Money is something that can make us do crazy things out of desperation. It could be anything from dangerous and fatal to back stabbing and betrayal. Often landing you in places far worse than where you had begun. Following this, let me ask, what would you do if you desperately needed money?
It had been about a week since I lost my job. It was unfair how it happened, someone hating me there just enough to hide drugs in my hung up jacket and telling my boss that I was the one that brought them in. I had begged them to check the cameras but they refused, saying the cameras inside didn't actually work. I was furious. But after leaving that day and turning in my uniform, I wasn't thinking about revenge, I was instead thinking about how I was going to pay my rent. The pay period hadn't started but a few days ago, meaning there's no way I could afford rent. It'd probably only hold less then $200 on it. I'd need at least twice that.
In the passing days, I'd put in applications and called back every workplace in town, only to be told they 'weren't looking to hire at this time'. It was at this point I was desperately reaching out to friends and family, anyone that might be able to spot me some money, or at least let me know of a place that was hiring. My sister made mention of a bar, but I was too unfamiliar with my liquor to figure out what I would be doing there.
Eventually, I got in contact with a friend of mine I hadn't talked to in almost a year. He was my last attempt at making money. He know some underground people, claiming he had connections to the black market. It was a terrible idea, but I figured I could sell a kidney, or something on me that I could live without. It was a dark stretch, but I don't think I could survive going homeless. I would have nowhere to go if I got kicked out of my apartment.
He and I talked on the phone for a while, catching up on things. He'd heard about my money situation, I was unsure how, but he had a solution that sounded almost painless and even less sketchy than selling an organ. He mentioned selling plasma. He told me he does it all the time for a little extra money. I asked him where we could go to get it done and he mentioned having a little set-up in his basement. I was a little hesitant to this idea at first, but he told me it was safe, he'd be monitoring it the entire time, and that he had done it for several other people. He seemed like he knew what he was doing. He followed it up, saying that if anything went wrong, he'd pay the rest of my rent that I couldn't. That pretty much had me sold right away.
I'd finally made it to his house. It looked a bit small on the inside, a set of stairs just behind the front door that lead upstairs. Beside the staircase, there was a living room that looked a bit small on first glance. A green sofa sitting across from a decent sized flat screen television. He lead me past the living room to a door just inside the kitchen. Everything looked pretty neat inside, like he was cleaning up for visitors. He lead me downstairs into a dark basement. The basement steps creaked beneath my feet as he turned the basement lights on just behind me. It looked more like a storage room than anything, with boxes and totes packed to one side of the room.
The only clear space was the recliner against the far wall with a strange machine that was hooked to a hospital blood bag, only the bag was empty, waiting to be filled. It wasn't until he asked me to sit down that it really started to sink in what I was about to do. It all felt a little sketchy, but I remembered what he promised me, saying he'd pay my rent if anything went wrong. It made me feel somewhat safe.
I saw him take a needle out of a drawer next to the machine and hooked it up to a clear tube by the blood bag.
"Don't worry, I made sure it was clean," he assured me. "Now, this may sting a little."
A sharp pain shot through my arm as he jammed the needle into my arm. If he hadn't had a good hold of my arm, I would have jerked the needle completely out of me. Finally, it was in. He taped the needle down and turned on the machine. It wasn't as loud as I thought it would be, letting out a soft whirring sound. I could feel a slight suction as my blood began to fill the tube. I saw him press a few buttons on the machine and he finally turned to face me.
"Okay, I have the machine set to turn off automatically in about ten minutes. It'll beep at me so I know when to come turn the machine off and unhook you," he said.
"Wait, I thought you said you'd stay down here with me," I said. "You're making it sound like you aren't."
"Look, I'm babysitting my cousin. I can't leave him alone upstairs for ten minutes. If you want to be let go early, yell for me. Nothing will go wrong, I promise. I've done this dozens of times," he assured me. "I'm not leaving the house and I'll hear the beeping from upstairs."
I had to let him go. What choice did I have after all? After he left to go upstairs, I began to feel a little drowsy. I knew I hadn't had much sleep in the past couple days, stressing out about my rent and all. I figured if I was going to have to wait ten minutes, I might as well sleep. If anything, I'll be woken up to him unhooking me from the machine.
I drifted off, but it felt the moment I shut my eyes, the machine was beeping. Had it been ten minutes already? I looked up to the blood bag, it was pretty full. Why did I still feel it sucking blood out of me?
I rolled over to sit up, or at least I tried. I couldn't move. I tried screaming out but I couldn't even get my mouth to move. My heart began to race as I realized what was happening. This was sleep paralysis. I'd never experienced it myself, but I'd read into it a while back. This was the worst possible time to be having it.
I tried rolling over, moving my arms, curling my toes, anything I could grasp onto to kick me completely awake. It was no use. All I could do was wait to see if anyone would come to my rescue.
It had been about a week since I lost my job. It was unfair how it happened, someone hating me there just enough to hide drugs in my hung up jacket and telling my boss that I was the one that brought them in. I had begged them to check the cameras but they refused, saying the cameras inside didn't actually work. I was furious. But after leaving that day and turning in my uniform, I wasn't thinking about revenge, I was instead thinking about how I was going to pay my rent. The pay period hadn't started but a few days ago, meaning there's no way I could afford rent. It'd probably only hold less then $200 on it. I'd need at least twice that.
In the passing days, I'd put in applications and called back every workplace in town, only to be told they 'weren't looking to hire at this time'. It was at this point I was desperately reaching out to friends and family, anyone that might be able to spot me some money, or at least let me know of a place that was hiring. My sister made mention of a bar, but I was too unfamiliar with my liquor to figure out what I would be doing there.
Eventually, I got in contact with a friend of mine I hadn't talked to in almost a year. He was my last attempt at making money. He know some underground people, claiming he had connections to the black market. It was a terrible idea, but I figured I could sell a kidney, or something on me that I could live without. It was a dark stretch, but I don't think I could survive going homeless. I would have nowhere to go if I got kicked out of my apartment.
He and I talked on the phone for a while, catching up on things. He'd heard about my money situation, I was unsure how, but he had a solution that sounded almost painless and even less sketchy than selling an organ. He mentioned selling plasma. He told me he does it all the time for a little extra money. I asked him where we could go to get it done and he mentioned having a little set-up in his basement. I was a little hesitant to this idea at first, but he told me it was safe, he'd be monitoring it the entire time, and that he had done it for several other people. He seemed like he knew what he was doing. He followed it up, saying that if anything went wrong, he'd pay the rest of my rent that I couldn't. That pretty much had me sold right away.
I'd finally made it to his house. It looked a bit small on the inside, a set of stairs just behind the front door that lead upstairs. Beside the staircase, there was a living room that looked a bit small on first glance. A green sofa sitting across from a decent sized flat screen television. He lead me past the living room to a door just inside the kitchen. Everything looked pretty neat inside, like he was cleaning up for visitors. He lead me downstairs into a dark basement. The basement steps creaked beneath my feet as he turned the basement lights on just behind me. It looked more like a storage room than anything, with boxes and totes packed to one side of the room.
The only clear space was the recliner against the far wall with a strange machine that was hooked to a hospital blood bag, only the bag was empty, waiting to be filled. It wasn't until he asked me to sit down that it really started to sink in what I was about to do. It all felt a little sketchy, but I remembered what he promised me, saying he'd pay my rent if anything went wrong. It made me feel somewhat safe.
I saw him take a needle out of a drawer next to the machine and hooked it up to a clear tube by the blood bag.
"Don't worry, I made sure it was clean," he assured me. "Now, this may sting a little."
A sharp pain shot through my arm as he jammed the needle into my arm. If he hadn't had a good hold of my arm, I would have jerked the needle completely out of me. Finally, it was in. He taped the needle down and turned on the machine. It wasn't as loud as I thought it would be, letting out a soft whirring sound. I could feel a slight suction as my blood began to fill the tube. I saw him press a few buttons on the machine and he finally turned to face me.
"Okay, I have the machine set to turn off automatically in about ten minutes. It'll beep at me so I know when to come turn the machine off and unhook you," he said.
"Wait, I thought you said you'd stay down here with me," I said. "You're making it sound like you aren't."
"Look, I'm babysitting my cousin. I can't leave him alone upstairs for ten minutes. If you want to be let go early, yell for me. Nothing will go wrong, I promise. I've done this dozens of times," he assured me. "I'm not leaving the house and I'll hear the beeping from upstairs."
I had to let him go. What choice did I have after all? After he left to go upstairs, I began to feel a little drowsy. I knew I hadn't had much sleep in the past couple days, stressing out about my rent and all. I figured if I was going to have to wait ten minutes, I might as well sleep. If anything, I'll be woken up to him unhooking me from the machine.
I drifted off, but it felt the moment I shut my eyes, the machine was beeping. Had it been ten minutes already? I looked up to the blood bag, it was pretty full. Why did I still feel it sucking blood out of me?
I rolled over to sit up, or at least I tried. I couldn't move. I tried screaming out but I couldn't even get my mouth to move. My heart began to race as I realized what was happening. This was sleep paralysis. I'd never experienced it myself, but I'd read into it a while back. This was the worst possible time to be having it.
I tried rolling over, moving my arms, curling my toes, anything I could grasp onto to kick me completely awake. It was no use. All I could do was wait to see if anyone would come to my rescue.
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