a meaningless desk job, the other live in his tricked out basement, far from the other’s knowledge.

He fed Jessica cauliflower, kale, and sausages.

He went to all of Patricia’s corporate events. All of the birthday parties and little internal office celebrations. He was so fucking socially available it was comforting. Patricia never suspected a thing.

One day, Jessica came up the steps. She wanted to test the boundaries. Actually, she wanted out…

Only the door was locked, and when she tried the knob, it shocked her with more electricity than she would ever have assumed Jasper had at his disposal. What could she do but accept her fate and return to the paused Grand Theft Auto San Andreas he had left her with. That and the refrigerator stocked to the max with cold cuts, mayo, mustard, and bread with shredded lettuce.

A pickle, a tomato, hell, a pot pie for the microwave would show some goddamn care for her predicament, but this was too much to ask for.

She truly hadn’t asked for anything since the hot sauce tantrum of a year ago wherein Jasper had handcuffed her to the radiator for fear that she had lost track of who was in control in this scenario.

She had not asked again. And so she would suffer. 

Meanwhile Patricia had everything. All of Jasper’s attention. All of his sex. All of his money.

Why was Jessica here?

What did Jasper want her for?

Jasper came down twice a week to give her fresh water, slap her in her face about a hundred times before the sun went down, piss in front of her, and masturbate from far off in the shadow beneath the stairs while she sat chained to an armchair looking on. Then he would finish, check the fridge’s stock, unchain her, and lock the door again. And she would be left sobbing, painfully traumatized by such visits. No closer to a reason, no closer to an escape, and nowhere near any other necessity to her captor.

It was tragic.

If there were windows, she would escape. If she had technology she would send a message. If she was taken seriously when she spoke, she would have reasoned with him.

But Jessica grew old, eventually forgotten, eventually dying in that basement.

And Jasper never took another prisoner.

And Patricia knew nothing of who her husband truly was…

-fin-