He leans back, his tone shifting slightly. “Look, I’ve seen this kind of thing before. I checked this guy’s record, and let me tell you—it’s long. It’s only a matter of time before he kills someone.”
I stare at him, my mouth dry. “I… I had no idea. He told me about some stuff with his brother, and that he got in trouble once for running around on the beach shouting, ‘I kill you’—but I thought that was just... stupid shit.”
“Yeah, it’s much worse than that,” he says. “And you know, when I visited him in jail to question him, he was still really out of it. Drunk, even twenty-four hours later. I had to go back a second time. And there’s something really off about him. He’s not right in the head.”
“Seriously?” The now-constant knot in my stomach grips tighter.
The detective shakes his head grimly. “He’s got a history. He’s dangerous, and honestly, you’re lucky to be alive.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I feel like I’m trapped in some twisted alternate reality. How did it get to this? How did I end up here—afraid for my life, sitting across from a detective at a bar, talking about being sodomized with deer antlers and how my fiancé, who I thought was a very laid-back surfer boy, is actually a pathological maniac with a mile-long rap sheet?
“I need you to be really careful,” he says. “He’s unpredictable. If he’s let out, he could come straight for you.”
I nod, but my mind is spinning. What if he does? What if Timmy blames me and decides to finish what he started?
The detective seems to sense my fear. “We’ll make sure you’re safe. He’s banned from the building, and if he comes anywhere near you, you call us immediately. Don’t hesitate.”
I nod again, numb. My drink sits untouched on the table, the ice melted to slush. The detective gives me a small, grim smile and gets up to leave. “Take care of yourself, Margaux. And don’t go back to him, no matter what.”
As he walks away, I sit here in stunned silence. The weight of everything crashes over me—Timmy’s attack, the fear that still clings to my skin, the uncertainty of what’s coming next.
I thought I could handle this, but now I’m not so sure.
63
UNEXPECTED GIRL GANG
As I sit back at the bar, nursing my drink, I stare out at the water, trying to make sense of everything. My phone buzzes.
His Boss:
Are you still alive?
What a strange question, I think, my stomach twisting again. Although, given what’s happened, it sadly makes sense.
Me:
Yeah. I’m just at Dock Bar getting my head together.
Timmy’s Boss:
I’ll come meet you?
I hesitate. I don’t know her well, but she seems kind, and I’m desperate for someone to talk to.
Me:
Sure, soundsgood. See you soon.
When she arrives, I’m still on edge. She sits next to me, and tilts her body toward me. There's concern in her eyes, but the smirk she wears doesn’t match it. It’s like she’s listening to the world’s most predictable story, and she’s mildly amused that I’ve become part of it. That said, I feel like her smirk is aimed at Timmy, not me. I don’t feel like she’s judging me at all, just isn’t surprised about any of it, as wild as it is. Given she’s Timmy’s ex’s best friend, this just adds to my concern.
I take a deep breath and recount everything—Timmy’s sudden rage, the attack, the police showing up, the antlers. I try to keep my voice steady, but the words feel heavy and absurd coming out of my mouth, as if I’m describing a dream I still haven’t fully woken from.
She listens, nodding, occasionally biting her lip to stifle a laugh. It’s not malicious, just... strange. Like she expected this all along.
“I’m really sorry,” she says. “But, honestly? Not surprised.”
Her words hang in the air.