At first, the viewers thought it was all part of the show. They flooded the stream with tips and super chats, thinking it was some kind of horror-themed performance.

It wasn't until the platform abruptly shut the stream down that people realized something was terribly wrong.

Monica Barnes was dead.

I was there when it happened.

We had applied for the job together when they were recruiting new streamers.

Streaming was just taking off back then.

The company was mostly hiring pretty girls and dressing them in barely-there outfits.

The job? Dance provocatively or flirt with rich viewers, giggling into the camera and playing the cute girl act.

Monica, with her stunning looks, stood out instantly.

I, unsurprisingly, didn't make the cut.

She comforted me at the time, saying maybe it was a blessing in disguise. The industry was chaotic anyway.

But not long after, she was constantly busy, and her clothes changed from budget fashion to high-end designer brands.

Out of curiosity, I looked her up on the platform, and found out she had over a million followers.

Whenever we spoke, there was always this smugness in her voice, this barely-hidden contempt.

Still, we'd been friends for years.

So when I got laid off and couldn't make my mortgage payments, she reached out and offered to help.

Monica asked me to be her assistant streamer.

Basically, I was there to make her look better, just a background prop.

Compared to her, I was plain-looking. That contrast only made her shine brighter.

On and off camera, she bossed me around, used me, drained me.

By that point, our friendship had already changed into something else.

But the pay was good. Too good to walk away from easily.

However, I wasn't giving up. I was preparing to apply for a steady government job in the city.

Once I made it, I planned to quit this life for good, and cut ties with her.

To keep growing, Monica leaned into a niche— seductive horror.

It sounded like a clever brand strategy. But really, it was just skimpy outfits in creepy locations—ghost towns, abandoned hospitals, supposed haunted houses. Singing. Dancing. Pretending to be scared. Acting cute.

At first, her team didn't believe in the concept. But Monica got lucky.

Around that time, viral trends like "haunted car drifting" and "graveyard raves" started blowing up online. Her content hit the zeitgeist perfectly.

The first few streams raked in views like crazy.

But things were never going to stay smooth forever.

After several ghost hunts, we finally ran into something we couldn't laugh off.

That morning, I already had a bad feeling when I left the house. An unshakable sense of dread weighed on me.

Monica was slipping into a pair of black stockings, tossing me a mocking glance. "If you're this scared, why even bother trying to make money?" she said.

I didn't respond.

I had grown numb to her constant jabs and snide remarks.

She was wearing a tight black mini skirt paired with garter stockings.

The sharp contrast between her pale thighs and the dark nylons made her look stunning, almost unreal.

The place we were heading to was out in the middle of nowhere. There had been a murder there just last month.

According to insider talk, the crime scene hadn't even been fully cleaned up.

No rideshare driver wanted to take the job. Every request I made was instantly canceled.

"No wonder you're still broke. You can't even handle something this simple. What else are you even good at? Is that why your boyfriend dumped you? Because you're dumb?"

As the livestream time crept closer, Monica grew more anxious. Her words got sharper by the minute.

I was just as stressed, staring at my phone screen, praying for some miracle.

And somehow, maybe answering that silent prayer, a taxi slowly rolled up in front of us.

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