Page 146

CHAPTER 146

COCK BLOCK

DEX

N ow that Margaux is safe, it’s finally time for justice to take its course.

I want to kill Timmy. Every fiber of my being craves it. But death? That’s too easy. Too quick. It’s a mercy he doesn’t deserve. Not yet .

He needs to be dismantled piece by piece.

A narcissist’s deepest fear isn’t death—it’s being unmasked. Exposed for the sad, hollow shell they truly are. Timmy’s built his life on lies, carefully curated to keep himself in the center of everyone’s good graces. But I know the truth. I’ve seen the wreckage he’s left in Margaux’s life, and I’ll make sure everyone else does too.

I start small, planting seeds that will grow into his unraveling.

First, I flood social media with posts about Timmy. Burner accounts, fake profiles, all of them loaded with receipts so he can’t dispute it—screenshots of text exchanges, photos of police reports, and audio of his tantrums. Each post is tagged with his name, ensuring they reach everyone in his orbit, so that his so- called friends, his family, his potential dates—can all see him for what he truly is.

Then I hack into his personal accounts, locking him out with new passwords. I upload a fake ‘confession’ video where Timmy admits to all his wrongdoings, complete with tearful apologies and self-deprecating remarks about his inadequacy. It’s so realistic, even I almost believe it.

But I’m not done.

To strangers, people who don’t know him well—or the few people who still believe his lies—Timmy has crafted a persona as the good guy, even a hero in the community who helps to protect the local environment.

So I destroy it.

I leak footage of him screaming at Margaux, of him smashing plates, of him berating her for imagined slights. I post it everywhere. The local community, his surfing buddies, even the bars he frequents—none of them can look at him the same.

I lure him to a public event in Montana with his parents, with promises of the chance to win money by showing off. When he arrives, I’ve hired strangers to confront him one by one, listing the harm he’s caused. Each confrontation is recorded and shared online.

I gather testimonies from his victims—Margaux included—and post them in public spaces. Bars, coffee shops, gyms—all plastered with the headline: We Know What You Did, Timmy—Tick Tock!

I lock him out of all his graphic design software, the tools he used to develop AI-generated graphics to build the meager career Margaux funded. Without them, he’s nothing. No one.

Then, the petty stuff.

Posters of his face with phrases like Have You Seen This Abuser? go up in his neighborhood. QR codes labeled ‘Curious About Timmy? Click Here’ lead to a dossier of his worst moments. His name is whispered in every corner of Sunset Cay as well as Montana, linked to scandal and shame.

I create fake dating profiles, loaded with humiliating information. He doesn’t stand a chance—his matches on his real accounts get links to the same dossier before the first date.

I even sign him up for mail subscriptions—porn magazines, erectile dysfunction brochures—all sent to his parents’ house. His father must love that.

I tip off the local paper about Timmy’s history, ensuring his name makes the headlines for all the wrong reasons.

I anonymously have custom T-shirts and signs that say ‘Ask Me About My Restraining Orders (I have 7)’, along with his picture, and hang them where Timmy frequents.

I anonymously write a fictionalized version of Margaux’s story, but change the names, casting Timmy as the victim. When the story becomes public, Timmy is forced to confront how it feels to be dehumanized and picked apart in front of others.

I hire actors to ‘compliment’ Timmy in ways that mirror his manipulative comments to Margaux when he’s out trying to impress dates and strangers—things like, “You’re great for a guy with so many flaws!” or “It’s brave of you to still be out here after all the restraining orders.”

Finally, I make sure he can’t escape his shame within his surfing community. At a major surfing event, I hack the live stream and project a video compilation of Timmy’s worst moments. The crowd watches in stunned silence as his true self plays out in high definition.

I sit back, watching the chaos unfold.

And just when he thinks it’s over, I plant drug paraphernalia and tip off the cops. Timmy is arrested and locked up, his worst nightmare realized. A month in jail.

I savor his distress as he sits helpless, behind bars, and watch his facade begin to crack. The charm he once wielded so effortlessly fails to find an audience among the hardened faces around him.

His agitation grows with each passing day, his nerves fraying as paranoia seeps in—are his cellmates whispering about him?

He can't sleep, haunted by nightmares of betrayal and public humiliation.

Depression takes root as the weight of his tarnished reputation becomes inescapable, and he’s left to stew in the silence, spiraling further into despair.

One day, during shower time, a few other inmates decide they like the look of his long hair from behind and they descend upon him, forcing themselves into him while he cries out begging them to stop. “That’s what you get for raping Margaux, you piece of shit,” I say out loud to myself.

By the time he’s released, the once smug, self-assured Timmy is nothing but a shadow of himself—angry, broken, and consumed by the fear that the world now sees him for exactly who he is.

His life crumbles further, his reputation in more tatters than ever before.

Good luck getting a date now, Timmy.

Good luck finding a job.

Good luck escaping the shadow of your own lies.

But still—despite all of this evidence—his father stands blindly by his side, falling for Timmy’s justifications, his rationalizations, his excuses. Phil clings to the idea of his son as a misunderstood victim, a man who the world just can’t appreciate.

Even with the evidence laid bare, Phil refuses to see it.

“It’s all lies,” he says to anyone who will listen. “My boy’s been set up. He’s a good kid, just lost his way. These people are out to get him.”

Phil defends Timmy with every ounce of misguided loyalty he has, blaming everyone else—Margaux, the cops, the system, society. It’s everyone’s fault but Timmy’s.

And that’s what keeps Timmy going. That unshakable enabler. That one person who will never stop believing in his lies, no matter how transparent they are.

It’s almost sad. Almost.

But not enough to make me stop.

You don’t get to hurt my Margaux and walk away unscathed. You don’t get to move on while she’s picking up the pieces.

I’ll make sure of that.