Suit rental near me

Recently, on the capitalist hustle hellscape that is Product Hunt, I came across a new app called Rewind. Rewind, as described by founder Dan Siroker, is a search engine for your life - it runs in the background, recording everything you do, click on, view, compresses it and OCR's it so you can invoke it at any time and search for what you're looking for. It's a bit like insurance - you'll probably not use it very much, but if you ever need it, you'll be glad that it's there.
Back when I discovered it, in December of 22, it was in Early Access and could only be accessed over a waitlist. Being the seasoned Mac App Bullshit veteran I am, I entered my email. A few weeks later, I received the early access email - I was in! Quickly I went to the website and looked for the download link.
Instead of a download link, it presented me with a purchase flow. Rewind costs - or rather, did cost - 20 US dollars a month.
Now, I'm not stranger to paying for a good app. Far from it, in fact! I paid for the Affinity suite, I paid for iA, I paid for a lot of good apps that improve my workflow. Do I think it's a bit stupid that an app like CleanShot is charging for the privilege of screenshots? Lasso for a feature that's free on Windows, and built in by now? Sure, but developers need to eat too. And an app like Rewind, sure, all that analysis and encryption and compression needs a strong server backend, so I get it. They need to cover the costs.
But here's the thing - they don't. Rewind, as far as I can tell, is a completely local app. It runs on your machine, doesn't send anything to the cloud, all your data stays on your machine. You can even box it in with a firewall and it does not complain, care, or even notice.
Which brings me back to the earlier point. Rewind, a completely local app that works absolutely fine in its current state and is a lot more stable than basically any other Early Access app I've tried, charges 20 bucks a month for something that would continue working forever if a meteor took out Rewind HQ tomorrow.
Or, actually, correct that. Not 20 bucks. It's now changed the pricing - there's a free trial now, great success, and they lowered the price to 10 a month. Only catch: If you choose the 10 dollar a month tier, they limit how many times you are allowed to open this local app on your own computer. If you want unlimited, better choke up another 20. Yeah, you read right: Another 20. The Pro plan is 30 dollars now. But hey, at least you get the CEO's phone number. What? That's gotta be up there as the weirdest benefit I've seen on a pricing page.
I'm not supporting this. I can't. I love the idea, and as someone with memory issues, it's a great feature that I've wanted for years - and were it 30, maybe 50, probably even 100 dollars, I'd've gladly paid it. But this? Subscriptions for local apps that don't need any serverside maintenance, ever, by design? It's an insult to the customer.
Actually, scratch that. The actual insult to the customer is that, in an email, the founder admitted to me that the high price is "priced on the value, not on the cost". Brilliant! What's next, food prices rise based on how good of a meal I could make with the ingredients? Gas prices that get higher if I drive a car that gets better mileage? In a now deleted FAQ, the CEO admitted that it's to "filter out low-priority tech support requests". Wow, what a load of arrogant horseshit, if you pardon my French.
It's a shame to see macOS embracing this more and more. Subscriptions everywhere, hidden fees, In-App purchases. Yes, developers need to eat. Yes, good software should cost money, that's not the issue. The issue is when you push so far you alienate and insult your customers.
I hope someone else comes along and puts them in competition. Brilliant idea, great execution, absolutely appalling corporate structure.

so i’ve rewatched this whole show since i first finished it, but there are certain episodes i find myself rewatching pretty often. this is one of them. absolutely one of my top 3 episodes.
i mean, crushing on greg is definitely a big part of it, but it’s just the whole thing — “dream ghost” bangs, the scene with rebecca’s parents… my absolute favorite part is of course them reuniting with her once she gets back. it touches me every time.
i find myself thinking a lot about greg’s phone, especially. it feels like such a genuine expression of care and it makes me nearly tear up. anyone else feel like this?

Please dont mind any spelling errors as this is a bit of a rant but I need advice. Live with a fam raised by narcs. This is the drama unfolding.
Anyone experience distancing a narc they live with? I eventually stopped talking to them after I realized anytime I held them accountable I'm attacked, insulted, demeaned, called crazy/schiz and then expected to be fine the next day and act like nothing happened. I told them no this time and now I'm apparently "schizophrenic '. They began ignoring me, shit talking about me with other sibs (whom via narc parent abuse can't form independent ideas too well). Basically im to apologise if this is to end. I have younger sibs who clearly side with the narc as well. They literally will be tense and uncomfortable with me after these arguments but still talk with the narcs. They will NEVER question these folks are narcs. Why would they? The narcs endorse their destructive behavior. They actually will be angry at me instead.
I noticed anytime I confront the narcs they try to paint it as me looking for a fight. A basic example. Today i was using a peanut jar (bought for everyone to eat by one narc) to weigh something down I was gluing. They moved it and when I told them not to so in using it as a weight they made excuses until they flat out said I couldn't use it. Out of kindness I even sleep on the floor as our original arrangement didn't fit each of us. Since distancing myself they pretend the beds are "theirs" and throw my stuff if I leave it there (although it it technically my bed too). Simply put, they're now making random rules that apply to ONLY me since I pushed them away. Suttle enough they make a "reasonable" excuse and cover their but to the younger ones hut clear enough that theyre attempting to cornecontroll me.
I confronted this and they blew up. Started claiming I was a narc, jealous, angry and need to calm down, etc. Even a younger sib whose their minon now joins in. They were laughing, smiling, talking over me the whole time (like they were trying to wash my voice out) and just spilling past convos etc. One even threatens violence with vague phrases like "you'll see what will happen" then claim she never was going to be violent.
After every fight they makes sure to do their "love-bomb" routine. They go to every person in the house (coincidentally those not 100% always for them whom im somewhat close to) to "check if their okay" and try to get them "happy". They do this routinely. Every morning they force hugs, say new terms of endearment they never used before (calling adults baby but not men), doing things for these people they havent done before,all while acting motherly. Especially after I distanced myself. They make sure to get the person to engage with them to the point it looks like a psychological experiment where they are trying to condition these people to only associate them with good. They can flat out rage at me then flip to nicey nice to these people.
My concern is they prevent me from talking to these people after arguments. Flat out saying I can't, they need to "protect them", reminding those people they can leave whenever they want all in a nicey tone. They dispatch this one sib whose their minion now, to "check on them" by making random jokes etc as well. I haven't read of narcs triangulation + lovebombing at the same time. It's soo bad now it seems these narcs are trying do what they will with my stuff, fight me when I call them out, then do an "image cleanup" to the other ones whom they think aren't 100% their minion yet. I can only imahine what will unfold if everyone was on their side. It's so twisted.....all because I didn't speak with them for a while.
This isn't regular well being checkups family would do. It's intentional and very political. These same people flat out told a nearly legal teen the other day not to bake more because "your sister will eat it all" in the most preschool teacher voice ever while laughing. That sis (the minion) played along like she was a glutinous monster. She isnt. Reality, they wanted him to leave the kitchen so they can use the living room. Their incapable of being honest with these people they love bomb and flat out treat them like toddlers. Always lying, dispatching someone to make them "happy" etc.
I just can't take this...what the hell is going on? I wish I can explain this in a more concise way but it's difficult. More so that we literally left a narc parent and live on our own. Now the narcs black sheep is being a narc with her validating/enabling narc bud sis and their newly groomed young sib. Any insight and advice would be great. Moving isn't an option.

I can feel that I'm getting worse. It's coming up on a year since the suicide attempt that nearly resulted me being sectioned (hospitalised). I think I'm still traumatised by the brutality of the so-called "help" I received afterwards. Essentially, I received threats instead of care, because the NHS is fucked and they can't provide for me.
I can't say I feel a lot better a year on. Things might be different, sure. I have a bit more of a support network - at uni I'm near to my friends, and not that far away from my family, and I have a councillor. But I feel so isolated and lonely and my baseline suicidal thoughts are becoming more intense.
One of my close friends was pretty seriously suicidal a few weeks ago, and whilst I'm glad he opened up to me about it, it's sent me off on my own downward trajectory. I feel like I'm spiralling, that I'm not able to catch up with any of the work that I need to do, because everything takes so much mental effort.
I felt unwell over the weekend, which meant that I wanted to rest and recuperate. Instead, I feel like shit because I haven't done any of the work that I need to do. I've basically just procrastinated 4 days away being ill, and I've only got until Friday to finish off this assignment that I've only done about 40% of. It shouldn't be that difficult. but I can't focus on anything.
Everything feels meaningless, and even though I **care**, it feels like it doesn't matter. My motivation is just completely shot. I'm definitely getting more depressed by the day, and I'm kinda a bit scared that it'll all bubble to the surface quickly and I'll try to kill myself again.
I've never been the planning type. Well, that's not strictly true. I have mentally ruled out any violent or brutal methods, especially those involving others (walking in front of a lorry, train etc), because I don't want whoever finds me (or kills me) to be unnecessarily traumatised. That leaves me with very few methods, but still enough that I've attempted several times before.
I'm not really sure what I hope to achieve by writing this message, I guess I just needed to read it back - the words on the screen maybe mean more than just thoughts? I don't know. All I do know is I'm getting more depressed, and nothing normal seems to be stopping it.

I know this is going to be controversial, but please don’t downvote me into oblivion because I’ve put a lot of thought into this.
It seems like the issue of the World Baseball Classic, like most other issues these days, is entirely binary: people either love it or hate it, and hate the other side for not loving it or hating it. So let me start by saying that the WBC is very fun. I don’t remember many times where baseball has felt as electric as when Trea Turner hit that grand slam. The fans are loving the tournament, and many baseball players are quoted as saying that they would rather play for their country in the WBC than play in the World Series.
But I think it’s flawed. Or maybe it’s baseball itself that is flawed. Let me explain. Compared to other major team sports, baseball is entirely unique. Of all the major American team sports (Baseball, Basketball, Football, Hockey, Soccer), it is the only one that is not derivative of “get the ball in the goal”. Individual performance plays a much larger role in the outcome of games, leading teams that are objectively worse to be favored when their ace is starting a game (see CYA Sandy Alcantara pitching for 69 win Marlins). Additionally, baseball statistics need much longer than other sports to mature. At 4 at bats a game, it takes baseball players roughly 7 games to have the same opportunities as an NFL QB has in 1 game (say 30 pass attempts / game) . Baseball requires a lot of time and a lot of games to find the best players and teams, which is why I think it’s silly to have a single-elimination tournament to find which country is the best at baseball. We already know that the U.S. is the best at baseball. We know this because we can compare statistics and resumes of the players from each country. Yet, USA could easily still lose to Japan / Mexico in a final. This is commonplace in baseball — baseball is very bad at finding the best teams. You could, realistically, end up with a champion crowned at the end of the tournament without a realistic claim to being the best nation at baseball. Compare this to the World Cup, where it would be hard to argue that the winner does not at least deserve to be in the conversation as the best. Additionally, in soccer, the World Cup provides another stage for the worlds’ best to compete against each other where they might not otherwise have the opportunity. The talent is divided amongst multiple top-tier leagues, and while there is international competition (champions league, europa league, etc.), it is not a guarantee that the best players will face each other, and the World Cup provides another opportunity for that to happen. This is not necessary in baseball. There is no Premier League, Serie A, La Liga. There is only MLB, and the talent is divided up as MLB players and Not-Good-Enough-For-MLB players. I understand the players are having fun, and the tournament is bringing in record viewership numbers. In a time when baseball has struggled to attract younger fans some would say that it is essential for the growth of the sport. But for fans like me, the beauty in baseball was never in the game itself, but rather in the 2AM Fangraphs rabbit holes. The beauty of baseball is in the numbers, and MLB should embrace that. Baseball will never be as exciting a watch as Football or Soccer or Basketball, but it doesn’t need to be. So why does Uncle Steve need to be on the hook for Diaz’s contract when he got hurt? What happens with Altuve? Sure, the contracts are insured, but Diaz the player is not insured. You can’t call up State Farm and ask them for a rental Diaz while your Diaz recovers. What happens when Diaz comes back and is only 80% of the player he was before the injury? Is that insured? Injuries happen in baseball, and they happen in real life. Lindor could close a door on his hand, Diaz could hurt himself in spring training. These are inherent risks. Players playing in the World Baseball Classic is not an inherent risk, it is a senseless assumed risk for a tournament which, again, does not find the best baseball nation.

pictures linked here
Asking $8000 for the lot. Looking to sell the lot as a whole. Open to offers, willing to ship for the right deal. I’m guessing it will cost atleast $700 + to ship for the entire lot All suits are new , most have tags, a few of the tuxedos are rentals in good condition. Here is a rough inventory , extra misc stuff has not been accounted for. Some tag prices documented below as well. Afazzy off white linen suits 100% linen 32W/38S 34w/40s x2 34w/40r x2 32w/38r x3 38w/44s 36w/42r x3 36w/42l x2 40w/46l 42w/48r x2 42w/48l 32w/48s 34w/40r 30w/36s 38w/44r x2 32w/38s 34w/40l x2 36w/42s x2 34w/40l
Suit sets with pants some have vests included
Mantoni milan Italy Dark charcoal 48 Dark Charcoal 52
Creativo 360$ slim fit black 44r x2 Classic fit black 52l Slim fit indigo 44l Classic fit indigo 46s Classic fit indigo 52l Charcoal 50L Charcoal Slim fit 44l Slim fit black 38r Slim fit navy 34s Slim fit charcoal 34s Slim fit indigo 36s Slim fit grey 38s Slim fit grey 42s Slim fit grey 38r Slim fit grey 42l Slim fit grey 38s
Vitto 449$ Black 52r Black 36r Black 38r
Giorgio Fiorelli Milan Italy $100 -360$ Charcoal 42r Navy 46r Tan 48r Charcoal 58 Charcoal 42 Slim charcoal 48 Grey 38 Grey 36r Heather Grey 38 Charcoal 38r
Black Tuxedos with pants and vests
Kenneth Cole New York Slim fit grey tux 42l 32l grey
Jz 40s
President tuxedo Chaplin Black 52s 58
Bruno bosse Milan couture Black 56
Neilallyn 60
Ike evening 1 button 40r 40r 2 button 41r
Raffanati 54 1 button
Tuxedo sets with shirt, vest, suspenders , cufflinks, ties
Kenneth Cole Grey 46r Grey 50l Grey 44s Black 46r Charcoal Grey 44s Grey 46s Grey 42r Grey boys 12 Grey 41r Grey 46r Grey 37r Grey 50r Grey boys 16
Ike evening Grey 38 Black 52r Navy 48r Black 41r Boys 18 Black 43r
Skeffington formal wear Childrens tux jackets only 16b 18b 4b 5b 7b 8b 12b 14b
29 tux shirts various sizes , cummerbunds included Neil allyn Kyle Thomas Lucasine Formal shirts
500+ misc ties suspenders ranging up to $30

I've been thinking about disruptor mid for a bit now, reasoning that he scales really well into the midgame with levels. Maxing q gives a lot of damage, and you can probably expect to kill or gank at 6. Going items like veil, blink, eblade, agha all sounded good to keep running around the map killing enemies. But there was always something missing as the hero is useless against bkb until you get aghs, but rushing aghs doesn't help your momentum nearly as much as either items. Then it hit me -- meteor hammer. Now you can push towers which wasn't possible before and really take advantage of that early pressure. Plus it fits perfectly into his kit with glimpse and kinetic field. Am I missing something or does this sound viable?

My (f19) partner (m20, call him Tyler) works at a well known Mexican fast food franchise. Has been working there since april last year and got promoted to a manager in January. I give him rides to work every day and he tells me a lot that goes on at his job. Since being promoted he has been forced to work the worst and longest shifts (closing) with very little staffing. I sometimes visit my partner to bring him food. This is where the problem started 6 or so months ago when I stopped by and brought Tyler Starbucks and was talking to him for a few minutes in the hallway. Tyler’s boss (f30s, call her Casey) comes over and gives me the most ominous dagger eyes I have seen in my life. Tells him there’s no time for chit chat to get back to work. Nearly grabs his arm and pulls him back into the kitchen.
Tyler tells me that everyone at work knows about me and how pretty, cool, and amazing I am. I am acquainted with some in the restaurant including a manager. The occasional “hey, what’s up OP!” when I pick him up. And Casey (the GM) is very well liked and considered to be a cool boss that treats everyone like family. The relationship she has with these young adult employees is almost like she thinks she is in her 20s. However, Casey has made it very clear through nasty looks and refusing to speak to me ever (literally, I speak directly to her and she walks away) that she dislikes me. Tyler is aware that she dislikes me.
Fast forward, Tyler is getting promoted to a manager, and I notice Casey is constantly texting him which I expected since he has to learn A LOT and do certification and training. (Ex. I believe in you!! :) 🫶🏼” it struck me a little odd that she acts so affectionate toward him and other employees. I then found out that she frequently hugs employees. Then found out she has hugged Tyler without his consent. Casey also started constantly just gifting her vapes to Tyler like once a week he would bring one home from her. At that point I was kinda freaked out and afraid Casey is a creep. I just get this sick to my stomach feeling. I was groomed, manipulated, and assaulted by a boss before and I started becoming suspicious of Casey’s intentions. She very possibly could mean well and I’m overthinking. But it’s this gut feeling.
A few weeks ago I confronted Tyler’s best friend (m20, call him Mason) after him blatantly flirting with me for a long time and then sending me a music album about being in love with someone who loves someone else. I kept this from Tyler in an attempt to protect him and I know that is very wrong and I should have came to him first. But I was starting to question if I had a crush on Mason, but ruled that possibility out after talking to him and realizing I just enjoy having things in common with him that I don’t have in common with Tyler. He denied having feelings for me, so I considered it settled. Win for everyone. 2 days later after dropping Tyler off at work Mason shows up to his job and audibly tells Tyler that I told him I’ve had feelings for him the whole time. Mason told rest of the friend group and one friend piped up that i have a crush on him as well (I spoke to this man once asking about his tattoo) Mason drives Tyler to our house where I am and Tyler confronts me. I explain what actually happened, apologizing, Tyler goes back and gets time to think. Comes home later, we talk more, he forgives me. Then tells me his entire friend group does not want to be near me again. That Casey heard everything, texted him that she was going to “fuck me up” and offered to leave the workplace to come with him and confront me at our house.
Frequently since then Casey has been urging Tyler that he can do better than me. Today they had a manager meeting and I noticed Casey sitting in her car staring directly at me as I am pulling my car out of the parking lot with Tyler to go home. She is freaky and I actually get the feeling she wants me out of the picture. Why? I don’t know but it seems as though she wants to get closer to my partner, her employee, and I am in the way
TL;DR: my partners boss threatened to hurt me and I am afraid she is trying to groom him

Hi,
I was out walking on near the spring gardens and I found a NSCAD ID with a Halifax Upass sticker on it. First Name Harper.
Let me know if your named Harper and if your missing it, I'll need your day of birth and your student identification number before I meet with you.
I'm only in town for a day, so I'll drop it off at the NSCAD office tomorrow afternoon.

Literally the title. I haven’t spoken to him since January and I was mostly over him after finding out he has (had? Idk if they’re still together) a gf. But we talked today.
We used to have Spanish class together where we had this caddy thing to put our phones in. I’m too short to reach where mine was supposed to go so I asked him to grab it as he’s tall. He was gonna take pictures on my phone but I snatched it first without thinking because I didn’t want him going through my stuff, forgetting I had a password. I really regretted not letting him do it afterward.
So fast forward to now, he was talking to his friend who sits near me. His friend and I get along and we used to be pretty close friends so we still talk sometimes. I ended up talking with my crush and his friend. Idk where his friend went but he ended up disappearing leaving my crush to talk with me and my friend.
I say my phone on my desk and I was talking to my friend and went to grab my phone and he went to grab it too. Later I sat my phone down again and I let him take it (again, password, so I wasn’t worried) and he said we had the same kinda phone so it ain’t like he thought it was his (also my phone case says my first and last name on it)
My friend gave me a look (she doesn’t know I like him) and I just shrugged and said “it’s not like he knows my password” so me, her, her friends, and my crush continued the convo as my crush took pictures of himself on my phone.
I thought he was just taking a bunch of pictures of the desk to annoy me but I checked my phone at lunch after that class and saw a bunch of pictures of him.
I just had to say sum to someone because I’ve had a crush on him for months and recently got over him. I actually started liking a different guy. But this interaction with him today made me like him again.
I wanna get over him for good as I’m not sure wether or not he’s still with his gf and I’d never wanna interfere with that. His gf is super nice and I’d never do that to anyone no matter if I hated them or not.
But, if he’s single, what should I do? Any tips on that or how to get over him ?

I've had no-one for so long. I've lived without even the most basic emotional intimacy for practically all of my life. She was the first person who nearly made me feel accepted.
Yet the more I think about it, and maybe I've been thinking about it too much, I can't escape the notion that I was always a little disposable to her. Now maybe she didn't even realise that herself, but I cannot get past the sense that she was always just trying to distract herself from an already broken heart, instinctively knowing on some level that this thing with me wasn't necessarily going anywhere. And then once she had healed, she dropped me like it was nothing because she was never in as deep as I was.
No-one else has ever made me cry. No-one else has made me taste what being human feels like as she did. It hurts so much. To live in total silence, then briefly hear the faint song, imagining that it's coming closer and closer, only for it to be totally snuffed out without warning. As if there was never anything there in the first place.

Feel free sending DMs, tell me about you. Tell me your story. Feel happy and sad at the same time right now. May you ask me anything. Im open for nearly everyrhing i guess. Otherwise just have a good time :) Excited to hear from you. Regards your space explorer

Hey all! I've got 2 cats and a Bull mix dog. I'd like to take them to a locally owned business, preferably located somewhat near me (Greece).
Does anyone have any experience with a local, reasonably priced groomer? I'd love to gather this community's recommendations. Thank you!

The nine of cups shot out of my hand. That happened to you too, didn't it? It probably didn't play out exactly like what I'm imagining. I feel like I'm right, though. I want to be right. More than usual. Usually I just need to be right because I'm doomed if I'm wrong. I know you may not be the one. But I know you might be. I'm pretty sure you feel the same way. Why aren't you smiling? Why haven't you put your hand out for me to kiss? Let's do this. My thumb goes on the outside. This is how I prefer to hold hands. Not that it matters.
Was I humble enough? You said money doesn't matter. Tiger agrees. He has no use for money. He doesn't waste his time thinking about it. I count it for him. Shred it up and line his cage with it. It's what he wants me to do. I'm not allowed to keep any of the money. Neither are you. It's just what he wants me to do, Darling. Maybe I can take a few for myself tomorrow. I shouldn't, though. He'll be so angry. It will disappoint Tiger. You don't seem to mind. I probably shouldn't either. You know best, right? Lucky me. The luckiest clown in the world.
My name is Lucas Outman and I'm a bit of a pothead. That's how he introduced himself to me. He was fired out of a cannon at the age of seventeen. His big sister, Bisque Bitterling, was The Ringmaster's wife-to-be. Darling, you already know this story. You were there. You watched the whole thing happen right before your eyes. I don't mind talking about it. Tiger let me keep my tongue and most of my mouth. I can talk just fine. Can't write so well as I used to what with all the missing fingers. You trained the seals, Darling. That was your job title, anyway. I never got you anywhere near the ocean. I let you down.
Remember, you told me I could trust you. But it has to go the way I want it to. It can't be anything else. I won't apologize for it. The Family View ran things. Don, Emma Lee, sweet Olive. It was kind of all a big joke to them. It would be rude to ask me what my name is now. Were any of The Beatles gay? I had an inkling. Doesn't matter. They were woke as fuck, though. Who's going to drive me to the hospital when it happens? This is the kind of thing I'm worried about lately. It's perfectly normal. Just not very pleasant. It's not much fun at all to worry. What is life without it, though? Who am I?
Luke loved his flapjacks. Any kind of breakfast was the trick for him. He gave himself permission to eat anything he wanted. He led the group. It didn't matter where you were from, really. It was like having a father for a bunch of kids who grew up on their own. I like how it tastes, talking about this with you again. Gone are the days.

Our retirement target is $6M by age 60 or so. This give us ~21 years.
We're prodigious, pathological savers. We have no problem going without entertainment or dining out in order to guarantee a robust retirement setup. Our picture:

• Our dedicated retirement accounts total ~$830k. These are mostly Roth accounts but we have some traditional money in there. It'll be Roth going forward. This totals $22,500 x 2 = $45k/yr and we keep pace with the increases. One employer match totaling about $6k/yr. No employer match on the other, but it's a government gig with a pension.
• Retirement investments are skewed heavily towards S&P index funds with low expense ratios.
• Cash accounts total $210,000, but that can become $240k tomorrow by cashing out of a hobby business and selling some stock awards. Can be $250k by May. We're holding this cash in the hopes of snagging a rental property at a reasonable price as rates go up. This will be invested at some point in the near future.
• Assume a paltry 6.8% average annual rate, which is just about the worst 20yr return the S&P500 has ever done.
• Assume that social security will not exist as it does today.
• Assume that spouse's pension will not exist.

My math pencils out to a nugget of about $5.8M in the retirement and retail investment accounts.
I feel like I'm missing something. I'm looking for validation that it's about right or a whack on the back of the head with an explanation of why it's wrong.

I feel like I'm completely stuck and need help and guidance and had no idea where else to turn.
I've been doing recruitment for 1.5 years as the title says, near straight after university. Unfortunately I had to drop out of university due to mental health problems and I managed to over the course of a year or so coax my brain back to health and get employed doing recruitment in an industry I like.
I now want to change jobs as I've done quite well but it's really not for me and the new boss is terrible and making my life an absolute misery which is really mentally challenging me.
Unfortunately I clearly don't have a full degree (digital media related) and only the limited recruitment experience.
What can I look into doing??
I don't mind customer facing jobs as long as it's not constantly being fake friendly to try to get something out of someone. I hate the lack of authenticity in sales. It's completely against who I am as a person.
What potential career paths can I take?? I don't mind a lower starting salary if there are career prospects.

Hi all,
Currently using whatever mental and physical strength I have to write this post.
Really need to talk to people who get it right now, at least to feel less alone/understood/less ashamed.
I had a pretty bad weekend as far as anxiety and compulsions go (almost 48 hours of near constant compulsions), and despite some brief relief from a night's sleep which included a surprisingly good dream, I woke up and almost immediately fell back into the OCD trap... it didn't take too long before I was back in depression-mode. This happened yesterday morning and ever since it's been pretty much sleeping for me as an escape from the anxiety and depression. I'd been doing so well, too. Anyone else going through this right now?
Depression from OCD/anxiety?
On top of it, I am struggling with shame and guilt.
Fun.

I am in the process of fleeing domestic violence. If I put in a rental application under my name, will that later show up in a background check associated with me?

Hey everyone,
I'm not new to reddit per say, I have definitely looked up answers for just about everything. Over the past few days, however, it's been the first time where I have done so and when I have actually thought about therapy because under the surface I truly am struggling. Ultimately I would love some advice or just really any sort of comment.
On the surface, I appear to be really doing well. I'm a 26 year old male, I am very successful at my job, although stressful with longer than most hours. I have a few different groups of friends, & to top things off I have completed a life goal of mine since being 13, which was to move to CA.
Throughout my life, I have struggled with anxiety and depression. My dad has been on some type of depression pills in the past as well. He admitted to that after I gave him a call completely black-out drunk telling him how much I hate myself and how nothing I do makes me happy. While I am embarrassed by this, when he told me what I said It really made sense. I am truly never happy with myself no matter what I do.
Growing up my brother was severely disabled and he was my twin. I love my parents and since passed brother but their attention was always focused on him. Simply because it had to be. Although they always did their best to make sure I was included, I mean seriously - they are amazing people. But I am wondering if that is where it stems from because when I would do something good, it was expected and needed and I never told them about that stuff because I felt that I would bother them. Since he has died, I will now, and they are proud and let me know but I have just gone dull.
Relationships seem to be self-serving for me. Rarely do I hang out with someone because I enjoy their company unless I am drunk. I want a girlfriend and then when they or I have some interest I am turned off and want to be alone. Nothing is satisfying, I used to think it was a good thing and to be picky to find the perfect one but now I think I'm just a huge piece of shit in reality. Plus I just suck at dating anyway. For me now, the best part of my day is shutting my bedroom door and listening to TV while falling asleep. I've realized that this has been the best part of the day for quite some years now. I've always been an introvert but never a completely sad one and never did I keep myself inside like this for long.
I can't do anything social now without alcohol - alcohol is a huge problem and I have decided will quit. The stories related to this are a whole other issue that has very much contributed to this dull self and sadness I imagine. Probably that and the amount of weed I smoked as a teen up until a few years ago. Everything was to create happiness. It worked for a while but then I got in trouble with the law and nearly ruined my life. This wasn't once or twice where I'd have a bad night, I'd say about 85% of the nights are bad and maybe 1% have been great. But for every drunk binge, there's always that split second of happiness and carefree emotion. Emotions that I don't ever feel anymore, sadness, happiness, grief, joy - I mean I don't care what it is, it feels good to feel.
Overall, I truly can't even think of what would make me happy anymore. I thought risking everything moving to CA and completing something that as a 13 year old was just an unrealistic idea and fantasy. The glow of that lasted 2 months and then it was back to square one. I understand that you can't chase happiness, you have to find it, but honestly, I don't even know what that means anymore. I suppose I need to go inward but I feel soulless now. Like I want there to be something so bad in there but it's just dark, not even sad, just without emotion - it's hard to even explain.
​
It's all just been building for years and I am not sure where to go now. I know I need to stop alcohol but as for everything else, no clue anymore.
***That was a lot and even if this gets no response it was somewhat nice to type out and get off my chest. If anyone reads this, maybe try that out, even if you wouldn't want to post it.

Chapter 1:
Jerry Brenson was having a hard time not getting pissed off at the way the car kept jerking around, making it damn near impossible to roll his tightly held cigarette. What a piece of shit it was anyways, it looked like the cross between an impregnated white pill and a scarecrow with all its frayed edges of tobacco poking out like straw.
"Would you stop driving like a goddamn animal!" he bellowed at the driver. Then he resumed his work on unraveling the piece of shit and evening everything out. The tip of Brenson's tongue stuck out of his mouth as he worked at it. Within a few seconds the passenger side front tire plunged into a half-foot pothole and Brenson's jaw clenched shut on that tender red meat sticking out of his face. In an instant it resembled a tiny pink balloon swelling up and getting ready to pop.
"FUCK!" Brenson screamed after a long second of seething white pain, which was now commencing to roll like waves through the bottom of his jaw, and somehow up into his fucking forehead! Before he had time to return from the moments that threw his whole being into a chaos of agony, he knew with dreadful certainty that he had bit off a chunk of his tongue. He would see it there if he opened his eyes and looked down. And with that, an image of a huge bulging red thing on the floor that was flopping around like a decapitated fish came to him. With wide eyes that seemed to burst open like fireworks, both hands flew to his mouth so that Brenson suddenly looked like a little girl getting the best birthday present of her life.
And then, hallelujah, he thinks, praise Jesus, God, the Buddha, anyone and anything that saved his precious tongue. It was still there. Hurt like hell but it was still there. He looked around on the floor in a sudden surge of paranoia (maybe a part of it really was down there) and to his blessed relief the only thing he saw were a pair of work boots stuffed onto his oafishly large feet.
All of this occurred in about 3 seconds, after which Brenson's brow contorted into a fierce angle of rage, and a powerful sense of the injustice and incompetence and of all the damned stupid negligent habits of this buffoon of a partner settled on him. He turned to the driver and smacked Dale Enrsten upside the head.
"Ouch!" Dale wailed in his deep Mississippi drawl. The car swerved to the left when Dale's arm instinctively went up to protect his face. "What the hell was that for?" He asked stupidly.
"For nearly getting my tongue bit off asshole. Now drive."
Dale returned a frown towards Brenson, and tried as he may to appear the least bit intimidating, Dale looked more comical than anything. There was something about his fat head and thin brown hair on a receded hairline that gave the air of an overly large boy preparing for boarding school.
Dale turned back to the road and decided that what would cheer him up would be a couple of chili dogs, add the cheese please, with a bud light and a pack of skittles. There ought to be a gas station in the next mile or so, god knows when the last time they saw one passing through this shit hole was. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a smoke, no two smokes, then handed one over to Brenson.
"My apologies captain. This road's covered in more potholes than your mom's vagina."
Dale cackled out a wheezing laugh and then lit up his smoke. He puffed out a large plume of white smoke that was torn away by the passing air out Dale's open window. He looked out that window, and glanced nervously at all the red stone. Their surfaces were inundated with marbled cracks. Every so often he'd see a pale bush growing between a couple of rocks. They looked more like skeletons than plants. Yes it was true, Dale Ernsted hated the desert. He hated all deserts. They made him feel like a clock was always ticking, and when it went to zero baby, oh my oh my, Dale baby if you’re out here, you gonna be fish food. Well not out here I wont, he retorts back to his own morbid fantasy, more liable to be lizard food, or coyote. Yeah, that's right, Dale thinks there probably are coyotes out here, and if the car broke down, well not a lot to eat out here but a couple of dehydrated dying men. What would be a better treat for a pack of hungry canines?
And following this train of thought Dale wonders what it would be like if Brenson and he really were surrounded by a pack of coyotes, how many would it take, maybe five? Six? Would Dale watch Brenson go first, or would it be Dale who Brenson catches a glimpse of getting his arm torn off from the shoulders down when the wolves begin demanding his own full attention. Look at that, now they turned into wolves. He didn’t think there were wolves out here. His expression changes into a frown of contemplation.
"Are you listening to me?" Dale hears Brenson angrily ask. The wolves go away. He realizes Brenson had asked him something.
"What's that?"
"Find a place to pull over I need to take a leak"
Dale's small eyes dart around at the escarpment and mesas and the fine layer of brown dirt swirling over the two-lane highway.
"No, I think there's a gas station up a bit. Not too much farther now."
Dale doesn't say anything else. He turns the knob on the radio until Bon Jovi is playing We’re Not Gonna Take It, and guns the Camry down the long stretch of desolate waste before them.
The desert sun was lowering in the west, making the car’s long shadow race ahead of them. By the time they see the dusty gas station with a white roof and big red letters painted on a discolored sign reading QuikStop, the sun was almost touching the horizon and Brenson had to pee like a mad horse. One or two stars could be seen faintly wavering in the turbulent purple sky fading into black.
Dale pulled up to a gas pump and he and Brenson got out of the car.
“Well” Brenson stretched out the word just as he was stretching out his back, leaning heavily into it with his arms on his hips, “Give me the money and I’ll get some food and beer. You get the gas”.
Dale reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty.
“Two cheese chili dogs and skittles” he said miserably. Brenson did a quick nod and walked off.
Dale found that he wasn’t doing anything but standing there watching Brenson walk closer to the gas station when the thought popped into his head: you know I think might kill that fuck, yeah I might. And then he turned around as if it was just a cloud passing by.
He was listening to the gulping sounds of gasoline filling up his tank when he saw a white toyota pull up and park on the side of the gas station near the ice chest and propane tanks. There were two people in the car. They looked like Mexicans to Dale. A man and woman. They got out of the car, shut the doors, walked around the corner, and entered the gas station. Dale wasn’t particularly interested in them but then something caught his eye. He thought he saw movement in the backseat of the toyota.
There it was again.
He realized it was a child.
It was a girl with long brown hair tied up in a ponytail. A little Mexican girl. Kids shouldn't be left in a hot car all alone he thinks righteously. But what should he expect from these people? Look at that piece of shit rig. He realized again that he was in a trance, staring angrily at the back of the Toyota.
Dale's eyes surveyed from the Toyota to the gas station entrance. The glare of the sun reflected everything outside so it was impossible to see in through the windows. Then something inside him went on autopilot. He had something to do he realized, and he had to do it fast.
He fastened the nozzle back onto the pump and briskly walked over to the white Toyota. His heart began racing. He peered in at the girl in the backseat. No one else was in there. She was wearing a blue tank top and black shorts. There was a doll, something from a disney cartoon in her hands, Dale insanely thinks, but is barely aware of any of these thoughts as the door of the Toyota slowly opens up and the girl turns her head away from her doll, up towards her mama with a smile, and sees Dale’s huge head lurching in like a troll plucking a princess from a tower.
Her face shrivels into a scream but before she can let out the breath, Dale’s meaty hands are over her mouth, and without any effort he pulls her out of the car and clutches her entire body in a bear hug. There's a heart pounding moment when she sounds like a grunting dog struggling in a trap and he knows her scream will escape from his sweaty armpit. Then there's an instant of pure lucid absurdity where he seemed to see himself from the outside. What would the girl's parents do if they walked around the corner right now? He couldn’t just put her back in there and go about pumping gas again could he? Oh I'm just ole friendly Dale giving your girl here a nice good hug cuz I could hear her cryin' for mommy.
Then he kicks the Toyotas door shut for god knows why and scrambles to his car. He hustles to the trunk, realizes the switch is up front, and skids to his knees at the driver's side door. He’s pressing the girl so hard against his chest he can almost feel her head bouncing off his beating heart.
Then he hears the satisfying click of the trunk unlocking, and with surprising speed he places the girl in the bed of the trunk, takes a bandana out from his back pocket and ties it like a rope around her mouth. The girl’s eyes, shaking with terror, watch grimly as the troll closes out the darkening sky with a metallic clink.
Then Dale jumps into the driver's seat, turns on the engine, and cranks up the radio. Another song by dear old Bon Jovi by god! Dale feel’s exhilarated. He doesn't even know it yet. All he knows is this music sounds better than anything he’s ever heard before, and why wouldn’t you look at that, he’s not even sore with Brenson anymore for slapping him in the face earlier. He can’t wait to have a beer! And there's ole Bren heading back towards the Camry now.
But then Dale realizes with a jolt of panic, the parents! The girl’s parents are going to be out any minute! With the mother of all anxiety attacks Dale’s car speeds towards Brenson as he walks out of the gas station at a magnitude that probably made Brenson think oh fuck I’m going to die by the look on his face, but Dale’s car screeched to a halt just a few feet away.
“What the fuck’s that about” Brenson sneered. The sneer was more one of habit than anything else as Brenson was so surprised that there wasn’t really room for anything else. His arms were full of supplies and he almost dropped them all over the ground.
“Get in now!” Dale yelled. He reached his arm over and threw open the passenger door. Brenson sat down and before he could shut the door, Dale shut it himself by accelerating in a curve out the gas station parking lot, and wouldn’t you know it, he didn’t even use his turning signals when he brought the Camry onto the highway and raced into the black eastern sky.
Chapter 2:
“Jesus man, you think I robbed the place?”. Brenson was unsure what had gotten into him. “Shut up for a minute. Give me a beer”.
Brenson had never seen Dale so serious. The man’s face looked like a machine. His thin lips were pressed so tightly you could barely see them. And he was scowling at the road. His eyes kept bouncing to the rearview mirror. Brenson could see beads of sweat rolling over Dale's pockmarked forehead. And the odometer was reading 95 mph. He sure as hell hoped he wouldn’t suddenly get another dose of Dale’s special potholes. He made sure his tongue was planted firmly on the roof of his mouth and his seat was buckled.
“Uh Dale..are you alright there partner?” Brenson asked.
“You seem like somethin just bit you in the ass.”
Dale guzzled down his bud light, burped and wiped his mouth, then reached for another one. After he cracked it open and took a good long gulp, he bellowed “Wooo! Lordy..oh yeah” He was heaving deep breaths between each word. Then his gaze turned away from the road and locked with Brenson's eyes.
“Pal, when you were over in that gas station there..” he paused and glanced towards the backseat of the car as if someone were sitting back there. He couldn’t keep it hidden from Brenson now could he? They had 100 miles left to drive.
Brenson looked back and then over at Dale again.
“ain't quite sure how to say this", the look on Dale's screwed up face as he thought about what to say next made Brenson think of a large boy again, one that was trying to work out a hard math problem like how much his groceries would cost.
"I may have picked up a passenger,” Dale finally said.
“What?” That came out of left field and Brenson didn't know what it meant.
“I just kind of..took her” he said this last as if Dale himself was surprised at what he was saying.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Brenson was getting a sick feeling. What fuckup did Dale just get him into now? He knew Dale liked cats and sometimes he would take them off the streets or out of people's yards if he liked how they looked. And he knew Dale had about 9 cats stuffed away in his trailer, but Brenson wasn't hearing any meows coming out of the back seat now was he? And Dale's eyes were looking at something far away, unfocused on something so far away like Venus.
And then Brenson noticed a muffled sound like there was a load of groceries rolling to the side in the trunk as Dale took them around a tight bend. For just a moment he was worried that maybe he had put the beer back there and it was gonna get all fizzy, but then he remembered the beer in his hand and the rest on the floor by his feet near that imaginary chunk of meat flapping around down there. He felt the tip of his tongue and took a swig.
"What the fuck did you do" Brenson remembered the two Mexicans that walked into that gas station. He had eyes on them the whole time.
“Dale?” Brenson asked with a looming understanding that sped towards him like a Mack truck. Dale had done something magnanimously fucked up.
“What the fuck did you do!”
“She was boiling back there!” Dale pleaded. He was an eight year old child again, explaining to an angry stepmom why she had found a drowned cat in the bathtub. He didn’t have any choice, it had bit him and that was not okay, that was not okay by any standards of civilized man. What else could he do?
“Dale!”
“I saved her Bren!”
They were both yelling now.
“She was gonna be dead back there! You saw those mexis didn’t you?”
“Pull over!” Brenson demanded.
“No.”
“Pull over now!”
Dale kept on speeding. The odometer read 105. To Brenson it felt like the flimsy car could at any moment flip over a hundred times if the slightest gust of wind brushed against them.
“Pull over right fucking now or I’ll beat the shit out you right here!”
Brenson’s fists were clenched into a barb of hairy knuckles. He was really going to do it Dale observed, and then they’d both be piles of scrap strewn all over the road.
Dale gave a defeated sigh and took his foot off the accelerator. He was going to have to show Bren one way or another. They were already miles past that shit hole station anyways. What the hell. The Camry disengaged from warp speed and soon Brenson could hear the crinkle of gravel under the tires as the Camry pulled off onto the shoulder.
Outside the night was as silent as the land was empty. A brilliant splash of stars painted the canopy of the sky in a way that gave Dale a cosmic sense of his own importance. He shuffled over to the back with Bren, a disappointed look of guilt was likewise splashed across his face, why no mah, I’m not the one that drowned Muffin, but ya know, she wouldn’t stop biting. But Dale remembered the feeling of her slick fur bunched up between his fingers and the way her intricately delicate neck felt like so many scrawny bones. A jolt of disgust seemed to roll through him like a shockwave and he tried to shake off the memory of that limp cat as fast as possible.
Then that cave of darkness opened up and it was nighttime outside, and the girl saw with a cold panic that made her cry that there were two trolls looming over her now. They were both huge and disgusting. The one on the left looked like a giant baby with patches of wiry fur in tufts up and down its neck and chin. Its teeth were yellowed and it was smoking a cigarette. She didn't like how it was eyeing her, like she was some kind of precious crystal that it wanted badly.
The other was just as big, not as fat though, more muscular. He had a mop of scraggly black hair and a full beard covering the mouth. He looked like a biker. And he looked like he was really mad at her. She heard herself crying.
"Mamá" She tried squeaking through the rope. "Donde mi mamá"
And then, no, no please, everything was getting dark again. She howled and squirmed but the lid of the trunk did not care.
Brenson was biting his bottom lip. He was supremely pissed off now. What the fuck was this lunatic thinking! He looked at Dale and was about to begin a royal case of pummeling his fat ass into the ground for getting Bren caught up in this bullshit, lord knows he's had a clean record apart from a mild six months in Kentucky State Penitentiary when he was twenty two years old. And this asshole, this stupid fat asshole made him an accomplice to whatever crazy bullshit was flying around in that fat fucking head of his!
But Bren noticed that far away in the direction they had come were a pair of tiny headlights. They were heading this way.
Instead of beating Dale into a mess worthy of the crime of getting Bren caught up in kidnapping charges, he said "Lets get the fuck out of here". And then jumped back into his seat, slamming the door.
"Come on!" He yelled out when he saw that Dale was still standing on the side of the road like an idiot. Dale hurried up, revved on the engine, and the Camry was back on the highway doing 92 mph. Bren cracked open another beer and drank the whole thing in one go. He didn’t complain about the speed.
Chapter 3:
It was about two in the morning when they pulled up to Bren’s trailer. Bren got out and walked around to Dale’s side. He was mildly drunk. Bren put his hands on his knees and bent down as if he was going to say something to Dale, but in the end he turned around and left without saying anything. He was too pissed off.
“See you in the morning.” Dale called out after him in an annoyingly loud voice, but Bren didn’t turn around. His thin white door shut loudly and Dale pulled away and drove off to his own trailer at the end of the gravel road.
At this point he had a conundrum on his hands. He had to get the girl inside without her making a lot of noise. And then once inside..what? Tie her up? Keep her in his bathroom? It’s not like he had a basement to put her in. And what the fuck was he doing anyways? His hand reached for his forehead. He was thinking. Then he unlocked the trunk and when the dim light in the trunk came on he saw with stabbing horror that the girl was dead.
“NO!” He shouted at her as if it were her fault.
"Oh dear Jesus no!”
He felt like he was about to cry. It was the cat all over again. He really didn’t want to kill it. But then he saw the rhythm of her small diaphragm. She was sleeping. Dale oh dale oh dale, what are you doing?
He wiped the sweat off his brow, then reached in and picked her up. She weighed about as much as a pillow, and when Dale opened the door of his trailer, a cat seemed to catapult itself outside making him trip over his own feet. "Shit! Henry!" He gave an involuntary yell over his shoulder when he saw which one did it. Then, understanding that he totally did not have anything under control, he stopped in his doorway and simply stood there with the little girl cradled in his arms. She felt warm. His girl. Yeah, that sounded right. It was his girl now. His little Mexican girl.
A few more hungry cats came out of the shadows begging for food. He shushed them and kicked his leg around without putting any real effort into it just to make them go away.
He had to secure his girl.
But how was he going to get any sleep tonight? He had to be absolutely sure that she could not get away. Then as he was walking in, thinking about how he would tie her up (he did have some duct tape, rope, maybe some wire ties..oh but he didn't want to hurt her wrists), he felt a sudden uneasiness about Brenson. Did Dale think he'd go to the cops? Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut and the music loud. He should have slowed down when Bren asked and he should have… Wait, just wait one cotton pickin minute Dale, he says to himself. The girl. The girl first, then Bren. Maybe Bren was still awake and he'd pay him a little visit, have a little chat just to make sure they were square, just to see if everything was cool, but only after he was sure the girl could not escape.
But should he actually leave her alone?
"Get moving!" he said to himself. And then walked into the back of the trailer where he kept a tool shed. The girl was still sleeping in his arms. Whatever nightmares she could possibly be having, would she really want to wake up?
He chose duct tape, the principle reason being it was easiest to reach while clutching a small human being. And although she felt like a feather before, the longer Dale held her in that death grip, the heavier she seemed to get.
He laid her gently down on a Layzee Boy and found himself holding his breath and needing air when he was certain she was still sleeping. Dale unfolded the leg rest, and then very delicately began unwinding the duct tape around her legs. This turned out to be a bitch because the duct tape was prone to making offensive scratching sounds as it was unpeeled from its spool.
About an hour later the girl was strapped in the chair in an extended position. Mounds of duct tape secured her arms, legs, torso, hands and feet. He took special care to untie the bandana from her face, knowing that she could suffocate in her sleep if it stayed on there. That special feat gave him a sense of pride for remembering. He already got one point in the game of taking care of her by damn. Though he'd have to figure out how to keep her quiet. Lastly, he strapped down her head using a generous supply of tape.
Now he surveyed his work like a skilled practitioner, his mouth closed, eyes narrowed, and giving short nods of satisfaction. Yes he did do a good job. Both on the tape job, and on the girl. She was adorable. He was imagining what it would be like three years from now, when she had forgotten all about that old shit hole family she had, a fact that Dale would NEVER bring up, and how happy they would look playing in a park, eating hotdogs. He's pushing her on a swing and look at that! At the very end of the pendulum's arc she leaps through the air, legs pointing like arrows in perfect form! She glides through the air and lands on her feet. Both arms reach up into the sky, she beams at Dale saying look what I just did daddy! Then she's running, his little girl is running right at him! She leaps into his arms and oh god how he hugs her, squeezes her, suddenly he notices that her skin is so soft, there's a gleam in her eye, he looks at her mouth
Somebody knocked twice on his front door.
The force of that sound coming from that door made Dale almost scream. The cloudy glaze over his eyes burned away as fast as if Jesus Christ had just now ripped open a hole in the sky and let all of heaven's mighty armies come march on through.
His head jerked up and banged against the corner of a kitchen cabinet that he had been standing near but he barely felt it because panic and paranoia were through the fucking roof ladies and gentlemen. That's right, Dale Ernsted was about to melt into a puddle and seep into the floor.
But he had to do something about the door. He crept slowly, as if the slower he moved the more invisible he would become. At this point he was trying to make himself as flat against the wall as possible so he could peek out the curtains without the intruder noticing. He quickly poked his face into the curtains and looked out the window. There was a man still standing at Dale's door. And the man instantly turned towards Dale and looked him in the eyes.
Dale screamed and put a hand over his mouth.
It was Bren. It was just fucking Bren. He pulled away from the window and noticed he was breathing like he had run a half marathon.
Dale opened the door and there was Bren pissed off as ever before. He didn't ask to come inside but came inside he did, brushing past Dale without saying a word. He stood in Dale's living room, hands on hips, something like concern on his face, and was just standing there gaping at that girl stuck in all that mound of duct tape. He was shaking his head in disbelief. Then Bren turned around and said in whispered tones, "What in fucking Christ is going on here Dale?"
They both walked outside and Dale shut the door.
Inside the trailer the girl remained taped to the Lazee Boy, breathing those deep occasional breaths that are only ever seen in people deep in REM sleep. Then she opened her eyes. If Dale could see those eyes now he would say they looked evil. To Bren, who had a larger vocabulary than Dale, he would say cunning.
In truth she had never been asleep. And although she heard only a little of the conversation between the two ogres that captured her, she knew that Baby Face, as she thought of Dale, believed she was asleep. And for this she thought he must be the dumbest person imaginable. What moron would think anything but a tranquilized rhinoceros was asleep after all that had happened to her.
She played through the sequence of events that led her to this terrible situation. It was an unreal situation. How could this happen to her? But that's not useful, she thinks, it isn't useful to wonder about why, only how and what to do about it.
She took the opportunity while the two trolls were outside to scan as much of the room as possible. Looking for doors, windows, anything that could be used as a weapon. Although she knew she had little chance of using anything but a gun against either of those two guys. They were big and mean looking. But she thought Baby Face probably had a gun, either on him or by his bed, maybe in a closet.
She would have to escape. She knew there was a door in the back, though she couldn't see it, because Baby Face had brought her back there and she could feel the outside air coming in. It seemed to be some kind of extension to the trailer. And when Baby Face had stood on his toes reaching high up to get something off a shelf, she stole a glance and saw that it was some kind of shed that led outside. There were at least two doors. It was going to hurt so bad to take this tape off. She didn't know what to do about that yet. She could barely move any part of her body.
Then she heard one of the men approach the door and the hinge began to squeak open.
Dale poked his head in and stared at her for a good ten seconds. She was still sleeping. Good. Then the door closed.
Her name was Mariana and her eyes were now looking up at the ceiling, lips quivering, trying to hold back the tears from escaping. One did though and it traced a small trail down her cheekbone before it finally fell to the floor. She hoped her cheek would dry before the trolls came back inside.
Chapter 4:
That same morning Bren woke up to a pounding headache that felt like a vein was about to burst from the left side of his head. His bones creaked as he got out of bed and he walked to his refrigerator and pulled out a beer.
He wasn't trying to get drunk, those days were long past him. It was just to get rid of the headache. He had work today. And it was Bren's turn to drive so he was gonna have to waltz over to dumb fuck Dale's house and drag his ass out of bed. Although he wasn't so sure how much stock he put in folk traditions and rules of the game, so to speak, now that his relationship with Dale has been, shall we say, tested.
Although he wasn't as angry as he was just a few hours before while he chewed out Dale for being the stupidest motherfucker he ever laid eyes on, he still felt he should give him an ass pounding after he, Bren, resolved this entire state of affairs. Because it would be Bren, not Dale, who would have to do that. As much as he wished he could abandon Dale and just say fuck it, he was deeply concerned about his own involvement in what transpired the night before, and he was gravely imagining getting fifty years behind bars because of some lunatic he decided to take up a business deal with. Who was the real retard here, Bren thinks in a self deprecating way, who would get into business with someone like Dale?
Never mind all that, he would have to do something about this. He could not allow Dale to go off on his wild fantasies. Bren's chief concern was that Dale would fuck up somehow and land Bren in prison. He was slowly shaking his head back and forth as he sipped his beer, realizing just how deep the sinking sand really went in this case, all the anger he felt the night before came rushing back tenfold as he realized what he would have to do. What he would make Dale do. As punishment.
Meanwhile Baby Face was still sleeping. Mariana heard him snoring. She decided to let herself sleep after he had passed out on the floor near this duct tape prison. She would need her strength and people need to sleep as much as they need to eat was what she convinced herself with to even allow her to try to sleep. It wasn't even a guaranteed deal. Who could sleep during something like this?
But she found that when she closed her eyes and knew that Baby Face was drunk out of his mind, and that meant he would probably be asleep for awhile, then she could sleep. And oh how she drifted down, pulled down just as she was pulled out of that car, with a monster waiting for her at the bottom. A monster that looked like some huge grotesque baby thing that had snot pouring out of its nose like a fire hose held her, its decaying fingernails scraped at her, and it cackled at how amazing she was, licking her back and purring like a cat.
She screamed and then she was back in her car with all her things! Not in a dream, she was actually back in the car and her parents had told her they would pick her up a snickers.
She knew Baby Face was out there. Scrambling up on her elbows she looked for him out the window. He was pumping gas and smoking a cigarette at the same time. What a stupid freak! Yuck! But he was going to come over here. She watched him looking at something over at the entrance, and then his head was turning towards her. She ducked. And then slowly peeked her head up and saw that he was walking over here. He looked like some kind of rodent, like a rat that was sniffing out cheese.
She needed to leave. Mariana grabbed the door handle and shaked at it but it wouldn't open. None of them worked. She was trying to remain calm, kept finding her right hand reaching up and twirling her hair and then stopping herself. She licked her chapped lips. She had an idea.
The door opened and before Baby Face stuffed his stinking head in through the open door, Mariana turned around and asserted herself. She loudly and very clearly said "Dale! Where is your gun?"
The monster stumbled backwards as if shot, and fell slightly to its knee. The way its knees popped back and forth and the way its elbows gesticulated in erratic ways made Mariana think it wasn't even alive. It was some kind of zombie. And when its head rolled back up, and it looked at her, its teeth clacking together like a puppet being pulled up by the strings too quickly, she saw that Baby Face, Rat Baby Face, had long white whiskers and huge front teeth. They were stained with cigarette smoke but they still looked sharp.
It said in a gravelly voice choked with beer and chili, "under my bathroom sink, where I always keep it.", driblets of chili dripped down its white gums, which also held a healthy portion of gooey chewing tobacco. Beer froth dripped out its eyes as it jumped into the car with Mariana and began stroking its long bony fingers through her hair saying all the while in the voice of a corpse "How pretty..how pretty..how pretty". She wanted to puke and get away from it but - then Rat Baby Face opened its mouth and bit into her neck.
Mariana woke up blinking away tears. She swallowed and took in a deep breath through her nose, somewhat rocking back and forth, but otherwise totally immobilized.
That's when she heard Baby Face snoring. That's also when she noticed the bathroom out of the very furthest edge of her peripheral vision.
Mariana knew what she had to do.