My Roommate, My Nightmare

My Roommate, My Nightmare

Gavin

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I was just a normal college sophomore, studying journalism, living with my roommate, Britt. She was a self-proclaimed social justice warrior online, constantly posting, but sometimes her "activism" felt more like twisting things to make people feel small. This Thanksgiving, I posted a simple, sweet photo of my dad and me, saying how thankful I was for my hero firefighter father. A few hours later, a friend sent a screenshot from CampusWhisper, our anonymous gossip app. It was my photo, my dad, with a vile caption calling me a "pick-me" celebrating "patriarchal figures." My stomach dropped when I saw the edge of my phone in the background. Only Britt could have taken that screenshot from my phone. When I confronted her, she sneered, defending herself as "speaking truth to power," even calling my dad an "oppressive machine." Campus security ordered her to apologize, but Britt retaliated, mocking me on TikTok, painting me as a sensitive, "triggered conservative." Then came the rumors, and a guy, clearly put up to it by Britt, made a disgusting comment implying she' d shown them fabricated, explicit images of me and my dad. My blood ran cold imagining what she created. I charged her, demanding to see her phone, and she screamed, faking an assault. Me, assaulting her? The humiliation was unbearable. I couldn't understand why her hatred was so personal, so extreme. What kind of person creates something like that about someone's father? What was wrong with her? That' s when I called my Uncle Dave, a no-nonsense lawyer. He told me to start gathering every piece of evidence. This wasn't just online drama anymore; this was a war, and I was going to fight back. I had no idea then, how far she would be willing to go, or what I would have to do to stop her before she destroyed my life – and potentially ended it.

Introduction

I was just a normal college sophomore, studying journalism, living with my roommate, Britt. She was a self-proclaimed social justice warrior online, constantly posting, but sometimes her "activism" felt more like twisting things to make people feel small.

This Thanksgiving, I posted a simple, sweet photo of my dad and me, saying how thankful I was for my hero firefighter father. A few hours later, a friend sent a screenshot from CampusWhisper, our anonymous gossip app. It was my photo, my dad, with a vile caption calling me a "pick-me" celebrating "patriarchal figures." My stomach dropped when I saw the edge of my phone in the background. Only Britt could have taken that screenshot from my phone.

When I confronted her, she sneered, defending herself as "speaking truth to power," even calling my dad an "oppressive machine." Campus security ordered her to apologize, but Britt retaliated, mocking me on TikTok, painting me as a sensitive, "triggered conservative." Then came the rumors, and a guy, clearly put up to it by Britt, made a disgusting comment implying she' d shown them fabricated, explicit images of me and my dad. My blood ran cold imagining what she created.

I charged her, demanding to see her phone, and she screamed, faking an assault. Me, assaulting her? The humiliation was unbearable. I couldn't understand why her hatred was so personal, so extreme. What kind of person creates something like that about someone's father? What was wrong with her?

That' s when I called my Uncle Dave, a no-nonsense lawyer. He told me to start gathering every piece of evidence. This wasn't just online drama anymore; this was a war, and I was going to fight back. I had no idea then, how far she would be willing to go, or what I would have to do to stop her before she destroyed my life – and potentially ended it.

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