Amanda cares about me more than I realized.
Timmy always pitches everything as us against the world, and maybe that’s why I’ve been so defensive. But reading her words, I realize—What do we even have?
Nothing worth keeping.
Definitely nothing worth dying for.
How lucky I am to have someone like my big sis in my corner.
And how foolish I’d be not to listen.
CHAPTER 74
PLOT TWIST
MARGAUX
It’s days before Christmas, and I’ve finally reached the point where I’m mentally prepared to leave Timmy.
I should have left sooner, I know that now. Hindsight loves to tap you on the shoulder when it’s too late to undo the mess. It’s so hard to see things objectively when you’re in the middle of them.
But now, I can see clearly—this is unsustainable, unhealthy, and most of all, it’s incredibly unsafe.
Enough is enough.
I don’t want to be in a relationship where I have to have a go-bag at the ready, or where I need the number for the local domestic violence shelter saved in my phone under a fake name.
None of this is okay. Nobody should have to live like this.
The logistics weigh heavily on me.Where will I go? When is the best time? How will I escape his inevitable backlash?
But I have to tread carefully and time it right. Charges are still pending against me for the alleged hair-pulling incident that landed me in jail.
If I leave now, Timmy’s sure to retaliate. I can already hear the lies he’ll embellish for the courts, the smirks he’ll wear as he tries to destroy me—to make me pay.
So, I wait. Quietly. Strategically.
I’m sitting on the bed, steeling myself to get through the next few days—because goodness knows Timmy likes to ruin any events, including holidays—when I hear his voice, low and strained, talking on the phone across the room.
Timmy barely ever talks on the phone, other than to his parents.
This is unusual.
“Darren’s dead?” he whispers.
The words hit me like ice water, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Timmy’s face crumples, his tears falling freely as he listens to whoever is on the other end.
“I… I can’t believe he’s gone,” he murmurs.
I watch, frozen. I don’t know the circumstances, but it’s clear something terrible has happened. Darren, his estranged best friend, is dead.
“A heart attack or maybe fentanyl?” he says, choking on his words, his voice breaking.
I walk over to him and wrap my arms around him, rubbing his lower back.
His body shakes with grief.