The restof the group meets us at the café. Before we get a chance to share what happened, my phone rings, and Timmy’s name lights up the screen like a flare in the night, signaling disaster. Everyone in the room reacts instantly, tension thick in the air.
“Speakerphone!” they all yell in unison, their voices tinged with urgency.
I hesitate for a moment, knowing deep down that whatever Timmy has to say won’t be good. But part of me hopes—maybe—it’ll just be him venting, angry but manageable. I press the speaker icon, my heart pounding, and set the phone on the table.
What comes through is far worse than anything I could have imagined.
“I’m going to throw your cat in the ocean, you stupid cunt,” Timmy’s voice snarls, the words crackling through the phone like venom. “You’re fucking awful, and I’m going to do to you and your cat what should have been done long ago!”
The room falls into stunned silence, the words hanging in the air like a toxic cloud. Several people gasp, hands flying to their mouths, their eyes wide with disbelief. The weight of his words hits us all at once, like a gut punch, knocking the breath out of everyone at the table.
My heart clenches, my breath catching painfully in my chest.Sabre.My sweet, innocent baby, alone with him. Timmy must have somehow made it all the way back to the other side of the Cay. And now he’s threatening to take Sabre—my child, my constant companion—and throw him into the ocean.
Who does that?
Who threatens to hurt a helpless animal just to punish someone?
“Please,” I whisper into the phone, my voice barely audible, raw with fear. “Please don’t hurt Sabre.”
Timmy’s reply is laced with venom, dripping with spite. “You’re a fucking dumb slut. Fucking a fourteen-year-old.”
My mind reels, trying to process his words. “What are you talking about? That’s disgusting!”
But Timmy isn’t done. His voice rises, lashing out with unhinged rage. “You’re fucking gross. I should call the cops and tell them what you’re doing.”
My hands tremble as I try to calm him down, feeling helpless. “Timmy, please,” I beg, tears threatening to spill over. “Please don’t do this. Just be calm.”
But my plea only seems to fuel his anger.
“Fuck you, slut. You’re going to pay the consequences for what you did. I hope you have a nice life with your fourteen-year-old boyfriend.”
And with that, the line goes dead.
The silence that follows is deafening. Everyone at the table is frozen, their expressions a mixture of shock, horror, and disbelief. I sit, stunned, as the tears I’ve been holding back begin to spill over, hot and relentless.
Charlie’s friend, a woman I’ve only just met, shifts her chair closer to me without hesitation. She places a supportive hand on my forearm, offering quiet comfort. The warmth of her touch is the only thing grounding me in the moment.
“Oh my god,” someone mutters under their breath. “Did that just happen?”
Another person, pale with disbelief, shakes their head slowly. “He really said he was going to—throw your cat in the ocean?”
I can feel their eyes on me, but it all feels distant, like I’m watching the scene from outside my body.
“He’s threatening your cat,” Charlie whispers, horrified. “That’s... that’s insane.”
I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, trying to stem the flow oftears. But it’s no use. The emotions flood in too fast—fear for Sabre, shame for being in this situation, disbelief that the man I love could say something so monstrous.
The woman beside me gently takes one of my hands in hers, clasping it tightly. She leans in, her expression earnest and full of empathy. “Margaux, you’re in an abusive relationship,” she says softly, her words cutting through the fog of my mind. “I’ve been there. I know how hard it is. But it’s going to take a lot of strength to break away. Trust me, though—it will be worth it.”
Her words hang in the air, heavy and clear, but they don’t fully sink in. It’s like I’m hearing them through a thick layer of denial, as if they’re meant for someone else—not me.
Timmy’s just upset, I tell myself.This isn’t who he really is.
He hasn’t hurt me physically since the deer antler incident—that was a one-time thing, an aberration. This must be the same. A fluke. An anomaly. The second-worst thing he’s done, if I had to rank them—but somehow, this feels worse. Maybe because it involves someone else, or because he’s threatening the thing I love most.
I cling to the idea that this isn’t the real Timmy—that he’s just having a bad day, and that once he cools down, he’ll see how wrong he was and apologize. That he didn’t mean it.
But even as I try to convince myself, I feel the creeping weight of doubt pressing in on me.