ℐ 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝓰 𝓉ℴ 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉ℯ 𝒶 𝓅ℴℯ𝓂, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒾𝓂ℯ ℐ 𝓉𝒽ℴ𝓊𝓰𝒽𝓉 ℴ𝒻 𝓈ℴ𝓂ℯ𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓰 𝒷ℯ𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁, 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝒸ℯ 𝓰ℴ𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓌𝒶𝓎. 𝒮ℴ 𝓃ℴ𝓌, 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉ℯ𝒶𝒹 ℴ𝒻 𝓅ℴℯ𝓉𝓇𝓎, 𝒶𝓁𝓁 ℐ 𝒽𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝒽ℯ𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌ℴ𝓃'𝓉 𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅 𝓇𝒶𝒸𝒾𝓃𝓰 𝓌𝒽ℯ𝓃 𝓎ℴ𝓊'𝓇ℯ 𝓃ℯ𝒶𝓇.
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Paranoia
It started with a text.
A number.
A job that paid too much for doing nothing at all.
All she had to do was li...
