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It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but this troll had found my real identity and linked the porn page to my personal Twitter account.It was the same account that I used for work at a tech startup with an all-male team. Once at the office I ducked into a conference room with the privacy of frosted glass and pulled up an incognito window on my work machine.Every day, they put their money behind their words.The way her chin set forward, like cut from stone, she was the confidence I put on each morning, costumed in five-dollar aviators and halter tops bought in Koreatown. I loved Jesus like the good Mormon girl I was raised to be.In ninth grade, I cried when I got a B- in Chemistry because it wasn’t straight As. A., I couldn’t afford a car so I took the bus, carrying a dog-eared copy of Fahrenheit 451 everywhere I went.
I became her for a while until she led me into a car crash, a meth addiction, and Manny, an abusive boyfriend who was kind in that he bought me foundation that matched my skin when he left me with black eyes.There was “Trained Teens 3,” the movie that helped me buy my first car, a red convertible that made me feel so L. My skin prickled as I remembered how I’d kept the top down so I could see the palm trees, even when the wind gave my skinny arms goosebumps. But then I couldn’t find a job doing anything else.It had been my ride to anonymous mansions in the Valley where the cold hands of spray-tanned dudes would slam my hips on top of their dicks. The endless rejection after rounds of casting calls for bit parts in TV pilots that never got picked up anyway mixed with a bank account that always seemed to be plummeting weighed heavy.She’d giggle as cameramen slapped her ass, the giggle proof that they couldn’t harm her. I got 100-percent attendance for four years of Bible school and kept my teal four-in-one scripture set by the side of my bed.I marked it full with transparent stickers, pink highlighter and tiny notes carefully scrawled in my best handwriting along the margins.
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I pushed the pedestrian walk button at the traffic stop 12 times in quick succession. Before I hit the big red “Report” button, I paused and scrolled through the pictures.