Beautiful Terror (Burn It All Down Duet #2)

105. April Fool

CHAPTER 105

APRIL FOOL

MARGAUX

A s I text Phil, my hands shake with a combination of fury and resolve. Timmy is still not back—he’s in hiding—and the cops haven’t been able to find him to speak with him.

I’m guessing he’s fled to Matty’s, because he has nowhere else to go.

My message is blunt and pointed—there’s no longer room for diplomacy.

Me:

He’s on the run from the cops.

But one of them is dumb, so he will probably be fine.

If he catches them they might date.

Your son is being charged with rape like he should be.

They just can’t find him bc he is in a meth tent.

Take your rapist son.

He brings nothing productive. He works for 20 minutes a day if that, asks me how to do everything he could google for himself, and wants a medal for working.

Meanwhile, I work 16+ hours a day and don’t rape anyone.

Please remove him.

Also, for your information, I told my friend in writing after it happened, so there is contemporaneous evidence of sexual assault.

It wasn’t the first time he has done it.

He does laugh about it. Thinks it’s hilarious.

So for you to try to discourage me from charges is gross.

As I send the messages, I feel the weight of my words pressing down on my chest. But it’s a good kind of weight. A liberating kind.

In the morning, I make my way to the courthouse, each step a blend of fear and determination.

The intake staff hand me a colored wristband that designates my purpose—here to file, not to defend.

Sitting down, I start filling out the paperwork. My hands tremble as I detail every horrific incident.

An advocate comes over and sits beside me. Her presence is warm, reassuring. “Take your time,” she says gently. “This isn’t easy, but you’re doing the right thing.”

We go through my story together, and her guidance makes me feel seen, reminding me I’m not alone. That other people go through this. That other people know how to navigate this.

When I finish, she hands me a resource pamphlet from the National Center on Domestic and Sexual Violence. “Read this when you’re ready. It might help you process everything.”

I return in a few hours to find the judge has signed off on the order. I’m advised the TRO will be sent to the local police station, and officers there will attempt to serve it as soon as possible.

It feels like a small victory, but the battle is far from over.

At home, I open the pamphlet and flip through the pages until I land on the Power and Control Wheel .

It’s meant to be a tool for understanding abusive dynamics, and as I read through each section, I start marking off everything that applies to Timmy:

Coercion and threats: Making and/or carrying out threats to do something other than hurt her. Threatening to leave her, commit suicide, or report her to welfare. Making her drop charges. Making her do illegal things.

Check.

Intimidation: Making her afraid by using looks, actions and gestures. Smashing things. Destroying her property. Abusing pets. Displaying weapons.

Check.

Emotional abuse: Putting her down. Making her feel bad about herself. Calling her names. Making her think she’s crazy. Playing mind games. Humiliating her. Making her feel guilty.

Check.

Isolation: Controlling what she does, who she sees and talks to, what she reads, and where she goes. Limiting her outside involvement. Uses jealousy to justify actions.

Check.

Minimizing, Denying & Blaming: Making light of the abuse and not taking her concerns about it seriously. Saying the abuse didn’t happen. Shifting responsibility for abusive behavior. Saying she caused it.

Check.

Using children: Making her feel guilty about the children. Using the children to relay messages. Using visitation to harass her. Threatening to take the children away.

N/A, but kind of tries with Sabre.

Economic abuse: Preventing her from getting or keeping a job. Making her ask for money. Giving her an allowance. Taking her money. Not letting her know about or have access to family income.

Check—erodes my savings and steals any funds he has access to, and secretly receives money from his dad.

Male Privilege: Treating her like a servant: making all the big decisions, acting like the ‘master of the castle.’ Being the one to define men’s and women’s roles.

Check, kind of. Just in the way he’s much bigger and uses that to create a scary power dynamic.

Then I move on to a section called What are the Characteristics of an Abusive Relationship?

Are you afraid of your partner?

Check.

Does your partner control your finances?

No, because he has no way to. But he wastes my finances…I guess eroding them is controlling them in a way.

Does your partner accuse you of having affairs?

Regularly.

Does your partner threaten to kill you if you leave the relationship?

Sort of. He threatens to kill me, period.

Has your partner ever physically hurt you or threatened to physically hurt you or someone you care about?

Yes.

Does your partner often put you down, call you names, undermine your self esteem and confidence?

Yes, all of it.

Does your partner ever force you into sexual activities that make you feel uncomfortable?

Yes, even though his dad says it’s fine.

Does your partner try to control where you go, who you are with and what you do?

Yes.

Does your partner threaten to kill him/herself if you leave the relationship?

Yes .

Have you stopped seeing family and friends to avoid your partner’s jealousy or anger?

Yes .

And the absolute kicker, as if the others weren’t enough:

Do you constantly worry about your partner’s moods and alter your behavior to deal with them?

All. The. Fucking. Time.

Here it is. Staring me in the face.

I’m a data-driven person, and—while I knew what I had been feeling all along—here’s hard evidence, right in front of me.

Timmy is an abuser.

And I one hundred percent did the right thing by filing this restraining order.

Now I just need the local cops to do their part and serve the bloody thing.

In Timmy’s absence, I update my friend Stacey, and we research the crap out of narcissism, messaging back and forth. That’s one of Stacey’s superpowers, just like mine—we can find out anything about any topic, and we’re very thorough.

With each layer we uncover, we discover that Timmy checks all the boxes for narcissistic personality disorder and then some.

Stacey:

You realize people like him don’t change, right?

Me:

Well, maybe he just hasn’t had the right environment or support.

He hasn’t lived with his parents since he was a teenager, so maybe he hasn’t been around the right influences.

Stacey:

But you haven’t lived with your parents since you were a teenager either, and look how much you’ve accomplished.

You didn’t use it as an excuse to act out or expect people to take care of you.

You forged a career and you worked and you made friends and a chosen family.

He had the same opportunities as you did, if not more, and he chose to fritter it away on a diet of drugs and alcohol and violent behaviors, predominantly against women.

I know she’s right, but I find myself defending him, holding out a naive hope that maybe he’s the exception, despite the data.

Me:

I know what the statistics say, but he really seems to be trying.

And there’s a really small percentage of people who can turn this around.

I’m seeing progress, truly.

Stacey isn’t one to sugarcoat, and she’s not going to go along with my delusions.

Stacey:

Well, I’m telling you now… based on past behavior and statistics, this is unlikely to change. This relationship is toxic and you clearly love him, but he doesn’t deserve to be with someone like you.

Me:

But he makes me feel so loved and wanted and needed. He makes me feel beautiful.

Stacey:

He also breaks your skull, my dear. That’s not normal behavior.

Going over to meth tents is not normal behavior.

Stealing laundry money to go buy cheap bottles of vodka, breaking your things—breaking you—is not normal behavior.

You don’t deserve that. Your life could be so much more peaceful without him.

I know she’s right. But part of me is holding out hope that he’s going to be one of the few men who can defy the statistics. Who truly wants to change so much that he’s willing to put the effort in to become an entire new human—a gentle, loving man with a solid work ethic who would do anything for his family.

But the more I’m honest with myself, the more I have a nagging feeling in my gut that we’re never going to reach a point in our relationship where we can have a healthy discussion about boundaries.

Every time I try to establish one, he breaks it almost immediately. And then he acts remorseful, before going right back to doing the same thing or worse.

And then it becomes my fault, and most certainly my problem.

It’s hard to function like this, but some stubborn child within me is insistent on sitting up on Delulu Peak, watching all the other people and thinking there’s something special about me that can fix Timmy. Something special about our relationship that means he is truly capable of change.