Margaux laughs, but there’s a tension in her smile. I know she’s thinking about the anonymous messages she’s been getting—the ones warning her about Timmy. She hasn’t mentioned them to him, and I’m relieved. The less he knows, the better.
Through it all, I watch Margaux’s interactions with Alice and Josephine. They’re her lifelines, her anchors in the storm. I envy them, their ability to offer her comfort and laughter so easily. But I also admire her for letting them in, for leaning on them when she needs it. It’s a strength, not a weakness.
As I watch her laugh at one of Alice’s sarcastic texts, a small smile tugs at my lips. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s stronger than she thinks. And one day, when she’s ready, I’ll be there to help her break free from Timmy’s grip for good.
Until then, I’ll keep sabotaging, distracting, and watching.
Because Margaux deserves better.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she gets it.
CHAPTER 40
THE CHAOS CHRONICLES
MARGAUX
A FEW DAYS LATER
The past few days have been a mix of relative calm and bizarre disruptions, which seems to be the default rhythm of life with Timmy. I’ve actually managed to write without major interruptions—an almost miraculous occurrence.
We’re playing Mario Kart on the edge of the bed, and for a while, it’s fun. He keeps winning, which I’m fine with, but his attitude quickly becomes unbearable.
“Haha, you suck at this game. I keep beating you,” he smirks, puffing his chest like he’s just conquered the Olympics.
“Okay, I’m not a sore loser,” I say, frowning, “but you don’t have to rub it in like that.”
“Look at you getting upset about a game, Margaux,” he shoots back, feigning superiority. “You should really work on that.”
I furrow my brow, trying to keep my tone steady. “You’re being an asshole. I don’t mind you winning, but you don’t have to be rude about it.”
He pauses the game dramatically and glares at me. “Look what you did. You just turned Mario Kart into somethingsick.”
“What?”My voice is incredulous, dripping exasperation.
“Never mind,” he snaps. “You ruined the whole thing.” With that, he shuts off the game and puts on regular TV.
I message Alice.
Me:
He says I turned Mario Kart into something sick. I’ll have to tell Nintendo.
Alice:
Uhhh what??
Dude is nuts.
We chat away on other topics, and it’s nice to have a reprieve from the Timmy Show.
After dozing off for a couple of hours, I wake and notice Timmy sneaking toward the front door, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he’s trying not to draw attention to himself.
He freezes mid-step as he notices me watching him, his shoulders stiffening, and guilt flickers across his face before he quickly masks it with a casual shrug. “I’m just going to get some things out of the truck,” he says, the words tumbling out a little too quickly.
I fold my arms across my chest and narrow my eyes, my skepticism evident. “What ‘stuff’?”
“Um… just stuff,” he says, avoiding my gaze. “Like I think I left some board shorts and a hat in there.”