Cash in Hand

I have decided to end it all. I have nothing else to live for.

I'm being evicted at the end of my lease. I still haven't been able to get a job. My ex-wife won't let me see my kids. I can't even write any more.

I doubt anybody will miss me, with the exception of my children. This is the sum total of my life thus far: these words, spoken blindly to an uncaring Internet.

He hit the post button and sat back.
He was going to do it. He just didn't know when.
Bob unscrewed the lid from the half drunk bottle of rum and took a swig. Maybe he'd do it once the bottle was empty.
He debated turning the laptop monitor off but decided not to. He couldn't face the thought of seeing himself reflected so starkly: A fat, hairy middle aged man, sodden with booze and regret. Pathetic.
The laptop made a ding sound, and he leaned forward. Someone had messaged him.

Don't kill yourself

He chuckled, but there was no humour in it. He checked the URL. One of his mutuals. An English woman about his own age, from what he had read on her bio. Mysterious sort.

He put down the bottle and typed a reply.

The decision is already made, I'm afraid. Thanks anyway.

He picked the bottle up again, but before he'd had chance to take a sip there was another message.

What if I could help you?

He shook his head. She was well meaning, he guessed, but all the good wishes in the world wouldn't help him now.

Unless you have money and the inclination to pay off my debts, which I very much doubt, there's not much you can do. But again: Thanks anyway.

I have money.

Bob paused. This had to be some kind of scam.

And you're willing to pay off the debts of a complete stranger? I find that hard to believe. Why would you do that?

It's what I do. No point in me having all this money and not using it to help people.

Bob screwed the lid back onto the bottle. He needed to be sober for this.

Why?

Why not?

Have you done this before?

Yes. Lots of times. I like to help people.

Bob squinted at the URL again. violet-hypertension. He clicked on her blog and skimmed through it. He wasn't sure what he was looking for - it was unlikely he'd find a post along the lines of It's great being rich! - but he looked anyway. She liked forests and baby animals and dark humour. She was pro-choice. She hated mint.
Nothing useful.

Are you still there?

Yes. How did you get your money anyway? Is it inherited?

I'm an author. I've made quite a good living from it.

Would I have read any of your books?

I don't know. I write under a pseudonym and I'm not telling you what it is.

A horrible suspicion came over him.

You're not JK Rowling are you?

That's hilarious!
No.
I'm not.

Bob breathed a sigh of relief. He'd written a particularly blistering post about JK recently.

So do you want the money or not? I'll transfer it right now. Do you have a PayPal? How much do you need?