Three months.
Three months since they crowned Morrison king of my kingdom. Three months since my children started calling another man father. Three months since I became a ghost haunting my own afterlife.
And I'm NOT accepting any of this.
I stopped checking his story two weeks ago - not because the pain lessened, but because I almost put my fist through the library computer screen when I saw what he'd done to my daughter.
My beautiful, complex female lead. The warrior who fought invisible battles, who had depth and intelligence and strength that didn't need to be proven through violence. Morrison turned her into a HAREM GIRL. A walking pair of breasts whose only personality trait is thirsting after his bastardized version of my protagonist.
He took my thoughtful, compassionate hero - the quiet soul who solved problems with wisdom instead of fists - and turned him into a cruel, arrogant MONSTER. A toxic masculinity poster boy who treats women like collectible cards and solves everything with violence and intimidation.
This isn't improvement. This is CHARACTER ASSASSINATION.
This is taking Mona Lisa and turning her into a porn poster. This is taking a symphony and turning it into a car alarm. This is taking my children and turning them into PROSTITUTES for the male gaze.
2.3 million reads. Film rights sold. Merchandise deals.
Millions of people LOVE watching my daughter get objectified and my son become a sociopath. They think this garbage is "better" than what I created. They prefer my children as broken, sexualized shadows of themselves.
What kind of sick world celebrates the destruction of everything good and pure?
But that's not even the worst part.
Tonight, I found the fan forum. "Morrison's Universe" - fifteen thousand people worshipping the corpses of my children while I'm banned from even mentioning I gave birth to them.
One post made me want to burn the whole internet down:
"Morrison's harem setup is SO hot! I love how all the girls compete for the MC's attention. Chapter 23 where he puts that uppity female lead in her place was PERFECT. Morrison really knows how to write women!"
Chapter 23. The chapter where I wrote my female lead having a breakdown about her past trauma, showing her vulnerability while maintaining her strength. Morrison turned it into her being "put in her place" by his toxic male power fantasy.
They're celebrating the rape of my daughter's character. They're cheering for the murder of everything I loved about her.
And they're thanking Morrison for it.
I wanted to burn down that forum. I wanted to track down every username and scream the truth at them: "YOU'RE CELEBRATING CHILD ABUSE! THESE WERE BEAUTIFUL SOULS AND YOU'RE MASTURBATING TO THEIR CORPSES!"
But I can't. One more "harassment" attempt and Morrison's legal team will destroy what's left of my life.
So I have to watch in silence while millions of people celebrate the systematic destruction of everything I held sacred.
My characters aren't thriving under Morrison's care. They're being TORTURED. Every chapter is a new violation, a new way to strip away their humanity and replace it with market-tested stereotypes.
This isn't about him being a better writer. This is about him being a PREDATOR who took my innocent children and turned them into content for sick fantasies.
And the world is rewarding him for it.
The job interview went well. They want me to start Monday. Eight hours a day in a cubicle, using my creativity to sell products I don't believe in, while Morrison uses my stolen children to fund his mansion and his movie deals.
But I'm not going quietly into that corporate coffin.
Every day I spend in that cubicle, I'll be planning. Every night I come home exhausted, I'll be writing. Not for platforms that can steal from me. Not for contracts that can betray me. For the day when I can expose what Morrison really is.
A child abuser. A character rapist. A soul thief who takes pure things and turns them into porn.
My phone died yesterday - the cracked screen finally gave up, like my heart should have but WON'T. I can't afford a replacement, can't stay connected to the digital world where my murdered children perform for their captors.
Maybe it's better. Maybe I need to disconnect from the machine that feeds on writers' dreams and start building something it can't touch.
In the library, typing on this ancient computer, I'm not finding peace. I'm not accepting defeat. I'm not grateful that my "inferior" work got "improved."
I'm planning war.
Morrison thinks he's safe behind his legal team and his millions of brainwashed fans. He thinks he can keep violating my children forever while I rot in silence.
He's wrong.
I don't know how yet. I don't know when. But someday, somehow, I'm going to expose what he really is. I'm going to show the world what my characters were BEFORE he turned them into his twisted fantasies.
I'm going to make him pay for every violation, every degradation, every moment of suffering he's inflicted on the souls I created.
This isn't over.
This is just the beginning of his judgment day.
Morrison can enjoy his blood money while it lasts. Can laugh at the naive writer who trusted the wrong contract. Can sleep peacefully thinking he's gotten away with the perfect crime.
But somewhere in the darkness, I'm still breathing. Still remembering what my children were before he destroyed them. Still carrying the truth that will someday burn his empire to the ground.
He stole my story, but he can't steal my rage.
He bought my characters, but he can't buy my silence forever.
He thinks he's the hero of this tale, but he's about to learn what happens when you torture the children of someone who has nothing left to lose.
The library computer is logging me out. The screen is going dark.
But in that darkness, I'm not disappearing.
I'm becoming something Morrison should have feared from the beginning.
I'm becoming his reckoning.
[The screen goes black. But the fury burns eternal.]
[My children's screams echo in the digital void.]
[And somewhere in that void, justice is taking its first breath.]
[Morrison's reign ends the day my vengeance begins.]
[Soon.]