Jake McNally doesn’t watch porn because he wants sex. He watches it because it’s the only thing that still works.

Dopamine hit. Wires firing. Escape hatch—from who he is, and where he is. A midlife flatline of burned-out dreams and suffocating family demands.

The porn helps. It smooths. Saves. Until it doesn’t. Until he collapses mid-scroll in his home office, heart detonating in his chest.

He hits the floor hard. Stays there. And when the room steadies, he remembers: The screen is still on. Tabs open. Graphic vids. Intimate chats. Subscriptions. Downloads. The secret credit cards and crushing debt.

Years of containment. One instant from exposure. His wife and kids will be home in less than an hour. If they see what’s on that monitor, the life he built vaporizes on impact.

But the real danger isn’t just what he’s hiding—it’s what he’ll do to keep it hidden.

Edging is a no-looks-away descent into compulsion, shame, and self-sabotage, where escape becomes addiction, and addiction leaves nothing standing.