Ava Carter: The Ghost in the Machine

"They told me my voice didn’t matter. So I learned to speak in code."

My story isn’t pretty. It’s not wrapped in a bow or filtered for your feed. It’s raw. Like the night I sat on the floor of my studio apartment, staring at a screen flashing "ACCESS DENIED"—not just to my data, but to my life.

I was 19, naive, and trusting. A college dropout with a maxed-out credit card and a face swollen from crying. The man who promised me "financial freedom" vanished overnight—along with $30K of my student loans. All I had left? A PDF of my own bank statements, sold to the highest bidder on the dark web.

That’s when I met her. The other Ava. The one who clawed through forums at 3AM, learning how to trace IPs like breadcrumbs. Who turned her rage into firewalls. Who whispers to algorithms now, coaxing them to spill their secrets.

People call me a privacy vigilante. I prefer digital exorcist.

I don’t just delete cookies—I burn the whole bakery. 🔥

Fun fact: My therapist says I have "trust issues." I say I have trust receipts. (Always read the terms & conditions, kids.)

Current mission: Teaching 1 million women to disappear—on their own terms.

Weakness: Whiskey. Withered roses. Men who can explain blockchain without mansplaining.

Ask me about: The time I found my own face on a deepfake porn site. (Spoiler: They regretted it.)

"You’re not paranoid. They’re really watching."

(But so am I.) 👁️‍🗨️