Primo Albricci Goes To Sleep

i

// Unedited //

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

This phrase has never in my life been more relevant than it is right now. I mean, I'm not in a life or death type of situation, but it feels like I am. I just need a job. I need to get of my parent's house. It's not like they're abusive or anything like that, but . . . I don't want to get into it.

I've moved from my bedroom to the guest house since I graduated high school three weeks ago, but I just can't stand to live in their home anymore. I've already told them―well, I've told my father's secretary―that I'm planning to leave and don't want any of their money.

It's been extremely hard finding a job, though. I'm pretty sure I've applied to over fifty positions, but I've only received one call back. Sadly, I blew the interview. Apparently a girl freshly out of high school with no experience who's completely unaware of the "the customer's always right" concept isn't what the sushi restaurant downtown is looking for.

I run my hands down my face in complete anguish. What do I do? I type "can't get a job what to do" into the Google search bar, feeling so totally drained. I click on the first thing that pops up. A woman writes about how she absolutely can't find a job and somebody gives her some friendly advice and suggests a list of sites to visit to continue her job search.

I sigh when I realize I've visited every website listed . . . except Craigslist. I cringe at the thought of people still visiting that website. Come on, people! Have we all forgotten about the countless murders that couldn't have panned out without this website? Or how about the infamous Craigslist killer?

But then I see the woman's response. She thanks the man for his advice, and alerts everyone that she's found a job through Craigslist. Hmm. Maybe I can actually find a job through this site? The chances I get brutally murdered are very slim. Right? Whatever! I'm desperate. I just won't click on any of the shady entries.

As a last resort I type Craigslist.com in the address bar. Soon I'm scrolling through a number of job offers. I do a search of every franchise and company before I apply and don't look twice at entries such as foot model needed―we'll come to you! and live-in masseuse at nudist bed & breakfast.

I'm about to shut my computer when I catch sight of a very interesting entry. Russian-English Speaking Waitress-slash-Translator―Donnie Fontana's. No way. I click on the entry for more information. College degree not needed, full time or part time, flexible hours. I'm about to Google them for more information when I see that the starting salary is twenty dollars an hour. With no prior experience needed! I click the "apply here" button in a heartbeat.

I fill in all of my information: full name, home address, social security number, and cell phone number. I've been filling out so many applications lately that it feels like second nature. I finish in less than five minutes and submit it with a large smile in my face and anticipation dancing in my stomach. Then, out of nowhere, my MacBook goes completely black.

"What the?" I press random letters on the keyboard. Seriously?! This computer is as good as new. Ugh, of course it would chose now to break down.

I'm on the verge of tears, pressing random keys, when a large buffer signal appears on the screen. Now I'm truly baffled. This has never happened to me before? I look with furrowed eyebrows at the screen as it begins to load. All anger and frustration is replaced by pure confusion.

15% . . . 42% . . . 69% . . . 83% . . . 99%.

Once it's at one hundred percent the screen flashes back on. God, I knew I should've never went on this sketchy website! I start banging on my keyboard and clicking on the power button but to no avail. I'm about to explode when the computer revives. The screen flashes "Primo Albricci Goes To Sleep" in white text before a black-and-white video begins playing. It looks like it was filmed in relative darkness with some sort of night vision camera.

In the video an average height man, dressed in all black walks around a seemingly empty house. He searches around the living room for a few minutes before disappearing off screen. The camera then flashes to a different scene―this time the same man is seen in a large kitchen. Suddenly a realization comes to me: this looks like home security footage. I've seen our security footage once or twice and it's looked just like this. I pay attention to the little details, and I'm able to write off the home in this video as any house I've been in. Thank God.

The man in the video pours himself a glass of some unidentifiable alcohol and chugs it down. The screen then goes black, and reappears once more. The time in the bottom left changes from 14:52 to 15:33, and the scene shifts from the kitchen to a large bedroom. The French doors are wide open and wind ruffles the thick curtains. A man and woman dressed in nightwear are sitting on the foot of the bed, hands and feet bound with what looks like rope and single strips of duct tape muffle their cries. The man from earlier stands before them, holding a gun in front of their faces. I gasp as I watch tears stream down this old couple's face. This . . . It can't be real, right?

In the blink of an eye, the man releases a single bullet in the direction of the woman. Right in her head. She falls back immediately. I cover a whimper with my hand. Man #2 seems to start weeping harder and I am so grateful this is a silent film. He squirms and wiggles, desperate to touch the now dead woman lying next to him, blood getting on him in the process. Man #1 watches him, a smile on his deranged face, before finally shooting Man #2.

Oh my God?

The computer flashes the clip from different angles, and I relive the gory scenario over and over again until the computer goes black. I think its over when the screen turns on again. The caption at the top left corner says "14-Year-Old Girl Loses Virginity to 31-Year-Old Boyfriend." What the hell!

The video begins and I try turning it off once more but it's still not freaking working! Finally, I just slam the laptop screen shut, but I can still hear the . . . noises. Sheesh. I toss the laptop against the wall of the dining room and stomp on it with my boot. Extreme, I know, but it works. I think it's broken, but I couldn't care less. The only thing I want to know is what just happened?!

I pace back and forth in the empty dining room, silently promising myself that I'll never go on Craigslist ever again in my life! That first video couldn't have been real, could it? The way the blood and brains splattered out of the victims' skulls . . . I don't know. Something about it looked so real. But it couldn't have been. It couldn't―

My thoughts are interrupted by a phone call.