Beautiful Terror (Burn It All Down Duet #2)

46. Back-Burner Barbie and Captain Delulu （Are Made For Each Other）

CHAPTER 46

BACK-BURNER BARBIE AND CAPTAIN DELULU (ARE MADE FOR EACH OTHER)

MARGAUX

A FEW DAYS LATER

Me:

Alice:

Dude. What now?

Me:

I’m a loser, apparently.

Alice:

Me:

I called him out on the stupid ho he banged at least twice.

It’s true. I couldn’t hold back. I’ve been ruminating about Skank Face, knowing she’s going to come back over and over again, trying to insert herself into his life. She’s like if herpes was a person.

I know she’s below me, and that I shouldn’t let someone like her spend any time living rent-free in my head. But I hate that she’s around, slowly circling Timmy like she has some weird addiction to him.

Knowing that he talked to her the same abusive way he talks to me now.

And that, according to their texts back and forth, he hit her, too.

Has he really ceased all communication with her? Why was she really a Facebook shortcut in his phone?

When I briefly dated Zeth, the ridiculously-named, Adderall-injecting mess, he used to do weird shit all the time—adding and deleting dating apps from his phone just because he could.

And Timmy is devious—I could totally see him messaging this Side Dish Sally, this Captain Cling-On—just to keep her on the hook in case things go bad with me.

And in general, just to piss me off.

Me:

I’m mad, and it’s irrational.

Alice:

It’s pretty close for comfort since he’s still in touch.

Me:

He’s apparently not talking to her.

But I went off anyway.

I’ve been very well-behaved for like 5 evenings, and now I just went off.

It’s fine.

My emotions are feeling cold.

Maybe I’m a psychopath now. Jk but

Alice:

I think it’s that you’re at the very end of your rope.

Me:

It’s a frayed rope.

Lol that he locks himself away from me. When he’s the violent one.

Okay, I’ll just… listen to music I like and chat with my friends?

Alice:

Yeah, what a horrible punishment?

Timmy comes back.

“You started a fight with me,” he glares at me.

“Well, I’m mad at you,” I reply, not backing down.

“I’m leaving again, then,” he says. “I don’t need to put up with your bullshit.”

“Good,” I say, defiant. “Don’t come back.”

He picks something up off the counter and hurls it at me. It’s a cockroach.

I flick it off myself and run up to him, and I grab onto his arm, scratching him in the process. “Fuck you!” I scream.

“You’re so abusive, Margaux,” he says. “I can’t be around you when you’re like this.” And then he heads out the front door.

A while later, I glance at Find My iPhone. For once he hasn’t blocked me, and I can see he’s at the beach, over by the meth tents are per usual. He’s become a real frequent flier over there.

I text him.

Me:

Goodbye, freak show.

Enjoy your stupid life with your friends you met on the beach.

The thing is, I’ve stopped giving any fucks.

The thought of a life without Timmy and all his violence and constant drama seems like a beautiful thing.

He’s tried so hard to make me terrified of him leaving me, but now it sounds like a fucking party to not have to worry about him.

I don’t need him, and I never have.

He pretended to be a nice person, but he’s actually just a horrible insecure little man in a giant body.

I’m no longer worried that he’ll show my messages to his dad or anyone else completely out of context to garner sympathy.

I share a screenshot of my freak show message with Alice.

Me:

Friendly words (actually just exhausted from his shit).

Alice:

Totally understand.

I’d be fucking furious!

Me:

Haha.

I’m done with subtlety, but was I ever subtle?

I’m marinating in my bitterness and it feels quite good, honestly. Allowing myself to feel all the feelings that I’ve kept trapped in my body for the past however many months.

Alice:

No.

Not at all!

Hahaha.

Me:

Also, when he does come back, he will most likely accuse me of talking to a guy again. Bc you make me smirk in the best way, and he thinks I’m blushing when I am LAUGHING bc my friend is funny AF.

Timmy returns, and immediately heads to the shower. He knows that will piss me off, and he’s trying to make me think he’s cleaning his dick or something.

Disgusting and vile, just like him.

A while later, he emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered.

“If you must know, I was over there saving someone whose finger was basically falling off,” he says, his tone pompous. “Taking care of nice people, doing the right thing.” He glares at me. “Unlike you … you know, why do you have to be so evil ?”

“Yep, that’s me. Evil as fuck.” I roll my eyes, not even trying to disguise my contempt.

The way Timmy paints himself as a savior, the neighborhood hero, is such a joke.

And to call me evil? Okay, Captain Delulu.

“Well, you’re going to need to get off that bed because it’s mine,” he says, gesturing toward the mattress.

“Well, if you’re going to be like that, you’re going to need to get out of this apartment because I pay for it,” I gesture around the room.

Game on, Petty Betty.

“You can take the mattress and go hang out with your dangling-finger Captain Hook friend and see how your life goes,” I add. “Put it right out there on the beach.”

Timmy intentionally puts a sci-fi movie on that he knows I won’t like.

So I put my headphones on and blare Machine Gun Kelly.

Two can play this game. As fucked up as it is.

And I’m a stubborn Taurus, after all.