Chapter 33 Margeaux
MARGEAUX
Fuck waiting any longer. I haven’t slept in a day and a half since I got that creepy letter from the fucker who’s stalking me. They took Jon!
I pull up to the cheap motel, just outside of town, where I went to college. It seems even dirtier and disgusting than I remember. All I’ve been thinking about is Jon, and if he’s okay. If this asshole hurt him, or…worse. I’ll never forgive myself.
Jon is the best person I’ve ever met, and I’ve been hating myself for even thinking he would just ghost me like I meant nothing to him.
If…when I get him out of here, we will work out a way to be closer, have less distance between us.
If that’s something he will even want after all of this.
I can’t imagine a guy like him thinking a girl like me is worth any time or energy after he’s been abducted and held captive by a guy who raped me in college.
I’ll totally understand if Jon is ready to wash his hands of me and go back to living his simple, quiet life in Paramount. Until he tells me that, he’s still mine and I’m getting us out of this fucking nightmare.
I know exactly which room he’s in. I look at the faded blue door and tacky gold doorknob.
I want to throw up so badly. Just standing outside this room makes my skin crawl.
I take one final scan around the parking lot.
Aside from one or two random cars, there’s nobody else here.
This is stupid, reckless. Love will make you do all sorts of things, I guess.
I raise my hand to knock and rethink that decision. Why the fuck should I perform any type of formality? I gently try the doorknob, and it’s locked. Of course. I put my ear to the door and don’t hear anything.
“Fuck it,” I grunt to myself as I put my boot to the door, slamming it open.
The afternoon sun fills the room. I ignore the cringey bed and only focus on one thing.
“Jon!” I run for him, taking in his limp body, tied to a fucking chair.
“Oh, no. Come on. Wake up, Jon.” I shake his arm, examining him.
His face has dried blood all over, plus some bad bruises on his cheeks.
His breathing is slow, but steady. “Jon, wake up, Doc. Please.” I’m doing my best to not cry.
I look around the room for something to cut off these fucking zip ties on his hands and feet.
Stupid me, I didn’t even think to bring a weapon. The least I could do was bring a fucking knife. Fuck, Doc. I’m sorry I’m so reckless and stupid. I kiss his chin and then get a strong smell of piss.
“Fuck. Did they make you piss yourself?” I whisper. I gotta get him out of here.
“Margeaux?” he rasps. His voice hoarse and mumbled.
“Yes, Jon. I’m here. It’s me,” I tell him, giving his face another kiss.
“Leave. Get out of here,” he says with more energy, but his words are still sluggish.
“Not without you, Doc. I just gotta figure out a way to cut these ties.” I keep looking around the small, musty-smelling room frantically.
“N-nylon,” he says, his head swinging like it’s on a swivel. Did the fucker drug him? I swear, I’m not the murderous type, but I’m willing to do time in prison if it rids the world of the crusty scum that did this to my Doc.
“Nylon? Stockings?” I ask, not understanding what he’s talking about.
“Shoelaces. Friction will cut the plastic,” he says with more alertness.
“Alright, Sherlock Holmes. I got you. I quickly unlace my sneakers, never more grateful for having such big feet. Extra-long laces to get through these ties. “I’m sorry. I thought you left me. I’m so sorry for thinking you would do that,” I ramble as I work the shoelace back and forth against his ties as quickly as possible.
“I love you, Margeaux,” he says, looking over his shoulder at me. “I know, this seems like the worst time to tell you, but I need to say it before I say anything else. I can’t have the last words you hear from me be shoelaces.”
I don’t know if I’m going to cry or laugh. I stop what I’m doing and brace my arms on both sides of the chair, pressing my lips to his. He hums, or groans. I’m not sure. But I can’t stop kissing him. It’s been too long since we felt each other and I want more of him, all of him.
“Aren’t you going to say it back to him?” I’m pulled out of our kiss by a voice I never expected to hear in this situation.
“Becca?!”
This can’t be possible. How is this possible? Becca’s responsible for all of this? I just saw her a few nights ago. She seemed totally normal at that club. There’s no way that she’s behind all of this.
“What’s the matter, Maggie? Cat got your tongue? Or maybe you lost it down your pathetic boyfriend’s throat,” she scoffs, giving me a look of pure hatred.
It’s only now that I register that she’s holding a giant knife. Yup, I definitely should have thought to bring a weapon. I look beside me, and Jon is still coming to, his eyes are glazed over, and he’s covered in sweat and blood and piss. Fuck Becca for doing this to him.
“What are you doing here, Becca? Are you working with Brian?” I ask, keeping my hands up, hoping she drops the knife so I can drop her. I’m ready to body slam her into the cheap dresser in the corner.
She laughs, sounding possessed.
“You would think Brian was behind this. You were such a simp for him.”
She’s fucking crazy. She thinks I was into Brian? I mean, maybe for a couple of hours, thanks to loads of alcohol and being young and na?ve.
“I fucking hate Brian. And you would know that if you bothered to be my friend after that alumni party. He fucking raped me that night. And where the fuck were you?! You were my best friend!”
“I know what he did to you! And it didn’t seem like you hated one second of it from where I was standing.
You seemed like more than a willing participant.
Just because he nailed and bailed, doesn’t mean you get to mask your regret as a rape.
I saw how much you wanted him. And he wasn’t saying or doing anything to you that I couldn’t have done. ”
What the fuck? I take half a step back, not believing what she’s saying to me right now. She truly believes I wanted to be over-served alcohol and then taken advantage of in a cheap motel room? How little does she think of me?
“Don’t fucking listen to her, Beautiful.
She’s out of her fucking mind,” Jon says, finally more with it than he was a couple of minutes ago.
He’s still bound to the chair. I know if I try to help him, Becca will do something crazy and unpredictable.
I just have to keep her on that side of the room, away from us with that knife. We’re gonna be okay.
Becca still looks like she did when we were younger. Her face has slightly sharper angles, the youthfulness gone from her features. Her dark eyes are darker, emptier. What happened to her?
“I was always there for you, Maggie.”
“Margeaux,” I correct her.
I’m not Maggie anymore. I’ll let my family slide with calling me that, but they’re grandfathered in. This crazy cunt has lost all allowances to call me Maggie.
“I was there for you. I was your best friend. We did everything together. And then you just dropped me for a fucking guy like I was nothing. And you’re doing it all over again for this nerd and a half.” She points her knife at Jon.
I’m trying to keep up with her. If anyone wants to understand why Becca is tearing my life apart and tormenting me, it’s me.
Becca’s not wrong. She and I were best friends until that night.
The way she’s making it sound is that I dropped her and left her like a bad habit.
I tried calling her for days after Brian attacked me.
I tried to explain what happened, but she never responded to my calls.
I’m not sure what type of twisted reality she’s been living in, but whenever she gets outwardly angry, she gets really twitchy with that knife. For Jon’s safety, I have to stop riling Becca up.
“What are you trying to tell me, Becca?” I ask.
More crazy laughter. Then she starts pacing side to side. Fuck, this is like a really fucked up scary movie. I’m pretty sure this is the part where Jon and I get hacked to pieces by the psycho stalker.
Taking advantage of her manic breakdown, Jon whispers to me, “Keep her talking. Keep her calm. Whatever she says to you isn’t real.
It’s her truth. You know what happened to you.
You got this, Beautiful.” How is this man able to remain so calm under these conditions?
I look into his dark eyes and see how wide his pupils are.
Oh, right. He’s super drugged up right now.
“What I’m trying to tell you, Margeaux,” Becca huffs, making me look away from Jon and back at her. “What should have been painfully obvious to you all those years ago…I love you, Margeaux! I’ve always loved you!”
I feel my jaw fall open, my brain short-circuiting.
What. The. Fuck?