She furrows her brow. “What the fuck, Timmy? No, of course I didn’t. I don’t know your password.”
“Maybe you grabbed my phone or laptop while I was in the shower.” He frowns at her.
“Nope, I sure didn’t.”
Margaux, ever the compassionate one, tries to calm him down when he’s ranting about his phone and computer ‘freaking out.’
But I know she’s exhausted, and I know she’s starting to see him for who he really is—a man crumbling under the weight of his own inadequacy.
“Maybe you just need to take a break from screens,” she suggests, her voice steady but tired.
“Break from screens?” he snaps, his eyes wild. “It’s not the screens! It’s something—someone—messing with me!”
“You sure it’s not just you?” she replies, arching a brow. It’s the tiniest bit of resistance, but it’s enough to push him further into the spiral.
He storms out, slamming the door behind him, and I let myself smile.
Step by step, I’m dismantling Timmy’s world. He might not know it yet, but the cracks are spreading.
Soon, they’ll be too big to ignore.
I watch with amusement as Margaux sends her friend Alice yet another running pickle.
CHAPTER 31
DETECTIVE PIKACHU
MARGAUX
Once he leaves, I message Alice, venting my feelings.
She’s familiar with the mood disorder he claims to have, but we’re in agreement he doesn’t seem to be experiencing the typical signs that come with it.
Paranoia? Absolutely.
Moodiness? One hundred percent.
Hallucinations? No sign of them.
Me:
He just accused me of making up having PTSD, and said I lied about being sexually assaulted.
Alice:
Just be careful. It’s gaslighting at it’s worst and concerning at best.
Me:
Oh totally.
I taught him the word gaslight, and he gets mad when it comes up in shows now.
He thought I invented it or something.
Alice:
HA! How disappointing a piece of knowledge to acquire.