[ WP ] In this world , everything is determined by the number floating over your head . Everything . And when numbers ahead of you die or get killed , yours moves closer to the coveted position of # 1 . You 're number 22 . For now .

**This is pretty dark despite no graphic descriptions. Apologies in advance? ** 
 
 I do n't know how many I've killed. It's a dozen this week alone. When I made it to the Top 100, a whole new world was opened to me, and suddenly all my morals were at odds with the laws governing me, or lack thereof to be precise. 
 
 At first it was kinky sex games, all the most horrible things I'd ever seen or heard about, and it was legal for me. There are a lot of thrills to be had in the bedroom when consent is granted by the number over your head. 
 
 Then I made it to the Top 25, and there were billions of people below me, and I could do pretty much whatever I wanted to almost all of them. This number over my head, 22, allowed it. And at first I availed myself of the many new pleasures open to me. They created a game show in my honor, Catch 22, because I had a penchant for forcing my playthings to pick between two terrible but contradictory fates. I'm not apologizing for my actions, not to you. You're just a mill, and not even close to a thou. 
 
 But there is something I ca n't do, even with this number. I ca n't make him love me. Oh, I've tried. I've had my way with him. He ca n't stop me, he's only a mid-thou, but it is n't enough. I've seen the disgust in his eyes, the hatred, whenever I'm around. 
 
 I chose him before I was number 22, and at first he was flattered to have such a high-ranking woman dote on him, a Cinderella story. They're more common than ever because of that particular fairy tale, and he was n't my first. The others were mere playthings, though, and as with any doll, they are to be discarded. 
 
 My appetites scare my little Cinderella man. I ca n't come back from this mountain of perversion and sin. What is seen can not be unseen, and even were I to change my ways, I'd always be Lady Death. I'd always be Madam Murder. The news loves their nicknames. 
 
 So I will corrupt him. But to do that I have to raise him up so that his moral objections wither when no law binds his hand, as mine once did. He shall be my greatest work, and someday he will come to love me. We will be dervishes of death, a whirlwind of pleasure and pain. 
 
 But until then I have many thousands left to cull.
