Chapter 2: The Night That Never Ends

"Derek, we’re done eating. Come pay the bill and book the next place for karaoke."

My phone buzzed just as I was clocking out from my shift at the warehouse. Natalie’s name flashed across the screen, her voice sharp and impatient—like she was talking to an Uber driver she didn’t plan on tipping.

I’d gotten used to that tone. After a decade, her impatience was just background noise—the hum of the AC, the distant wail of a siren, the constant static of my world.

But in her eyes, I really was just a dog—her loyal simp, always on call, always invisible when it mattered.

Honestly, she wasn’t wrong. She used to make jokes about it in front of her friends, snapping her fingers for me to fetch her a Diet Coke. I’d smile, play along, because the System demanded nothing less.

Sometimes, that sentence would echo in my head: Ten years, Derek. From smuggling her notes in class to driving her halfway across Ohio for a concert I wasn’t even invited to, I was always the one she could count on—never the one she wanted.

Back in high school, I was expelled for fighting on her behalf. Once I started working, I maxed out my credit cards covering her expenses, then racked up payday loans with interest rates that would make your head spin.

It started with the little things—covering her lattes, paying her overdue library fines. But then it snowballed. I’d get calls from collections, dread opening my mailbox, my stomach twisting every time I checked my balance.

All because, ten years ago, I made a deal with the Simp System. If I didn’t obey Natalie’s every whim, if I hesitated or held back even a little, the System would zap me with a jolt of electricity—no questions asked.

That first night, I thought I was losing my mind. But the pain was real—a sharp, electric agony that left me gasping on the floor. The System was always watching, always waiting for me to slip up.

But if I simped for ten years and completed the task, I’d get a billion dollars in cash.

That promise hung in front of me like a lottery ticket taped to the fridge, just out of reach. For a broke kid from Akron, it was enough to keep me going.

At first, I thought it was a joke—until the night Natalie asked me to help clean up after chemistry lab. I refused, wanting to make it home for the Browns’ home opener. I texted my buddies that I’d be there by halftime. Natalie just wanted me to sweep up. For once, I thought I could skip it.

The moment I said no, an electric current ripped through my body. I screamed and hit the linoleum, twitching as the janitor stared at me like I’d lost it. Natalie looked startled—half-mocking, half-concerned. “If you don’t want to help, just say so—why pretend to be in pain?”

She didn’t buy it, and neither did the teacher. But I couldn’t stop shaking. For a second, I thought I’d die right there, next to the battered lockers and the faded motivational poster of a bald eagle in the principal’s office.

After that, I snatched the broom from her hand, my grin trembling. "Who said I won’t help? I’ll do it, I’ll do it. I was just too excited to do chores with you."

Natalie rolled her eyes, but handed me the broom. The System hummed, satisfied. From then on, I never hesitated—not even for a second.

I became Natalie’s loyal simp, never daring to refuse her, always afraid the System would judge me for a half-hearted gesture or a trace of resentment. I smiled bigger, ran faster, did everything she asked—no matter how humiliating. All the while, I counted the days.