I wasn’t always this pretty. I was seriously overweight for my size. I weighed over two hundred and fifty pounds by the time I turned twenty. My sister would always tell me I needed to do something before it was too late. She would suggest different diets and different programs to help me lose weight. It was depressing and my self-esteem was nonexistent. I had come to the realization that I would never live a normal life, not like I was. I’d also never have a boyfriend like all the other girls did. I spent my time looking at photos of models online, wishing I could one day look like they did. I was hopeless, until the day that I wasn’t.
As my twenty-first birthday approached, I made the decision to lose all my weight and become the person I most dreamed of becoming. My mom and my sister were my biggest supporters. They never gave up on me, and after a year of hard work and dedication I had lost over one hundred and twenty pounds. I was now the ideal weight for someone my height. I could now shop in the stores that other girls my age shopped in. I was extremely happy with my transformation and was even happier when I met my very first boyfriend Cameron.
Cameron and I did everything together. I was so happy with the way my life was going. We moved into an expensive apartment building that I absolutely loved. I was no longer afraid or too self conscious to take photos of myself. I was proud of the way I looked, and I know Cameron was too. He constantly called me his hottie and often grew jealous when he saw other guys checking me out. This was all new territory for someone like me and I relished in it.
A year later I decided to try modeling. I wanted to be one of those pretty girls I admired in the magazines. My mom, sister and Cameron encouraged me to go for it, but there was only one problem. Portfolios cost money and I surely wasn’t making enough at my waitress job to cover the costs of photo shoots and travel. Cameron said he had an idea that might help me, but I may not like it. After a few months of consideration, I became a full-time escort.
“I don’t know,” my mom said, “isn’t that dangerous?” She asked me.
“No, it’s not, and it’s really good money, mom.” I told her. “I’m only going to do it long enough to make enough money to have a professional portfolio done and to pay for travel fees to photo shoots.” I explained.
“What does Cameron think about all this?” Mom asked.
“He’s fine with it. It was his idea. I’m going to use our apartment for my appointments and Cameron will be close by in case anything would happen.”
“Did you tell your sister?”
“Not yet,” I said, “but I will.”
“Well, I’m not going to pretend I like it, but just be careful, please. There are a lot of weirdos out there.”
“I will, mom, I promise. Everything will be okay.”
I knew my mom wasn’t happy with my new job. I knew my sister wouldn’t like it either, she would hate it, but I’m an adult and I can do what I want. I would be safe, and I had Cameron to protect me. I made an online profile and posted photos Cameron took of me while I posed. I was shocked at all the messages I received. All I saw was the money. If I had this many guys interested in me already there would be plenty of money coming in.
My first appointment was a bit scary and awkward, but I got through it. It really wasn’t that bad. The guy was older and mostly wanted to talk. We had dinner and I listened as he told me all his problems. Work, marriage, kids and his day-to-day life. I could tell he felt bad about being with me. By the end of the date, he never even asked for sex. He just simply wanted someone to listen. I would learn that he would become one of my regulars and he paid very well.
My second appointment was different. The guy came in and just wanted to have sex and leave right away. He was rough and not very attractive. He smelled of liquor and cigar smoke when he arrived. I got the vibe that he was not a nice man. I’ve met a few of these types over the next few months, but for the most part everything was going fine. I did have one date where I had to text Cameron to come up to the apartment. The client became violent, and was yelling, calling me names and breaking stuff. This was the first time I truly felt fear in what I was doing. Cameron raced into the apartment and yanked the guy by his shirt and threw him out the door. I was so relieved at how quickly it was over and done with. Cameron made me feel safe and I knew I could count on him.
Two days later I received a message from a younger guy. He went on and on about how beautiful I was and how much he liked my photos. He seemed nice and kind of reminded me of Cameron. This would be easy I thought. I set up the date for the next night. I gave him instructions to send me a message when he arrived at the apartment building and to wait for my reply. This allowed Cameron plenty of time to leave the apartment.
I was getting dressed when my mom called the next night. I had chosen my favorite red dress with matching lipstick and nail polish. It brought out my blonde hair and blue eyes.
“Can you talk?” My mom asked.
“No, I’m getting ready for work right now.” I told her. “I’ll call you back tomorrow,” I said and quickly hung up the phone before any lecturing could be done. Little did she know that would be the last time she would ever hear my voice.
I took one last look in the mirror and shut off the light. I gave Cameron a kiss and watched him leave the apartment. Twenty minutes later I received a message from my date. I told him the apartment number and waited for him to knock on the door.
When I opened the door, he wasn’t at all what I was expecting. He looked young and scruffy. He wore a torn baseball cap, a loose sweatshirt and cargo shorts. I closed the door behind him and lead him into the living room. I offered him a drink and told him to have a seat. As I poured his drink I sent Cameron a text with our secret code word, “Gud.” When I returned to the living room my date wasn’t there. Where did he go? I set the drink on the coffee table and went to look for him. The bedroom light was on, so he had to be in there. Upon entering the room, I was shoved hard against the bed. As I turned, I felt something sharp pierce my skin. I looked down and saw a large knife in his hand. I tried to scream, but he covered my mouth. He stabbed me again and again in my stomach. I crawled off the bed and tried to get to the bathroom, but he stabbed me again in the back. Over and over, I felt the burning pain of the knife slicing through my skin. He grabbed me by my ankles and pulled me back toward the bed. He picked me up and threw me on to the bed. He straddled my bloodied body and looked down at me. Carefully, he wiped my blood soaked blonde hair away from my eyes. He gripped the knife and stabbed me three more times in the chest. His face became blurry, and the room began to spin.
“Why-?” I cried. “Why are you doing this?” But he didn’t speak. Rage filled his eyes and through my blood-stained vision I swore they turned black. I felt sick, I felt depleted. I felt helpless. He raised the knife to my throat and his excitement grew as he slashed me one last time. I gasped and grabbed at my throat as he got up from the bed and stood in the doorway. He watched as I struggled to get up. I fell next to the nightstand. I closed my eyes as I choked and gasped for air. When I opened my eyes, he was no longer standing there. I was dying. I knew I was dying. I could feel it. It was hard to breathe as my throat filled up with blood. I was so tired. I just wanted to sleep.
Three hours later Cameron returned to the apartment. He had sent messages but received no response from me. He came into the room where my body lay lifeless and just stood there, staring. I couldn’t tell if he was scared, horrified, or upset. He just stood there. Finally, he picked up his phone and called 911.
“911 what’s your emergency?”
“My girlfriend’s been stabbed to death. There’s blood everywhere.”
I watched as the paramedics checked for a pulse and saw the look on their faces as they realized I was gone. I watched them lay my body in a long black bag. They zipped it closed before placing me on a stretcher. I watched as two detectives stood around Cameron in the living room, firing one question after another. He looked as though he was in shock.
“Did your girlfriend have any enemies? Anyone that wanted to hurt her?” The detective asked Cameron.
“No,” he said. “Everyone loved her. She was a nice girl. I don’t know why anyone would do this.”
“Where were you when this happened?” The short stout detective asked as he wrote in his little note pad.
“I was down the street at the bar. I was waiting for her to text me to let me know it was okay to come home, but she never did. I messaged her and she never responded.”
“Were you having some sort of a fight or argument? Why would you need to ask to come home?” The detective asked, raising a brow.
“We weren’t fighting. She was an-,” he stuttered. “She was an escort.”
“Yeah, she was meeting some guy.”
“You allow your girlfriend to date other guys?” The detectives looked at each other.
“It’s not like that. We had an agreement. She sent me a text saying she was good. That’s our code word.”
“Can anyone at the bar confirm you were there?” The detective asked. I watched as Cameron looked up at the lanky guy in disbelief.
“I’m sure they have cameras.” He exclaimed. “Look, I wouldn’t do this. I’m not capable of doing something like this. I loved her.” Cameron said, lowering his head into his hands.
“We’ll need you to come in to make a formal statement.” The detective said, closing his notebook.
I watched them wheel me out of the apartment I once lived and loved. I stood in the middle of the room as they all cleared out and left Cameron alone. He picked up his phone and dialed a number I couldn’t see. When the person answered he froze and at first couldn’t speak.
“Cameron,” I heard my mom say through the phone. “Hello?” She said again.
“Hell-,” his voice broke when he tried to speak.
“Cameron, what’s wrong?” She asked frantically.
“She’s dead. Someone killed her.” He said and dropped the phone from his ear. I heard my mom scream from the receiver. All I wanted was to pick up the phone and tell her I was okay. To assure her that I was fine, but I couldn’t. It was too late, and I was dead.
“Do we know where the boyfriend was?” The police chief asked.
“We confirmed that he was at the bar he said he was when the event took place. He was there from 7:00 to 9:30.”
“She was an escort, boss. This could’ve been any one of her clients.”
“Do we have her phone?”
“Yeah, but everything was deleted.”
“Forty times this girl was stabbed! This is overkill if I ever saw it. It had to be someone close to her. Someone that knew her.” The chief said.
“We can rule the boyfriend out, but maybe he had someone do it for him?” The detective asked.
“I guess it’s a possibility. I mean, what boyfriend lets his girl sleep with other guys and not get jealous?” The chief asked.
“So, a crime of passion then.”
“We have the video footage showing a guy entering the building at 7:15. Then we see him leave twenty-five minutes later. He didn’t even try to hide his face besides the sunglasses and hat he was wearing. He had one hand in his pocket. Maybe he injured himself and didn’t want anyone in the lobby to see?” The Chief questioned.
“The guy actually looks proud of what he just did. I mean, he’s walking so casually, like nothing even happened.”
“What does her mom and sister think?” The chief asked.
“The sister admitted that there was some arguing and jealousy between the victim and her boyfriend a few days before the incident, but she can’t be sure if he’s capable of doing something like this.”
“Let’s see if he’ll take a lie detector test. Let’s also contact the website she had her profile through and see if we can find her most recent messages and appointments. Other than that, we really don’t have much to go on.” The chief said.
“Will do. I wonder why she was an escort. I mean, a pretty girl like that could do anything she wanted.”
“It’s a damn shame. So young and so much life left to live. Snuffed out in an instant.” The chief said.
No one would ever know who took my life. My family would live with unbearable grief for years, waiting to hear that someone was going to be brought to justice. They would wonder what my last moments were like and how afraid I was. My sister would create a website with my photos asking for tips and would offer a reward for any information pertaining to my death. The local police would upload and release a screen shot of the man in the video footage but they wouldn’t receive any tips or information. My killer would remain unknown and free for years to come and most likely take the life of others.
Who do you think committed the murder?