Beautiful Terror (Burn It All Down Duet #2)

107. Piss-Poor Policing

CHAPTER 107

PISS-POOR POLICING

DEX

W atching Margaux from a distance has become a mix of pride, anguish, and white-hot fury. Every moment she pushes forward, takes a stand, or simply breathes through the chaos feels like a victory against the storm Timmy drags her through.

But it’s a storm she shouldn’t have to face at all.

The anniversary debacle was predictable. I didn’t expect anything different from Timmy—his selfishness, his ability to sour every significant moment, is legendary at this point.

Throwing the truck keys in the water? A childish tantrum.

Forcing her to endure public humiliation? Par for the course.

But Margaux sitting there, finishing her dinner while he sulked outside? That was resilience. Quiet, determined, and infuriatingly necessary resilience.

When she told Alice about how Timmy minimized her feelings and dismissed her yet again, my blood boiled. The audacity of that man to demand love and celebration when he can’t even muster basic respect.

But part of me was relieved.

Every selfish, toxic display is another crack in the illusion he’s managed to weave around her. His behavior paints him as the villain he is—and maybe this time she’ll see it clearly.

My rage, though, hits a different level when she tells Alice what Timmy did to her that night.

Rape.

There’s no other word for it.

She told him no.

She told him her boundaries.

And he violated her while she slept.

When she told Alice, I could see the anguish on her face, but she was matter-of-fact.

Detached.

Dissociating, her therapist had said.

Dissociation.

Of course. How else do you survive something so horrifying?

She shouldn’t have to survive this. She shouldn’t have to justify her rage, her pain. And yet she does, over and over, explaining it to herself as much as to the world.

And then there’s Phil.

Phil, the eternal enabler, the flying monkey to Timmy’s narcissistic games.

When Margaux told Alice about his response—‘it doesn’t sound like rape to me’—I wanted to put my fist through the nearest wall, as well as Phil’s skull.

How dare he?

How dare he dismiss her trauma—her reality—to defend his pathetic excuse for a son?

That man is as much a part of the problem as Timmy is. Maybe more .

Timmy learned how to be a monster from someone, and it’s clear now where it started.

But Margaux? She’s stronger than either of them will ever understand. That either of them ever could hope to be.

She’s seeing the patterns now. The gaslighting, the blame-shifting, the cycles of abuse. Her research into narcissistic abuse and DARVO is helping her untangle the web he’s spun around her.

It’s like watching someone wake up from a nightmare and realize they’ve been shackled all along.

When she told Alice she went to get the TRO, I felt something I haven’t felt in a long time—relief. She’s taking steps to protect herself, to draw a line in the sand that Timmy can’t cross.

It’s not easy—none of this is—but she’s doing it.

And I couldn’t be prouder.

The system, though? It’s infuriatingly slow.

Watching her navigate the red tape and the endless hoops she has to jump through just to protect herself makes me want to scream.

The fact that she had to beg for a TRO—that she had to sit in that courthouse recounting her trauma while knowing it might not be enough—is maddening.

And then the police, dismissing her describing Timmy’s raping her, because she’d had a drink?

Unacceptable.

What the hell kind of system punishes survivors for trying to cope?

But she’s not giving up. She’s not letting the system—or Timmy—win.

And that’s the thing about Margaux. No matter how many times she gets knocked down, she gets back up, stronger and more determined than before.

The way she’s been communicating with Timmy—calm, clear, direct—is a thing of beauty. I read the emails she sent him, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

They were perfect.

Her words are swords, slicing through his manipulation and leaving no room for interpretation. Brutal in their honesty, unflinching in their boundaries, and filled with a strength she doesn’t even realize she has.

Timmy’s frantic replies, his manipulative pleas—they’re just proof that she’s finally slipping out of his grasp.

I want to shield her from all of this, to swoop in and fix everything. But I know she needs to do this on her own.

It’s her fight—her victory.

I’ll be here, watching from the sidelines, ready to step in if she needs me.

But for now, I’ll keep cheering her on, proud and relieved with every step she takes toward freedom.

Because Margaux deserves more.

Much more than Timmy.

Much more than the lies and the violence and the chaos.

Margaux deserves peace.

And I’ll be damned if I don’t do everything in my power to help her find it.