We go back to my apartment. I’m apprehensive, but Timmy hasn’t mentioned the leasing agent as much since we left—just a couple of times here and there—and we want to enjoy some more time to ourselves.
There’s a false sense of calm in the air, like the moment when the ocean pulls back before a massive wave crashes down. Timmy is quiet but jittery, as if the slightest thing could trigger him. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells, sensing that his rage is not far beneath the surface.
He’s been drinking all day, and earlier he disappeared for an hour or two. He went off, wearing his stupid coconut hat, running around looking like a mentally unwell, unhoused person with dirty feet and board shorts. I was upset when he left, but figured he just needed to let off some steam, running around and doing his thing. It’s nice to have a moment away from him, his wild behavior directed at my neighbor has just been so unhinged and I haven’t had a chance to process it.
His boss texts me while he’s gone to see if he’s with me. I guess he was meant to help with some more tasks today, but he didn’t mentionit, and he never showed up. I explain that he’s being weird. She doesn’t sound at all surprised, and her automatic reply is that he’s probably on some kind of bender.
When he eventually returns, things are initially fine.
He joins me on the mattress, watching a movie.
At first, it feels like everything might be okay. He’s acting relatively calm, like the drinks have mellowed him out a little. That he’s content to sit in silence and enjoy the movie.
The night is going fine, until it’s really, really not.
After a little while, his agitation at the neighbor returns, and he’s once again seething, his ear pressed to the wall, his fingertips trailing menacingly against it. “I could break through this wall pretty easily,” he says, his expression darkening. “Give her what she deserves.”
I shiver, very uncomfortable with his behavior, but unsure how to respond. It’s so surreal. He can’t really mean anything he’s saying right now. He sounds psychopathic, like he might actually want to kill her. But not for one second does any of his anger seem directed at me—he’s fixated on my neighbor, obsessed with doling out his own version of justice.
His obsession seems to be growing worse, though, despite my efforts to distract him. I can feel the tension continue to rise, thick and suffocating. But I just try to stay calm and focus on the movie.
Then, without anything seeming to prompt it, something snaps within him. All of a sudden, Timmy rages at me.
The man who just moments ago was lounging beside me is suddenly gone, replaced by someone unrecognizable—a monster wearing his skin.
His entire face changes.
His normally kind, blue eyes are dark, almost reptilian. And his mouth, normally smiling and relaxed and cheeky, is twisted into a horrifying grimace. It’s like he’s transformed into a monster out of one of his horror movies.
He charges at me, yelling. “You fucking cunt!” he roars, lunging at me. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”
The words hit me like a slap, stealing the breath from my lungs. “Timmy, stop!” I cry out, scrambling to get away, but he’s too fast.
Time slows down, and everything is in slow motion.
“Youfucking stop! Don’t tell me what to do!”
I flinch away, but he grabs me by the arms, then he drags me off the bed and slams me to the floor. I cry out as my cheek smacks the smooth wood, pain radiating through my face.
“Don’t you fucking move!” he snarls, his voice dripping with venom, as I try to wriggle out of his firm grasp, desperate to break free. But he’s about two hundred pounds and used to fighting, and I’m about a hundred and twenty-five at the moment. Strong, but definitely not used to physical combat. It’s no use. His manic fury is a monolith against my much smaller frame, still in complete disbelief at what’s happening, feeling frozen in place.
I stare in terror as he grabs one of the large deer antlers from the ground and rears it back, then smashes me in the face with it, narrowly missing my eye.
I flinch away, my cheek stinging.
He rears it back again, and then aims it at my body.
“I’m going to shove this up your fucking ass, you dumb bitch!” he screams. The dull point jabs painfully at my backside, stopped only by my shorts and underwear. "Ouch, Timmy! You’re hurting me!" I yell, panic rising in my throat.
Then he leans in close. “I’m going to slice your throat with this,” he growls, his voice inhuman. He drags the antler across my throat, and I feel it scratching me, pressing into my flesh. I try to flinch away.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I whisper.
“I’ll do more than hurt you,” he growls, his voice dark and filled with terrifying promise.
He suddenly pulls away, getting to his feet, and for a brief second, I think it’s over. I’m out of breath and in total shock, feeling like I’m inside a nightmare.
But then I hear smashing sounds coming from the bathroom—glass shattering, bottles clattering against tile. My heart races as Igrab my phone, hands shaking, and fire off a desperate text to his boss: