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GUESS I DIDN’T NEED ANY OF THEM, ANYWAY?

Anonymous:

Hey. You okay?

Me:

Who’s this?

Anonymous:

You know who this is. You’ve had my number for years.

Me:

Sorry. All my numbers in my phone got deleted.

Anonymous:

Oh, weird. It’s Dex.

Me:

Dex!! So good to hear from you.

Dex:

Glad you remember me, haha.

H ow could I forget?

Now I feel guilty for having that immediate thought.

Dex:

How’d all your contacts get deleted?

I have the urge to write back ‘because my fiancé is a sociopath and thought it would be a good idea to go into my phone and delete all my contacts,’ but instead I reply:

Me:

Long story. Let’s just call it a technical glitch.

Dex:

Right. Anyway, I just wanted to check in on you. It’s been a while.

I feel butterflies…well, not so much butterflies as a comfortable warmth in my chest. It’s been so long since I’ve spoken to him, but he’s always made me feel… I don’t know. Special, cared for.

Me:

I’m good! Enjoying life on the Cay.

Dex:

Good to hear.

Timmy walks out of the bathroom and back into the living room, and immediately leans over to look at my phone.

“Who are you talking to?”

I put my phone down.

“No one. Just my brother’s friend. He checks in from time to time.”

“Weird. What did you tell him?”

“Oh, barely anything. Just that I’m enjoying island life here with you.”

He nods. “Good. Let’s watch the rest of this movie and then fuck.”

He jumps onto the bed and pulls me close. I snuggle into his arms, and I feel safe and secure.

Thoughts of Dex melt away.

Dex

The moment she says all her contacts had been deleted, I know exactly who had done it and why. It’s that Timmy creep. Trying to control her by moving her all the way to the other side of the island they’re living on. And then deleting contacts for everyone she’s ever known.

What a petty, controlling little fuck he is. It’s dangerous, removing contacts that someone might rely on, whether it’s for work or social reasons. Who would do that to a woman? Especially a woman like Margaux. It’s depraved, idiotic. And it shows who he really is at his core. I just wish she could see it.

But she played it all off casually, and it wouldn’t have been right for me to jump in and tell her what I really think. Not yet. Even though I’d really like to have a conversation with this Timmy fellow. Me and him, alone in a room. Oh, I know exactly what I’d do. And it wouldn’t be my mouth that would be doing the talking.

I clench one of my fists and roll it around, examining the landscape of scars that have developed over similar conversations with people. All of those have been for work.

But with Timmy, it would be personal—for fun.

To avenge Margaux and all the shit he’s put her through, that he’s continuing to put her through. What I’d give to see the look on his face when it’s just me and him. When he doesn’t have a vulnerable, trusting woman falling for his bullshit.

When he only has me to answer to.