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WHIPLASH

T wenty minutes pass before my phone buzzes again. Timmy’s name flashes across the screen.

Timmy:

I’m almost home where you should be and I hope you have a good time.

Good night love of my life.

I don’t know what to make of his text. I don’t respond, and then more start flooding in.

Timmy:

I’m so sorry, do whatever you have to do.

I love you. I love you so much.

I’m at home now.

I would’ve grabbed you but I had zero gas, and I was lucky enough for someone to help me.

I just wanna to go to bed and cuddle with Sabre.

You do what you’ve gotta do.

I wish you would’ve just come home with me.

I wish I never took him.

I took you that way, and now I hope you guys have fun.

I really wish the best for you.

I love you. Bye.

The tone of his messages shifts so abruptly from rage to regret that I can hardly make sense of it. Has he really calmed down? Or is this just the eye of the storm?

Something feels off. His words are laced with blame disguised as an apology. It’s like he’s painting himself as the calm, reasonable one while I’m the villain running off to ‘hang out with a fourteen-year-old.’ A twisted narrative that makes him the victim of some imagined betrayal, and me the monster. It’s manipulative. But worse, it’s dangerous. I’ve seen how quickly his mood swings can shift, and I know this fragile peace won’t last long.

I feel the knot of anxiety tighten in my chest. I need to get home—now. I need to make sure Sabre is safe before Timmy spirals again, or worse, lashes out in ways I won’t be able to control. I repeat it in my head like a mantra: Just stay calm. Be rational. Hopefully, he’ll go to sleep and wake up in the morning as himself—whatever version of ‘normal’ that may be.

When I finally reach the apartment, my heart races. I fumble with the keypad, swing the door open—and with relief, I see he’s not here.

“Sabre!” I call out, panic seizing my chest.

A soft meow answers from the corner of the room, and relief floods me so intensely I nearly collapse. I rush over and scoop him into my arms, burying my face in his fur. He purrs, his warmth grounding me, momentarily cutting through the storm in my mind .

“I’ll never let anybody hurt you,” I whisper into his fur, my voice trembling. “I promise.”

I hold him close, savoring the comfort of having him safe, until the sound of the front door beeping makes my heart stutter. The door swishes open, and Timmy steps inside.

Timmy’s face is a strange mix of sheepishness and sorrow, his eyes downcast as he trudges toward me. He looks almost like a child caught doing something wrong.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, hurrying over to wrap his arms around me. I flinch instinctively, but he holds on, his voice soft and full of regret. “I just got really overwhelmed. I can’t handle big groups of people. I get so agitated in situations like that, and I wasn’t expecting it today.”

His words seem reasonable, almost understandable. I know people who need mental preparation before being around crowds—even I sometimes feel that way. But something about his explanation doesn’t sit right. Timmy seeks out attention from strangers all the time. He’s the kind of person who thrives in chaotic environments—bars, clubs, spontaneous encounters.

And his behavior wasn’t in line with the actions of someone who was having an anxious moment—he was literally insane.

“I should’ve been more careful,” I say, as guilt prickles uncomfortably at my skin. “I didn’t know the group would be so big until the last minute. I’ll try to make sure you know what to expect next time.”

The words feel hollow, but I mean them. Maybe I could’ve handled the situation better. Maybe I do need to do more to help him cope.

Timmy nods and wipes his face. “I wasn’t trying to upset you. And I shouldn’t have driven Jackson so far. I was just trying to show him a good time.”

“You told him some really disgusting stories, Timmy,” I say softly, the memory of his words still making my skin crawl. “It was disrespectful to me—and to him.”

His frown deepens, and he looks down at the floor. “I know,” he whispers. “I don’t know what got into me. I was just trying to impress him.”

Suddenly, tears well up in his eyes, and before I can react, they spill over. “Margaux, I need you to help me. I want to be better. I need to be better. I can’t do it without you. I don’t want to be this way anymore. I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

Despite the anger simmering in my chest, and the fear scratching at my skin, my heart twists painfully.

He looks so genuine, so broken. And for a moment, all I want is to believe him. To believe that this version of Timmy—the remorseful one—can stick around.

“You threatened to kill Sabre.” My voice breaks as I say it aloud, the weight of those words too much to bear. “And you threatened to kill me .”

Tears pour freely down my face as I think about how close I came to losing everything I love.

“I would never hurt you or Sabre,” Timmy insists, his voice cracking with emotion. He sobs openly now, his shoulders shaking. “I was just really upset. I swear, I love Sabre—I could never hurt him. And I love you, Margaux. You’re the love of my life. I don’t know why I said those things. I thought... I thought you were cheating on me with the kid.” He shakes his head violently. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

The exhaustion weighs down on me like a lead blanket. I’m so tired. Tired of the rage, the apologies, the fear, the endless cycle of highs and lows. But this time... this time, he’s owning it. For once, he’s not deflecting or denying what happened. And I just don’t have the energy to fight anymore.

This whole situation feels surreal—like something from a nightmare that I keep waiting to wake up from. It would be easier to believe it isn’t real. Easier to let his apology wash over me and move on. I can’t afford another fight. Not tonight.

“I’m sorry,” Timmy says again, his voice soft and pleading.

I swallow hard, forcing down the lump in my throat. I could keep questioning, keep pressing, keep trying to hold him accountable— but right now, I just want peace. I want to pretend, for a little while, that everything will be okay.

So I let the emotions drift away, floating like debris in a river, and I just nod.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, the words slipping from my mouth like a release valve. “Let’s just... move on.”

Timmy pulls me into a tight embrace, burying his face in my neck. His tears dampen my skin, and I feel his body relax against mine as if my forgiveness has given him permission to let go of his guilt.

I stand here, numb, letting him hold me.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll have the strength to unpack what happened. But not tonight.

For now, I’ll take the peace, however fleeting it may be.