He shifts on the bed beside me, pulling me closer like nothing happened. His arm around my shoulders feels both protective and possessive, and the contrast unsettles me. There’s a part of him that loves me, I know that much. But there’s another part—dark, angry, and unpredictable—that terrifies me.
“I’m glad we’re good now,” he murmurs into my hair. His voice is soft, almost too soft, the kind that makes you aware of just how easily things could tip the other way. I attempt to relax. He’s so attuned to my emotions that I don’t want an argument to start because my shoulders are too stiff, or that I’m not reciprocating his affection in my normal way.
“Me too,” I whisper, forcing a smile. My heart is hammering against my ribcage, but I keep my voice steady. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
He tilts my chin up with one finger and kisses me gently, like he’s sealing a promise between us. But it doesn’t feel like a promise I can trust. It feels more like a warning, wrapped up in affection—a silent reminder that I’m his. That everything is fine, as long as I stay in line.
The air between us hums with tension, and I feel like I’m holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because it will. I know it will. It always does with Timmy.
But for now, I tell myself to hold on.
To ride this wave of calm for as long as it lasts.
Because the storm is always waiting, right around the corner, ready to strike the moment I let my guard down.
125
A NIGHT FULL OF STARS
The Past
Uncle: He harmed you physically and everybody believes you, regardless of what he says. Please know that. Anybody who says otherwise is lying to themselves and you.
Me: But… but it could have been so much worse. I feel for all those girls who walk down the street and get dragged into a dark alley by a complete stranger.
Uncle: How is this any less bad? Because you knew him?
Me: I feel partially responsible.
Uncle: Why?
Me: Because I agreed to go on the date. Two ofthem, in fact.
And I let him into my apartment.
Uncle: So, because you knew the guy, because he wasn’t some completely random person… you think you’re partially responsible for him sexually assaulting you? For putting something in your drink and then messing with your body while you were unconscious? Man, girl. You are very hard on yourself.
Me: Sure.
Uncle: Well, what I was trying to say is that there’s no question he harmed you physically, Margaux.
But the mental… the psychological trauma is there, too.
Please remember that. Bruises on your body fade, but the less visible damage is what’s going on in your mind. You need to get some help. It’s too much for anybody to deal with by themselves, no matter how strong they are.
A tear betrays me by escaping from my eye and rolling down my cheek. My lips also tremble as his words sink in.
Me: Okay… I’ll think about it.
Uncle: That’s good enough for me.
The Present
Things have been calmer for the past few days. Timmy has been fairly quiet, and has made an effort to do things around the apartment. Cooking, some cleaning. Insisting on soaking my feet and rubbing them. Being extra cute with Sabre. He’s even rearrangedsome parts of the apartment to make them less cluttered, and the atmosphere feels much nicer.
There hasn’t been much bickering, although I’ve noticed he’s starting to get a little agitated again about which movies we’re watching and what music we’re listening to.
“Why don’t you watch that sci-fi movie you’ve been wanting to watch, and I’ll listen to music on my headphones for a while?” I suggest. I’m not in the mood to fight over movies for the millionth time, so he can have his way and watch whatever he likes. And it will be nice to have a bit of quiet time, even though we’ll still be in the same room together. It’s my attempt at de-escalation, and keeping things chill. I’m done with the fighting and the stress and I’m terrified of any further erratic behavior.