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Online Shame, Real-Life Victory

Chapter 4 

Word Count: 916    |    Released on: 04/07/2025

l sick. I instinctively tightened my grip on my purse, my fingers finding the fa

ad," he announced, walking towards me with renewed

lish part of me felt a flicker of doubt. Maybe he was just a cluele

ned the live

her flowers

e's a g

sist flowers. S

him now, she's

rm. My mind flashed to a news article I'd read a few months ago. A string of robberies where the perpetrators used flowers

the roses were

d, my voice low and shaking wi

ming facade was cracking, reveal

longer for the camera, but just for me. "Just

d, standing up and bac

his voice becoming theatrical again, playi

rent from the roses, hit my nostrils. It was almost imperceptible, but it was there. At the s

urred, my own voice sounding distant and

o "steady" me. "Whoa there

rror cutting through the fog in my brain. "I'm callin

wasn't expecting this. His script didn't include a victim who fought b

opping the bouquet. The roses sc

ed out the glass doors and

whole body trembling. But the relief was fleeting. The dizziness was getting worse. The floor seeme

ngers clumsy and unresponsive. I managed to wake the screen. Th

rugged, and I had no

wall for support. I had to get to the security desk at the other end of the b

slid open. Chad w

f the elevator, a cold, predatory smile on his face. He'd just ci

s voice dripping with mock

en lobby suddenly felt like a tra

is. He had waited for me t

failing me. He stepped out of the ele

ue. The sharp, metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. The pai

g for his head. He ducked, but the bag caught him on the shoulder. In that spl

I didn't have the strength to aim properly. I just turned and pre

n and rage, claw

t I crawled, dragging myself towards the main security desk a

omebody,

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Online Shame, Real-Life Victory
Online Shame, Real-Life Victory
“The lines of code glowed, green and satisfying. It was almost 11 PM, and I, Sarah, a data analyst by trade and a numbers person by nature, was finally done for the day. Then, a trending video popped up. My face, my building, and a headline: "Dedicated Employee or Work-Life Imbalance?" My stomach clenched. Comments flooded in, a digital deluge of pity and objectification. "Wow, she looks so plain." "Probably single. A guy could just walk up to her and she'd probably be grateful." It was disgusting. I felt watched, assessed, categorized by strangers. Unsafe. My brothers were on their way, a familiar comfort. But then, he walked in. Chad. A self-proclaimed "Good Samaritan" challenge participant, selfie stick in hand, beaming that too-perfect smile. He wanted me to be his content. I refused, but he ignored it, flicking my nose with a condescending playfulness. "A pretty girl like you shouldn't be frowning." Rage exploded inside me. I stood, demandmg he leave. With a dramatic sigh, he walked away, still filming. My phone, my lifeline, flickered and died. Just as relief washed over me, the glass doors slid open again. Chad was back. And he had a huge bouquet of roses. A sickly-sweet smell. Dizziness. He was trying to drug me. I fought, screamed, and pepper-sprayed him. But the sedative was working. I collapsed, only to see him standing there again when the elevator doors chimed open. He'd circled back. Then the security guard, Tom, appeared. Chad, with chilling precision, recited my personal details, painting me as a dramatic girlfriend in a "lover's quarrel." Tom bought it. The world went dark as I fell, not to the floor, but into Chad's arms. He whispered in my ear: "Your colleague Mark sends his regards. He didn't appreciate you reporting him to HR."”
1 Introduction2 Chapter 13 Chapter 24 Chapter 35 Chapter 46 Chapter 57 Chapter 68 Chapter 79 Chapter 810 Chapter 911 Chapter 10