Zero Tolerance: The Narcissist's Downfall

I stared at my teammate's laptop screen, my face deadpan.

The latest season of a trashy reality show was playing in full screen, and we had less than fortyeight hours before our final project deadline.

This girl, sitting there playing the innocent card in her pristine white sundress, hadn't written a single line of her assigned code.

She squeezed out a few pathetic tears, her shoulders trembling violently. It was a classic guilt trip, a desperate attempt to play the victim and force me into being her free labor.

Whispers erupted from the students around us. They shot me accusing glares, calling me aggressive and telling me to just be the bigger person and help her out. I scoffed.

Pulling out my phone, I permanently revoked her access to all our shared project files.

With one final tap, I CC'd the professor on her completely blank code commit history from the backend.

If this parasite thought she could use me as a stepping stone for an easy A, she was dead wrong.

I was going to crush her academic future right here, right now, in front of everyone.

Chapter 1 The moment I pushed open the dorm room door, a blinding aura of selfrighteous purity practically seared my corneas.

A girl radiating innocence in a pristine white sundress was shoving her suitcase onto the top bunk by the window.

She turned to face me—the unfortunate soul claiming the last empty bed—and flashed a smile so aggressively angelic it could have cured a plague. "Hi there! I'm Sadie.

We're going to be roomies, so let's take good care of each other." I gave her a curt nod and dropped my massive hardshell suitcase onto the floor.

It hit the linoleum with a deafening thud. The other two girls in the room flinched at the noise.

Tessa, buried in a thick textbook behind heavy black frames, and Stella, currently applying a fresh coat of lip gloss in the mirror, both shot me quick nods of acknowledgment.

Before I could even throw out a standard greeting, Sadie was already closing the distance. "Maren, your bag looks so heavy, do you need a hand?

I mean, I personally feel like bringing too much clutter ruins the minimalist vibe of a shared space, but we are roommates after all." She blinked her wide, innocent eyes at me, her voice so sickeningly sweet it made my stomach churn. "I'm good," I replied dryly.

I popped the latches on my trunk and started pulling my gear out. "Wow, you really brought a lot of stuff." She hovered right next to my elbow, refusing to leave. "College life is supposed to be simple, you know.

You won't even use half of this." "Carrying all that material baggage is just a burden." Ignoring her, I pulled out my Alienware laptop and slammed it onto my desk.

She stared at the highend rig, letting out a passiveaggressive gasp. "Wow, that must have cost your parents a fortune!

Honestly, I just don't think students need such luxurious gadgets." "Being so materialistic is just a distraction from studying, don't you agree?" I didn't grant her a single glance.

I just kept unpacking. A mechanical keyboard. Noisecanceling headphones. The components for my ergonomic gaming chair.

With every item that hit the desk, the crease between her eyebrows deepened.

Once I finally had my battle station fully assembled, she found another angle of attack. "Maren, there are four of us sharing this space now. We're a community.

To keep things clean and tidy, I propose we set up a chore chart.

One person cleans each day." "What do you think?" I finally looked up at her. "Fine." Stella and Tessa mumbled their agreement from across the room.

Looking deeply satisfied with her own leadership, Sadie whipped out a piece of paper and scribbled furiously. She marched over and slapped it onto the back of the door.

I stepped closer to inspect the damage. [ Monday: Sadie. ] [ Tuesday: Tessa. ] [ Wednesday: Stella. ] [ Thursday: Maren. ] [ Friday: Group Deep Clean. ] [ Saturday: Group Deep Clean. ] [ Sunday: Group Deep Clean. ] I tapped my finger on the bottom three days. "What exactly is this?" Sadie beamed, looking like the poster child for righteous logic. "Well, everyone is hanging out in the dorm over the weekend, so we generate more trash.

Naturally, we need to clean together to maintain our living space." "We're a community, Maren.

We have to work together for our shared environment." Tessa pushed her heavy frames up her nose. "I have to be at the library all weekend." Sadie's face immediately crumpled into an expression of wounded betrayal. "But… this dorm is our home.

Shouldn't we all maintain our home together?

Just think of it as contributing to the community." "It won't even take that much time." She pivoted her guilt trip toward me, her eyes brimming with manipulative expectation. "What do you think, Maren?

You definitely seem like someone who cares about community spirit, right?" I let out a low, cynical chuckle. "Wrong." Sadie froze.

Chapter 2 I dragged out my words, cool and unbothered. "First of all, the whole point of a schedule is fair labor distribution. Look at your chart.

Monday through Thursday, we each take one day." "But Friday through Sunday, everyone is on the hook for three days. That means you, Tessa, and Stella are cleaning four days a week.

And me? Thursday plus the weekend makes four days too." "Sounds totally fair, right? Except my weekend plans are a wild card. I might go home, travel, or just be out all day.

If I'm not physically here, I'm not making a mess." "So why exactly am I obligated to clean it?" I leaned back, crossing my arms. "I don't run a charity for other people's trash.

Who the hell do you think you are, trying to use me as free labor?" "But… you're part of this dorm." Sadie's voice shrank. "Which is why I'm pitching a better deal." I ripped her chart off the door, grabbed a pen, and flipped it over to the blank side. "Option A: We stick to a strict Monday to Thursday rotation." "On weekends, whoever is here cleans, or you just clean up your own mess.

We can rotate shared spaces like the floors, but only if you've been in the room for more than eight hours that day." "Option B: We all pitch in, split the cost four ways, and hire a maid to come twice a week.

Nobody lifts a finger. Winwin." I slammed the new rules onto the desk right in front of her.

Leaning forward to invade her personal space, I stared her down. "Pick one, or shut your mouth." Sadie's face flushed hot red, then drained bone white.

She clearly wasn't used to taking a direct hit.

She relied on throwing around buzzwords like 'community' and 'contribution' to steamroll people. "Maren, how can you be so calculating?" she whined, jumping straight to the moral high ground. "We're roommates.

Can't we just be considerate of each other?" "It's just a little cleaning.

If you're going to nickel and dime everything, how are we supposed to live together?" "Sadie," I drawled, mocking her breathy tone. "Setting crystal clear boundaries on day one is exactly how we survive living together.

I'd rather lay out the ugly truth now than deal with passiveaggressive drama later over your vague ideas of 'consideration.'" "Good fences make good neighbors.

We're just roommates, so I want those fences ten feet high." I tapped my finger on the desk. "It's not calculating. It's called basic liability. I use the space, I clean it.

If I'm gone all weekend, I don't enjoy the clean room, and I don't trash it." "So why is that my problem? You want me to be 'considerate'? Sure.

You cover my weekend shifts, and I'll be incredibly considerate of all your hard work." Stella snorted from across the room, quickly slapping a hand over her lip gloss.

Tessa looked up from her heavy textbook. Her eyes were wide, glinting with a sharp hint of approval. Sadie choked on her words.

Her eyes welled up with fresh tears, playing the ultimate martyr. Chapter 3 "I… I didn't mean it like that. I just want to make our dorm better…" "You want to play dorm dictator?

Be my guest. But don't use nauseating political correctness like 'community spirit' to hold me hostage." "If you want to play house, go find someone else.

Do not mess with me." I ripped away her mask without an ounce of mercy. "I'm not!" She choked on a sob. "No?" I closed the distance between us.

Half a head taller, I stared down at her. "You dumped your bags in the prime spot without asking a single person." "Your little chore chart handed yourself Monday—the easiest shift, since the room is spotless right after the weekend.

You use hollow buzzwords to demand we sacrifice our free time just to fuel your fantasy of the perfect room." "Every single move you've made revolves entirely around your own feelings, yet you expect us to blindly comply.

If that isn't selfish, what the hell is?" I snatched her schedule off the door and ripped it straight down the middle. "Rewrite the chart. Or, outsource. Majority rules.

We vote now." I looked at Stella and Tessa. "Hands up if you want to hire a maid." Stella immediately raised her freshly manicured hand.

Tessa hesitated for a second, then slowly raised hers. Three to one. I flashed Sadie a sharp smile. "See? Democracy in action. Now, let's talk cash." Sadie bit her lip.

Tears spilled over her lashes. Unable to force out a single word, she spun on her heel, scrambled up to her bunk, and yanked the duvet over her head.

I shrugged and sat back in my chair. Try to guilttrip me? Too bad. I don't run on morals. I run on logic. Day one, the war was over. I remained untouched. Enemy down.

Sadie laid low for the next fortyeight hours. She dodged me like the literal plague, practically flattening herself against the walls whenever I walked by.

The vibe in the room was definitely tense, but as far as I was concerned, the peace and quiet was glorious. Stella, Tessa, and I locked down the cleaning service.

We booked a maid through an app to scrub the common areas twice a week. Split four ways, it barely cost us the price of a couple of lattes a month.

I dropped the receipt and the payment confirmation screenshot into our roommate group chat, making sure to tag Sadie. [ Maren: Cleaning fee for the month. $15 each.

Venmo me. ] Stella and Tessa sent their cuts almost instantly. Sadie's icon stayed dark.

Chapter 4 Half an hour later, she peeked her head over the edge of her bunk, shooting me a resentful glare. "Maren, I really think we should just clean it ourselves.

Hiring a maid is a complete waste of money." "We're students. We should be spending our money on things that actually matter." Here we go again.

I didn't even look up from the code on my screen. "I think wasting time sweeping and mopping is meaningless. Fifteen bucks buys me at least four hours of freedom a month.

That's a steal." "But… that's just throwing money away!" Her voice spiked in pitch. "We're students, not trust fund babies.

Do we really need to pay someone to wait on us for basic chores?" "Your materialistic obsession with money is so incredibly selfish!" I hit the final enter key. "Then go be a selfless peasant," I shot back. "You can scrub the floors yourself.

Nobody's stopping you. But the maid was a majority vote." "Three against one. That's the rule. You owe your cut." "But I don't want a maid!

I never agreed to this, so why should I pay?" The innocent act shattered.

Her voice was pure, shrill entitlement. "Because we're a community." I threw her exact words right back in her face. "Aren't you all about community spirit?

In the face of a collective decision, individual desires must bow to the greater good." "Those were your exact words.

Did you forget?" Sadie's face flushed a blotchy red. "You're twisting my words!" "I'm just helping you review your own core values." I swiveled my chair around to face her deadon. "Or does the phrase 'greater good' only apply when you can use it as a weapon to get what you want?" Stella was shaping her eyebrows in the mirror, watching the show with a barely concealed smirk.

Gagged by her own logic, Sadie desperately pivoted to the other two. "Tessa, Stella, do you really think this is right? We're dorm sisters.

Why ruin our vibe over something so small?" Stella lowered her eyebrow razor. "I think Maren makes total sense," she drawled coldly. "Besides, it's fifteen bucks.

I skip two iced lattes and it's paid for.

I'd gladly pay that to keep the room spotless." Tessa pushed up her heavy frames. "I… I think it's a good idea too," she mumbled. "I have a paper due this weekend.

I don't have time to clean." Sadie's last shred of hope evaporated.

She stared at the three of us, her eyes swimming with utter betrayal, like we were a gang of high school bullies cornering her. "You… you're all ganging up on me!" she shrieked, her voice cracking.

I stood up and closed the distance to her bunk. "Sadie, drop the victim act. First, no one is bullying you. We're solving a problem using a basic democratic process.

Second, we aren't ganging up on you." "We just happen to agree on the facts.

If you can pitch a more convincing solution that actually benefits everyone, we'll back you." I locked eyes with her. "I'll say this one last time.

Send me the fifteen bucks by midnight." "Otherwise, I'm taking this straight to the RA as proof of your refusal to comply with a dorm majority vote.

We'll see if the RA listens to your little feelings, or our collective agreement backed by three payment receipts." Without giving her a chance to respond, I walked back to my desk and slipped my noisecanceling headphones over my ears.

The world went blissfully silent. Chapter 5 Less than ten minutes later, my phone buzzed against the desk. A Venmo notification. Sadie had sent the fifteen bucks.

She attached a single passiveaggressive note to the payment. [ Consider this my bad luck. ] I hit accept and fired back a twoword reply. [ You're welcome. ] The battle lines were officially drawn.

Sure enough, trouble came knocking the very next afternoon. I didn't have class, so I was sitting at my desk writing code. The dorm door suddenly swung open.

A guy reeking of bureaucratic entitlement marched in, sporting a Student Government polo. Trailing right behind him was Sadie, her face streaked with perfectly calculated tears.

The guy cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Which one of you is Maren?" I slid one side of my noisecanceling headphones off. "That's me.

What do you want?" He gave me a judgmental onceover before puffing out his chest. "I'm Parker, the Director of Student Life.

Sadie filed a report stating that you're isolating her, rallying the other roommates to bully her, and extorting her for money." "Is this true?" Classic.

Playing the victim and weaponizing the campus administration. Sadie cowered behind Parker's broad shoulders, peeking out with red, puffy eyes like a kicked puppy.

I didn't even lift my gaze from my screen. My fingers kept flying across the mechanical keyboard as I let out a cold sneer. "Director Parker?

Which court appointed you judge and jury?" "Or do you actually think slapping a student government lanyard around your neck gives you the authority to storm onto my private property and throw your weight around?" Parker faltered.

He clearly hadn't expected me to bite back so hard. "I… I'm here to mediate a roommate dispute!

As a student representative, it's my duty to maintain campus unity!" He raised his voice, trying to physically intimidate me. "Mediate?

Fine." I nodded slowly. "But mediation requires facts. You listened to her sob story and came charging in here to play interrogator.

That's not mediation." "That's blatant favoritism.

Are you seriously abusing your student rep status just to play white knight for your little campus crush?" I arched a sarcastic eyebrow, my gaze sweeping over Sadie like a police searchlight.

Caught dead in her tracks, she instantly shrank her neck into her shoulders like a shoplifter busted redhanded. Parker's face flushed hot red. "That's bullshit!

I'm handling official business impartially!" "Impartially?" I stood up, shoved my chair back, and closed the distance.

I pulled up the dorm group chat on my phone and shoved the illuminated screen right into his face. "Read it. Does this look like extortion to you? Three of us voted to hire a maid.

She voted no. Majority rules." "Basic democracy. We split the bill four ways, which is totally reasonable.

She throws a tantrum because she refuses to honor a collective decision, and suddenly I'm the bully?" "Are the three of us supposed to sacrifice our time and energy just to coddle her delicate feelings?

Is that your version of impartial justice?" Parker stared at the chat logs, his jaw working uselessly. "And as for this isolation crap?

Total fiction," I snapped. "When did we ever tell her to shut up?

When did we lock her out?" "After we took the vote, she chose to throw a silent tantrum and cry under her blanket instead of communicating like an adult.

What, are we in middle school?" "Is her only conflict resolution strategy running to the nearest guy and playing the victim?" "I didn't…" Sadie whimpered weakly. "Didn't what?" I locked eyes with her. "Didn't manipulate the Director of Student Life into coming down here to threaten me?

Didn't twist the facts to frame us?" "Listen, Sadie, if you're so insanely oppressed, let's march down to the Resident Advisor's office right now.

We'll drop the chat logs and the voting receipts right on her desk." "Let the actual university staff decide which one of us is having a psychotic break." Chapter 6 At the mention of the Resident Advisor, Sadie's shoulders visibly jerked.

Parker's complexion immediately soured.

He knew damn well that if this escalated to the administration, he wouldn't be able to shake off an abuse of power charge. "Alright, alright," he backpedaled, his voice dropping an octave as he tried to smooth things over. "This is just a massive misunderstanding.

Sadie is a freshman, she's still adjusting." "Maren, you should just cut her some slack. You're roommates.

You have to look at each other every single day." "I don't cut slack." I sliced right through his pathetic excuse. "My time and energy are valuable.

I have zero interest in playing a supporting role in her tragic victim narrative." "If you came here to solve a problem, it's solved. Her maid fee is paid.

If you came to play white knight, save your breath." "Next time you dare knock on my door with your disgusting lectures, I'm calling the campus security hotline and pressing charges for harassment and intimidation." "Let's see if your little student rep badge saves you from a disciplinary hearing." Parker swallowed hard, suddenly looking like a sick ghost.

He had probably never been spoken to like this in his entire life. "You… you're completely unreasonable!" he finally choked out. "Thanks for the compliment. Get out.

I have studying to do." I pointed directly at the hallway. Parker shot me a venomous glare. He grabbed Sadie by the wrist and dragged her sobbing figure out of my room.

The heavy dorm door clicked shut. Complete silence. Stella popped her head over the edge of her bunk, throwing me a huge thumbsup. "Maren, that was badass!

You completely wrecked him!" I offered a dry smirk. Try to hit me with moral blackmail and a cheap power trip? Please. My morals charge by the hour.

And as for authority… a mall cop commands more respect than a frat boy in a student government polo. Advanced Software Architecture was our core major requirement this semester.

The final grade was a brutal split: fifty percent from the midterm, and fifty percent from a massive group project.

The syllabus mandated teams of three to five students to build a fully functional, lightweight software application from scratch. Group projects were a nightmare.

The absolute worstcase scenario was getting dragged down by dead weight. I planned to solo the entire build, but the professor locked in the mandatory team requirement.

Left with zero options, I dropped a message in our class Discord server. [ Maren: Group project. Need two people.

Requirements: you can actually code, zero slackers, and you know how to communicate. ] Within seconds, my DMs pinged twice. The first was from Silas, the class president.

He was a straightA student with rocksolid technical skills. The second was from Stella. [ Stella: Maren! Take me!

I don't know shit about coding, but I will be your literal servant.

I will run coffee, fetch snacks, and do whatever you need! ] I stared at the screen, a genuine laugh escaping my throat. [ Maren: What actual skills do you have? ] [ Stella: I'm a Photoshop wizard.

I make killer pitch decks. I can format the hell out of the project documentation so it looks sleek. Plus, toptier moral support!

My logistics game is unmatched! ] I leaned back in my chair. A dev team actually needed someone dedicated to documentation and presentation.

Stella couldn't write a line of Java to save her life, but her work ethic was solid, and I knew exactly what I was getting with her. [ Maren: You're in. ] Just like that, our trio was locked in.

Maren, Silas, and Stella. We mapped out our workflow immediately. I claimed the core algorithms and backend architecture.

Silas took point on the frontend development and database integration. Stella was in charge of UI design, product documentation, and building the final pitch deck.

Chapter 7 The project was running smoothly. Silas and I were pure executors. We practically lived in the library, crushing the codebase at lightning speed.

Stella actually pulled her weight too. She kept us fueled with snacks, organized the project docs flawlessly, and whipped up a gorgeous UI in Photoshop.

Just as we were approaching the finish line, disaster struck. Silas got an emergency call from home—his grandmother was in critical condition.

He had to pack up and leave campus immediately. He left in a rush, leaving his final frontend module unfinished.

It was a massive chunk of work, and neither Stella nor I knew how to write frontend code. We were screwed. We needed a third dev to fill the gap.

With zero options, I dropped another SOS message in the class Discord. [ Maren: Group project. Need a frontend dev ASAP to wrap up the final module. Light workload.

DM me. ] The notification pinged. I stared at the screen, my brow furrowing. It was Sadie. [ Sadie: Hey Maren, I saw your team needs someone. I… I know a little frontend.

Can I join? ] I stared at her profile picture, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Honestly, I'd rather swallow glass than work with her. But we were out of options.

Every decent frontend dev in the class was already locked into a team. I typed back. [ Maren: Are you absolutely sure you can handle this? ] [ Sadie: I promise!

I taught myself some basics a while ago. I'm not a pro, but I can handle simple modules. I swear I won't drag you guys down! ] The text dripped with desperation and sincerity.

Stella leaned over my shoulder. "Maren, maybe just let her try? We literally have no one else. Plus, she's been trying to smooth things over with us.

Just throw her a bone." I weighed the options, finally hitting send. [ Maren: Fine. You're in. Here's the documentation for the remaining work.

Review it immediately. ] I forwarded Silas's files. Sadie joined our group chat and immediately put on a show of intense dedication.

She followed us to the library every day, sitting right next to us, staring intently at her screen like she was cracking the Enigma code.

Whenever I checked on her progress, she'd nod eagerly and say she was almost done. Seeing her actually putting in the hours, the tension in my shoulders loosened slightly.

Maybe she actually wanted to pull her weight for once. Three days passed. We were fortyeight hours away from the submission deadline.

I had fully debugged the backend and core algorithms. Stella had the final draft of the pitch deck ready to go. All we needed was Sadie's frontend module to lock the build.

I swiveled my chair toward her. "Sadie, where's the module? Can we start the integration testing today?" Her eyes darted away. She stammered, "Aalmost done.

Just a tiny bug I need to fix. Give me a little more time." My eyes narrowed.

A cold knot formed in my stomach. "Show me the code." "No… not yet," she frantically waved her hands, physically blocking her screen. "It's not finished, it's too messy.

I'll send it when it's perfect." I didn't say a word. I stood up, walked directly behind her chair, and stared down at her monitor.

A beauty influencer's massive shopping haul video was playing in full screen.

Her code editor was as clean as her empty brain—aside from the blank file I had created for her three days ago, there wasn't a single punctuation mark added to it. Three days.

She hadn't written a single word