Chapter Twenty-Seven: Get Out of Here, Moid.

He shut down. What little momentum he’d had was gone. His anger drained away. So did his sadness. So did everything. There were no feelings left inside of him. 

He slept. 

In bed, he didn’t have to think about it. He slept until his body ached from the long stagnant hours. Atrophy. He felt himself atrophy. 

“Irresponsible of you to quit that job,” his mom continually chided. “Over a little facebook drama? What are you, a teenage girl?”

He stayed in the basement as much as he could. He couldn’t stand to be around her. 

She’d taken everything from him so easily, and sometimes he thought maybe he should have gone back to work, should have faced her and everyone. But believe all women. She labeled him a monster, and so, he was. 

Waking in the late afternoon, he burned away the night hours on reddit. On 4chan. On incels.co. He stopped being so shocked by what the incels said. It made sense to him now. Women really were evil, and it wasn’t misogynistic to say so, it was the truth. Reading about the blackpill, immersing himself in blackpill science, he realized why Becca had done what she did. Why she’d hurt him. She’d done it to get Josh’s attention. Josh had been one of many Chads on her facebook post feigning outrage at what Becca said Adam had done. Fucking slut. She was probably gagging on Josh’s cock now. Women were hypergamous whores. They’d do anything to get a Chad. Becca wasn’t any Stacey. Ironically enough, she was a high-tier Becky. Her name suited her. Beckys were especially insecure about their own sexual marketplace value. They would do anything to get an advantage. In Becca’s case, that had meant throwing a low value male to the wolves. She’d done it to instigate mate-guarding. Even a douchebag like Josh had that primitive male instinct to protect females. Becca had leveraged that to force a pair bond. If the fucking hole even could still pair bond. 

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Here and there, he searched for a new job. He considered using this shitshow as an opportunity to make a big change. Maybe get into some kind of an office job. He quickly became deflated. He didn’t even know how to search for an office job. All kinds of words assaulted him from the Indeed and Glassdoor job listing. Administrative. Coordinator. Analyst. Adam hadn’t a clue what any of it meant. He tried searching ‘entry-level.’ All of the jobs that came back wanted three to five years of experience. For entry level? 

What was he going to do? What was he going to do? If he kept on sleeping, he didn’t have to think about it. He’d keep on sleeping. He didn’t know how to think about it. 

Weeks turned into months. Fall turned into winter. 

He slept. He scrolled reddit. He lurked on incels.co. 

He started posting regularly on r/incelswithouthate. He found out they allowed female mods. He stopped posting. 

He posted on r/foreveralonedating. Nobody responded. 

There were only about three female posters for every hundred male posters. Forever alone. Women couldn’t be forever alone. Not really. The ones that couldn’t be with Chad would rather be alone. He realized this when he found the femcels. 

Finding the femcel subs on reddit, he felt a flaring of hope. If there were women in his situation…If women could feel the same….Maybe the blackpill was bullshit. Maybe he could pull himself together. Maybe he could….maybe he would….

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“Get out of here, moid. Didn’t you read the sidebar? No ‘be my gf’ posts.”

“I didn’t ask anyone to be my girlfriend. I was trying to talk to you guys. You’re lonely like me. Right?”

“Not lonely enough to talk to an incel. You dumbfucks can keep chasing Stacey. We all know you’d all fricking castrate yourselves for one whiff of her pussy. But when you can’t get that, you come over here thinking ugly women will be easy. Nobody here wants your sad micro-dick. We’d rather be alone than be YOUR last resort.”

“You’re full of shit. I don’t go after hot women. I go after average women. I barely ever even did that, because I know none of them want me.”

“Well, we aren’t average and we don’t want you either. Femcels come here to cope together and live in peace. We’re not here to play mommy to batshit crazy incel fuckheads. Go plan your next mass shooting.”

And that was when he lost it on her. He knew he shouldn’t do it, but it felt good, so….so good to dig into her. In a flurry of fingers pounding dirty keys, he spewed every nasty thing at her that he could think of. He repeated things he’d read on .co, braincels. Said anything he thought might hurt her. 

He felt better when he did that. He felt better….no….no, he didn’t. Not really. 

Nothing was ever going to make this better. 

The days blurred together. Sleeping, waking, pissing, jerking off, posting on reddit. This was his life now. He existed. He consumed. He coomed. Fucking worthless. 

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Chuck came down to the basement sometimes. 

“Everybody forgot about Becca’s meltdown. Ask Dick if you can have your job back.”

“No.”

“C’mon, everybody figured out she’s fucking nuts. She cries in the breakroom every other day. That cute, shy act hit the dust pretty quick.”

Adam only shook his head. “I’m not gonna work at the same store as her. I won’t work with people who think I’d do that.”

“Nobody actually thinks you did it. You remember that chick, Emily?”

“Huh?”

“You used to work with her.”

“And?”

“She kept telling people she thought Becca was lying. Caught hell for it from some of the women on the front end.”

“Thought you said nobody believed I did it.”

“Oh….well, I guess….I mean, the people who don’t know you…”

“I’m never going back there.”

He rotted. 

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Those new clothes he’d bought all those months ago in September, they remained in a heap on the floor. Unworn. One rainy night, round about two in the morning, he couldn’t find a sock nearby. He grabbed one of those nice new polos that he’d chosen with such care. Maybe a girl will think I’m handsome in this. He wadded it up and wiped up his mess. He threw it back on the floor. He’d never worn it once. 

It continued this way. 

It continued this way. 

It kept going. 

This way. 

Until the second week in December. Adam only knew the approximate date because Chuck had stopped in the night before. Brought him a nice big bag of McDonald’s and said, “They probably aren’t going skiing this year.”

Adam didn’t have to ask who he meant. “Probably not. They’d be packing for it already.”

“Surprised Mom isn’t having a cow. They always go.”

Shrugging, Adam bit into his quarter pounder. “Watch her give the old guy hell for it.”

“Yeah…” Chuck sighed. “Those two aren’t doing good.”

But Adam had no idea of how bad it was and he was the only one home when it all went down. Chris was at school. Chuck was at work. And up above, Mom and Dad talked about divorce. 

Really, Mom was the one who talked. 

I can’t do this anymore. I haven’t felt anything in a long time. I want to be with someone who is alive. You never get up off that couch. 

If she’d fucking get off his back for a second, maybe Dad wouldn’t be so beaten down that he couldn’t bear to get off the couch, that he needed the glow of the television screen to feel numb. Because numb was as close to okay as it got. 

Bev, we can talk about this. You think I can’t find another job?

It’s not about that. 

Fucking bitch. Of course it’s about that. 

You really filed already….you did all of this. 

I think you should go stay with your sister. It will be better for everyone. Let’s make this as easy as possible.  Adam left through the garage door. He couldn’t listen to another second of it.

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