Sabre almost certainly wouldn’t have made it back.
And then heshovedMargaux to the ground.She could have been paralyzed.
I was ready to act then—to fly to the Cay, knock down the door, and rip him apart piece by piece.
But I know Margaux wouldn’t have left, not yet. She’s not ready.
If I took her out of this now, it would only end in her going back to him, and I’d lose my chance to truly free her.
Still, the temptation claws at me every day.
Timmy moves toward her now, his hand outstretched, like he’s going to touch her shoulder.
Margaux flinches, and he freezes.The audacity of him.
He laughs, this sick, smug sound, then stumbles into the back room. The door slams shut.
Margaux slumps further into the bed, her phone in one hand, the other rubbing absently at her neck. I know she’s in pain. I saw her fall, saw how she hit the tile.
The rage in me simmers, sharp and bright, but I force it down. She doesn’t need a savior right now—she needs a mirror. She needs to see what he is, what he’s doing to her.
I need to find additional ways to plant other seeds of doubt in her mind. It’s not manipulation. It’s truth dressed in sharper clothing.
He’s behaved badly so many times, but she’s brushed it all under the carpet, defending and justifying and rationalizing—I need to find a way to make her face it… before it’s too late.
Her phone buzzes with a notification from Alice:
Alice:
Are you okay?
Margaux stares at the screen for a long time before typing back.
Margaux:
I don’t know. I feel so tired. Like I can’t fight anymore.
I close my laptop, my fists clenched. She’s breaking, and while that’s necessary for her to leave, it’s agony to witness. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s on the edge of something monumental. The question is, will she take the leap, or will she let him pull her back into the abyss?
It’s after midnight when the apartment finally goes quiet. I sit back, my eyes burning from hours of watching and waiting. Margaux is asleep, curled around Sabre like he’s the only thing tethering her to sanity.
I open my phone and type out a message from an anonymous number I created weeks ago.
Anonymous:
You don’t deserve this. You’re stronger than you think.
I watch as the message sends, wondering if it will land or if she’ll dismiss it as some random spam. Either way, I’ll keep watching, keep waiting. Because as much as I want to tear Timmy apart, Margaux has to make the first move.
Until then, I’ll do what I can to chip away at his grip on her.
One crack at a time.
CHAPTER 63
IF YOU'RE HAVING A BAD DAY JUST CRANK SOME T SWIFT
MARGAUX