I don’t think I’ve ever cared about a breathing thing throughout my whole life.

Sure, I had a family. But my mom was pretty much useless any time she wasn’t in the kitchen; my dad was a stupid drunk, and my dog annoyed the shit out of me.

I don’t give a fuck about anyone. I don’t know where this kind of attitude came from, but I guess I was born with a gift from God known as forever-pissed-at-the-world.

The thing is, I’m not even pissed. I’m more on the neutral side. Anger takes too much energy; caring takes too much energy. So I just drift through life doing whatever the fuck I can without getting attached to anything. I’ve always been like this. People are pretty much useless to me.

Despite my closed off mindset, girls and boys back in school swooned over me. I don’t know what they saw in me: skinny, pale, black hair, eventually I got tattoos and toned muscle, but that would be it. I’m nothing special. I guess that’s another gift from the Almighty—undeniable charm.

So, I decided to put this gift to use. You could call it “applying my skills in a career.” What kind of career could I have with only a high school diploma? My fucking family was, of course, too poor to afford to send me to a university. And, naturally, I don’t give a fuck. I ran away the first chance I got.

I became a prostitute. Ugh, that just sounds dirty. I’m more of an elegant type of a prostitute. I’m not a whore—I’m a provider. Clients pay me to get what they want. And, believe it or not, it’s not always sex.

Sometimes I take them out on dates. Sometimes we get high together and fuck. Sometimes we just fuck.

You wouldn’t believe the reasons why people decided to use my services. Not only because they were horny, but also because they were “confused about their sexuality.” That one was my favorite. What’s there to be confused about? You either like dick, pussy, or both.

Me? I naturally… don’t give a fuck. If I reach into someone’s pants in the dark, I don’t care whether I find dick or pussy. I can go with both. As long as I get my pay after.

And people know what they’re paying for. I’m not afraid to seem cocky when I say I am good in bed. Really good. I’ve had people coming back to me. In fact, I have a girl that keeps returning every Wednesday so I can take her out on a date. Poor babe thinks I am truly interested in her. Not really. She just has somewhat nice tits and good cash. What else do I need in life?

I’ve been doing this for four years now. I became an expert the second week I was introduced to the market. I was made for this. That is why I don’t even bother to get a day job. I just sleep during the day, like a cat. I’m like a one-man wolf pack; I don’t need anyone else in my life.

But this kind of lazy attitude cost me some money. Don’t take me wrong, people pay me quite good cash, but that just doesn’t cut it when you’re in LA. I have to pay for my apartment and whatever luxuries I decide I want. Also, bed sheets cost me a lot, because I have to change them every fucking day. Not even exaggerating.

So, one year ago, the guy who introduced me to the streets, named Jack, offered me an additional way to earn cash while being with my clients.

Making sex tapes.

To me, it sounded a bit fishy at first. But I took up the offer anyway. Whenever a client wanted sex from me, which was ninety percent of the time, I would subtly turn on the camera in the corner of my bedroom, and the tape would roll while the magic is happening on the bed.

Now, I don’t know what kind of a sick fuck would be dumb enough to have to buy sex tapes from random prostitutes rather than just watch free porn online, but I’m not really complaining. As long as I get my money, and it doesn’t somehow backfire at me. I like being left alone, although I have magical people skills.

After a year of making countless sex tapes, none of the clients have found out about my doings. I’m just that good.

I sold tape after tape back to Jack, and I still have no idea what he does to them afterwards. I really don’t want to get involved any more anyway.

Another thing I don’t understand is why would you watch porn if an ugly old person is in it? I mean, face it: you have to be pretty fucking rejected by society to have to come to a prostitute.

I have had the ugliest motherfuckers come in to use my services. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had someone genuinely attractive come to me. Maybe I just have high standards. I’ve had vaginas smell so putrid that I threw up for hours after the girl left. I’ve had wrinkly old men who wanted to do it without protection. Hell no. I am not that desperate for money. Sometimes I say no, in very extreme cases. Very extreme. I can’t deny the need for cash though—got to survive on the streets, right?

Oh, do I feel worthless? No. I actually do have some friends, and enemies, and people I can’t tolerate, and other spices in my life. I’m not a complete loner. Which leads me to the point:

Remember when I was talking earlier at being really good at keeping the camera incognito? And how I liked to be alone? And how I hoped things wouldn’t backfire at me?

Well, my name is Chester Bennington, and here is the story where everything gets completely fucked in the ass, no pun intended, once Michael-fucking-Shinoda enters my life.

You have no idea how excited I am to start this story. I’ve got such high hopes for this one, and some good ideas. Do you guys like it so far?