Chapter 3Reaper Butterfly

Whether his wife was human or not, shouldn't a husband know best?

In Dexter's mind, he had already labeled this user as a troll.

The guy just saw that beating women generated traffic and wanted to create a viral gimmick to piggyback off the clout.

Dexter figured he might as well play along and scam the guy out of his ten superchats first.

He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me across the hallway, throwing me onto the bathroom tiles.

He slammed the door shut, locking us inside, and gave the camera a contemptuous smirk.

"Look at this. Have you ever seen a man-eating butterfly look this pathetic?"

The chat was spamming laughing emojis. They started a countdown, waiting for Dexter to force me under the water.

I looked up at my battered, bruised reflection in the mirror.

Ever since Dexter became a millionaire streamer off the back of domestic abuse, I made sure to encourage him.

Every time he hit me, I would cry and tell him to hit me harder.

With every impact, invisible scales fluttering with a pearlescent glow fell from my body. He inhaled every single speck of it into his lungs.

The more he breathed in, the closer he got to becoming my personal puppet.

I was squatting on the floor, pretending to scrub the tiles, just like normal.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my scalp. Dexter was dragging me toward the tub.

His phone screen was completely covered in notifications. Digital cars, yachts, and diamond rings were flashing endlessly, as if money meant nothing.

He was completely blinded by the viral fame. He grabbed my wrists and shoved me hard against the cold porcelain.

"Hurry up! Take a shower for the camera!"