Emily's phone vibrated on the kitchen counter as she poured milk over her cereal. The screen lit up with a notification from the photography app: *"Backup complete - 4,732 new media files"*. She chewed slowly, swiping to see the thumbnails—images of intertwined bodies, open mouths, torn clothes. Some had timestamps from last night. Others, from five minutes ago.
On the living room sofa, Ana slept naked, legs spread, a still-fresh damp stain between her thighs. Diana dozed on the floor, wrapped in a rug, her wrists still bound with pink tape. Eve and Ai were on the balcony, washing the "office" clothes in the washing machine—or rather, *the only clothes they still had*.
Emily picked up the remote and turned up the TV volume. The local news was reporting on four missing women—a secretary, an administrative assistant, an intern, and a junior manager—all from the same company. Their professional photos showed restrained smiles, impeccable blazers, and tied-back hair. *So different*, Emily thought, comparing them to the creatures with hardened nipples and trembling thighs who now shared her apartment.
"—Any information, please contact the police," the reporter said.
Emily's phone rang. It was Chris, or "Christina Müller," according to the nameplate in the news report.
"Hi, Em! Did you see the TV? They're looking for us!" Chris said, her voice unusually cheerful. "But it's okay, I already explained to my boss that I changed careers. He even thought it was normal!"
Emily laughed, crushing the cereal flakes with her spoon. "Of course he did. Where are you now?"
"In your bed, waiting for you to come back. Did you bring that colleague you asked for—the blonde from HR? She's in the shower now. I think she'll like the surprise..."
Hanging up, Emily looked at the computer screen. The open spreadsheet listed names, addresses, preferences. The next victim—*"participant"*, she corrected herself—was scheduled for today at 2 PM. A corporate lawyer with a weakness for younger women. *Easy.*
In the kitchen, the coffee machine finished brewing with a click. Emily poured herself a cup of coffee, adding three spoonfuls of sugar. The sweetness slid down the dark liquid like her thoughts—voracious, insatiable, *normal*.
After all, that was all that mattered now.
*Normal.*
*That's how it should be.*
*That's how it's always been.*
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