CHAPTER 72
THE AUDACITY OF THIS BITCH
MARGAUX
Just as the conversation grows calmer, I recall him sending the ‘I am in jail’ texts to multiple contacts in my phone. Rage bubbles up as I confront him.
“How could you do that to me?”I yell, my voice raw.
“I was drunk,” Timmy says, shrugging, as if that’s some kind of defense. “I was angry, and you hurt my feelings!”
I gape at him. “So you… you impersonated me tohumiliateme? Do you even realize that’s illegal? My lawyer says that tampering with communications is a felony.”
I’ve finally been appointed a lawyer. By some fluke, I don’t just have a run-of-the-mill public defender—they’ve appointed me a private lawyer who used to be an Assistant District Attorney for the state. During our brief consultation call, we’d discussed Timmy’s text tampering.
His face turns pale. “A… a felony?” he stammers. “Please don’t have me locked up,” he begs. “I can’t go to prison.”
The audacity leaves me breathless. “You can’t be serious,” I say, my voice flat.
He shrinks under my glare, but I can feel his self-preservation kicking in. “I’m sorry,” he says, his tone pitiful. “I wasn’t thinking straight.Please,don’t get me into trouble.”
I shake my head, disbelief washing over me like a tidal wave. “You’re unbelievable. You’re not sorry for what you did—you’re sorry for the consequences.”
Timmy flinches, but he doesn’t argue. He reaches for me, and instinctively, I step back.
“You fractured my skull,” I say again. “And then you fabricated a story about me being violent. And you went into my phone, violated my privacy, and messaged my friends. Do you even understand how completely insane all of that is?”
“I wasn’t thinking straight,” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve said sorry more times than I can count,” I snap. “But sorry doesn’t mean anything if you keep doing the same things over and over.”
He nods, tears streaming down his face. “You’re right. I’m going to change. I promise. Therapy, AA meetings—whatever it takes. Just don’t give up on me.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “You’ve promised all of that before. And look where we are.”
He stammers, searching for a defense, but I’ve stopped listening.
The numbness returns, shielding me from the chaos of his existence.
He reaches out again, pulling me into a hug. This time, I don’t flinch. I let him hold me, his arms wrapped tightly around me. But I don’t hug him back.
In his embrace, I feel nothing.
No love.
No safety.
Just a hollow echo of what used to be.
Later, I sit on the bed, staring at the cracked glass pane in the window and thinking about the life I’ve built with him. The thought of leaving fills me with fear, but the thought of staying fills me with something worse.
I pull out my phone and message Alice.
Me:
I think I’m done.
Alice:
