Confessions of A Serial Scammer

Maxine Powell is a serial scammer. She just never thought that it would get that bad. Once she meets Christopher Thompson, she gets in over her head, and she knows that she can't go back.

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5. 15 June

15 June

I'm terrified.

It would've been a great first day, but then I tried to message Lindsay. Michael was livid. He took my phone and smashed it against the wall. Then he picked it up again and snapped it in half. I just stood their looking at him, because I had no clue he was so strong.

"Don't ever try and contact anyone," he snarled at me. I could only nod, but I wondered how else am I supposed to contact anyone.Then he just changed. His hands were suddenly all over me and he was murmuring into my ear. "Come to bed with me," he said. But I said no; I was way too riled up. But then his hands closed around my wrists. "Come NOW," he ordered. I obeyed him, because I was too scared to do otherwise.

He dragged me into bed and tried to tug on my shirt. "No," I whispered, but he heard me.

"Lighten up Max," he murmured against me neck. "You're as stiff as a board. It feels like kissing a statue." He continued to touch me, but I whimpered with every touch. Finally, he gave up. "You'd better be ready tomorrow," he hissed at me, angrily. I laid in bed, to afraid to move. "I'm going to go buy some groceries," Michael announced. "Don't leave." Where was I going to go?

The second he left, I bolted out the door. I was scared, and I had no clue where I was going. Then I felt arms being thrown around me. I would've screamed, but a hand was put over my mouth. Michael dragged me back into the flat.

"I told you not to leave," he growled at me. I bit his hand, hard, fighting back tears. I felt him flinch, but his hand stayed firmly around my mouth. I felt his blood seep into my mouth. I tried to kick him, but I kept missing. He threw me on the couch and I stayed, curled up in a ball; crying. "I told you not to leave!" he roared. "Why would you even try and go out?"

I glared at him. "To get away from you!" I screamed at him, my voice hoarse. He laughed bitterly.

"Like it's going to be easier out there?" he said, acid seeping into his voice. "You hate it out there! You know you do!" He looked at me for a second in silence. "You're a wanted girl anyways." I felt my heart drop.

"What?"

"You're wanted for the Psychic Scam you tried to pull off," he said, as if it was the norm around here. "Don't you read the news?" He threw a newspaper at me from the coffee table. I looked at the headliner. "American Girl Scamming Hundreds of People" in big bold letters, along with my high school picture, screamed at me. I couldn't speak; I was too stunned. The thing is, I never pulled off that scam. Why? Because I never did it. "You don't care though. You've always wanted to get out of there." Michael said, conversationally.

"How would you know?" I screamed through my tears. "How would you know anything about me?"

"You told me," Michael said. He looked at me in close scrutiny. "You told me everything."

"When?" I cried. "When would I ever tell you anything?" Michael was silent.

"You don't remember me, do you?" he said, quietly.

"From the bar?" I demanded. "Of course I remember you from there! And I'm pretty sure I wasn't drunk enough to tell you my life story!" Tears streamed down cheeks.

"That wasn't the first time we met," Michael said. "You know who I am."

"No I don't!" I screamed. "I just know that you're Michael!"

"You mean you don't remember Christopher Thompson from the University?" My heart dropped to my toes. I did. "You don't remember telling Christopher to get you away from your family?" I stared at him, not able to produce words from my mouth. "Max, I've always known who you were, and you've always known who I was. We fell in love, remember?" He looked into my frightened face.

"Max, I'm Christopher."

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