Defending the Monster Who Ruined Me

The teenager my defense attorney girlfriend had defended put thumbtacks in my running shoes. They bit deep into my skin, leaving my feet dripping with blood.

And once again, she apologized on his behalf. The doctor was sterilizing the wounds and prepping the syringe.

The needle was long, sinking deep into my flesh, and the sharp, hot sting made me sob out loud. "Mary, how many times is this?

How many times have you said sorry to me because of Toby?" Her expression faltered. She looked at me, her eyes meeting my red, raw stare. "Fiftyone," I told her.

An average of once a week. Ever since she took Toby’s case, our eighth year together had been swallowed by her endless loop of apologies.

My voice was still trembling, but I wiped my face dry. "Mary, I’m done." "I’m exhausted.

Aren’t you?" … "I'm sorry." She stayed quiet for a long time before she finally let the words slip out. I let go of her hand. I have always been terrified of needles.

For as long as we had been together, whenever I had to get a shot, she would automatically reach out and let me squeeze her hand as tight as I needed to.

Not today. "Mary, if I hear you say that word again, I’m going to throw up." She kept her eyes downcast, staring at my bandaged feet, knowing I couldn't even walk. "I'll make Toby come over and apologize to you properly." "Zack, I promise.

This is the absolute last time." When Toby finally showed up, he was already sniffling, his shoulders shaking with performative tears. "I'm so sorry, Zack. It was an accident.

I dropped the pack of tacks and didn't realize one fell inside your shoe." I didn't even have time to react before Mary accepted his excuse. "Zack, the security footage from the hallway is too blurry to see anything.

We can't just assume he did it on purpose." It was the exact same defense she had mounted for him a dozen times before. "Let's just let it go." The blood was still seeping through my bandages. "You apologize for him, Mary.

You let it go for me.

You really have a seamless way of handling things, don't you?" Detecting the sharp sarcasm in my voice, Mary’s forehead creased, and her tone rose defensively. "He already said it was an accident!

What else do you want from him?" "What will make you happy?

Tell me what kind of apology you want, and I'll do it myself." She pulled at her silk scarf, loosening it as she stared at me as if I were some kind of unfeeling monster. "Toby is just a kid.

He isn't as malicious as you think." "You're years older than him. Why do you have to be so incredibly petty?" Her chest heaved.

In the past, when we reached this point, I would back down. I was always too tired to argue, too intimidated by her sharp, triallawyer intensity, and so I would let it slide.

But today, looking at Toby—who had somehow made it to our apartment ahead of us and was already busy in the kitchen—I couldn't pretend anymore.

Hearing the door click, Toby poked his head out. "Zack! I figured you hadn't eaten yet, so I came over early to make dinner. Think of it as my way of saying sorry.

I'm actually a pretty good cook. While you were away on your business trips, I always came over to cook for Mary." He had his fingerprint registered on our smart lock.

He was wearing slippers that matched Mary’s. He was wearing my loungewear.

His hands moved with practiced ease through our cabinets, searching for ingredients, while those words—"I always came over"—hung heavily in the air.

Having gone straight to the clinic the moment I got back from my trip, I was only now noticing the foreign fingerprints left all over my life. "Mary, did he come over often while I was away?" She bit her lip. "He dropped out of school, Zack.

He was lonely and said he wanted to cook for me. It was just a nice gesture.

It didn't harm anyone." My swollen eyes throbbed, sending a sharp ache through my temples. "It harmed me." In those fiftyone apologies Mary had offered, there was the time Toby broke the watch I left in her car.

The times she abandoned our plans to bail him out of trouble. The times Toby crashed our dates, forcing his way into our space.

The times he "accidentally" tripped me or spilled hot soup on my skin, leaving me with minor burns. I pointed a finger at Toby, my voice cold. "Pay me back for the medical bills.

Not just today's—all of them." I named a figure. Beside me, Mary’s jaw went rigid. I kept going. "And take off my clothes.

Now." "Enough!" The shout tore from Mary’s throat, loud and sharp. "I told him he could wear those!

He stayed over last night because it got too late, so I found him something of yours to change into." "It's just a set of clothes, Zack." "If you're going to make a scene over it, I'll buy you the exact same brandnew set tomorrow!" "That is not the point!" I screamed back, the anger finally breaking through, ugly and raw.

The veins on the back of her hands bulged as she glared at me. "What is the point then? You just hate him! I'll pay you whatever money you want. Ten times over!

Is that enough?!" "Why do you have to torment a teenage boy like this?" My ears rang from the shouting, my palms growing cold and numb as I struggled to breathe. "You'll pay for him?

By what right do you represent him? He's a convicted juvenile delinquent, Mary. Where did you get this sudden, overwhelming sense of maternal duty?

He is doing this to me on purpose. Are you blind, or are you just pretending to be?" The argument degenerated into a screaming match. "You were just his public defender.

His mother hired your firm, and your job ended when the verdict was delivered. There are stateappointed social workers to keep tabs on him. But he clings to you, and you let him.

Can't you see he's obsessed with you?" "Zack, shut your mouth!" "Where is your basic empathy? How can you be so vicious?

Yes, he made a mistake, but does his past have to chain him for the rest of his life? You keep throwing 'juvenile delinquent' in his face.

What makes you think you're so superior?" While we tore into each other, Toby looked like he couldn't bear it anymore and bolted out the door.

Mary turned to chase him, but I threw myself in front of her, tears finally spilling over my lashes. "Don't go!" "If you walk out that door today, we are done." Mary didn't even look at my tears.

Her face was flushed with pure fury. "Zack, I've told you before." "Toby only bullied those kids because his parents neglected him.

He did bad things because he grew up starved for love." "He isn't bad at his core." "Even the court only ordered rehabilitation and checkins." "What right do you have to judge him?" "I defended him.

I believed in him, so he trusts me and listens to me.

He wants to change." "Why should I abandon him?" "Should I be coldblooded like you and just throw a kid's future in the trash?" She delivered those last words slowly, icecold. "Honestly, Zack, I'm starting to wonder if you did something to provoke him first." Her phone began to buzz.

Toby’s name flashed across the cracked screen, persistent and haunting. I reached out to stop her from answering. She shoved me out of the way.

The force of it sent me crashing hard against the wall. With my injured foot, I couldn't hold my balance. I collapsed onto the floor.

Her phone slipped from her fingers, hitting the hardwood with a sharp crack as a spiderweb of fractures spread across the glass. Mary’s eyes widened with anger.

A dull, nauseating pain radiated from my tailbone up through my spine and down into my lower abdomen.

Every breath felt like inhaling glass. "Mary... help me up..." But her eyes were fixed on the phone.

Her fingers scrambled nervously, slipping three or four times before she finally managed to swipe the screen and pick up.

Then she grabbed my arm, trying to haul me off the floor. "You're coming with me." "You're going to apologize to Toby for what you just said!" Toby’s voice leaked through the receiver, highpitched and hysterical. "I don't want to see him!

I don't! Keep him away!" I struggled against her grip like a dying animal, and she let go. I fell back down, hitting the floor hard for a second time.

The apartment darkened as the sun fully dipped below the horizon.

Mary walked out, her face caught half in light and half in shadow from the hallway bulb. "And one more thing." "Even if Toby does have a crush on me, so what?" "He's a teenage boy.

It's normal to have feelings. He just needs proper guidance." "Not whatever this is.

You're losing your mind and throwing tantrums over a child." "This isn't about you threatening to break up." "It's about whether you can take responsibility if Toby runs out of here and does something drastic to himself." My fingers curled into tight fists against the cold floor.

I lay there, drained of the strength to even whisper a response. My physical wounds slowly closed, leaving behind pale, ugly scars.

But along with the healing, something else had quietly died inside me. My twentyseventh birthday arrived.

My friends blindfolded me, gently guiding me along the pavement until we reached our destination. "Happy birthday!" The blindfold was slipped off, and the sky above erupted in a brilliant sequence of fireworks.

Confetti rained down as my friends cheered, their faces bright with laughter.

As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw Mary kneeling on one knee before me on the beautifully decorated rooftop terrace. "Zack, happy birthday." "Will you marry me?" She looked incredibly soft, her eyes warm and clear—a stark contrast to the woman who had screamed at me in our living room. "I didn't call you these past few weeks because I wanted to give you space.

And... I was getting this ready." This was the city’s most exclusive rooftop bar, a place with a monthslong waiting list.

She had arranged custom fireworks and scattered white peonies across the floor.

It must have taken immense effort. "I've taken care of everything, Zack." "I transferred Toby’s case to another attorney.

He won't be in our lives anymore." "Zack, let's get married." The crowd erupted. "Say yes! Say yes!" "I..." Before I could form a word, Mary’s phone rang. Once. Twice.

Her hand holding the ring box trembled slightly. Her jaw tightened. But she answered it.

She held up a finger, gesturing for our friends to wait, and gently pushed my shaking hand down.

Only a few muffled sounds came through the speaker, but I distinctly heard the words: "...waiting for you." I knew this scene by heart.

So many times, Mary had been called away just like this because Toby claimed he had messed up, because Toby was sad, because Toby needed her. A vein throbbed at Mary’s temple.

She hastily pressed the ring box into my palm. "Zack." "I'm sorry." Fiftysecond apology.

On the very first day of my twentyseventh year. "When I get back, I'll propose to you again.

Properly." She turned and sprinted toward the exit, the wind whipping her coat around her.

The awkward silence, the pitying looks, and the embarrassed whispers of my friends all crashed down on me. "Mary, where the hell do you think you're going—" one of my friends yelled, but her voice was swallowed by the wind.

Mary pushed open the heavy door to the lower observation deck. "Toby, get down from there right now!" Toby was sitting precariously on the safety railing, his body swaying over the drop, his face twisted with frantic obsession. "Today is my eighteenth birthday too, Mary.

You haven't even said happy birthday to me." Mary rubbed her aching temples. She had been pushed past the point of anger, left completely drained. "Fine.

Happy birthday." "Just step down. If you get off that railing, I'll celebrate with you.

We can do whatever you want." Toby’s entire face lit up. "Whatever I want?" "Then I want you to cancel your proposal. I want you to be my girlfriend!" Mary’s footsteps froze.

The warmth drained from her face, leaving her eyes cold and dark.

Startled by her look, Toby’s confidence crumbled, and he began to cry, leaning back slightly over the edge. "If not forever... then just for a year? Six months? A month?" "A week?

Just one week!" He sobbed, shifting his weight further back. "Mary, is even a week too much?

If you don't say yes, I'm going to jump!" The moment he showed vulnerability, Mary’s expression softened. But as he leaned further, panic took over.

She lunged forward, her voice cracking with terror as she screamed the agreement. "Okay! Yes! I'll be your girlfriend!

Just don't jump!" Toby’s tears vanished, replaced by a triumphant grin.

He threw himself off the railing and directly into Mary’s arms, wrapping his limbs around her in a tight grip.

Mary froze for a fraction of a second, uncomfortable, before her hand slowly came up to pat his back. "Thud." My hand went slack, and the ring box slipped through my fingers, bouncing once on the concrete.

Still holding Toby, Mary spun around. I was standing in the narrow doorway of the deck.

As her eyes widened in shock, a quiet smile touched my lips. "I'm leaving." My friend hurried after me, her voice frantic. "Zack!

Zack, wait, where are you going?" I reached up and gently wiped away the tears of frustration on her cheek. "I'm going home. I'm just the exboyfriend now.

It doesn't feel right to stay." Mary didn't return to our apartment until days later. She seemed surprised to find me awake. "Why are you back?" I asked, my voice flat.

She lowered her gaze. "I just came to pack a few things. Toby is in a really fragile state right now.

I need to keep an eye on him." When I didn't answer, she let out a tired sigh. "Zack, you saw what happened.

I didn't have a choice." I didn't say a word, continuing to fold my shirts. Mary’s brows knit together.

She stepped forward, grabbing my wrist to stop me from reaching into the closet.

But when she saw that the clothes I was handling were all hers, her anger seemed to dissipate. "You don't need to pack all of this for me." "I'll only be gone a few days.

I don't need this much." I looked at her, my expression entirely empty. "Pack as much as you can.

I'm putting the apartment on the market." The clothes slipped from her grip, falling to the floor in a quiet, heavy heap.

Mary grabbed my collar, her words hissed through clenched teeth. "Zackary, what kind of game is this?" "I already explained it to you!

He's a highly sensitive teenager going through a crisis. I am just humoring him to keep him safe.

It doesn't mean anything!" I met her furious, desperate glare. "Mary, we started dating on my eighteenth birthday, too." She didn't get it.

Or perhaps she chose not to. "What does that have to do with anything? Was I supposed to let him die? Why do you have to be so incredibly dramatic?" I didn't answer.

Over the next few days, Mary busybodied herself playing the doting girlfriend for Toby. They acted as if they were cramming an entire lifetime of romance into a few short days.

Meanwhile, I spent my time packing my life into boxes and listing the apartment. Every now and then, my phone would buzz with photos from an unknown number.

Pictures of Mary and Toby together. I thought my heart was already numb to her. But life always finds a way to prove you wrong.

On the day the apartment officially went up for sale, I went to the clinic to pick up my medical results.

After nearly nine months of careful treatment and lifestyle changes, my health metrics had finally reached the standard.

The plans we had made to start a family were finally within reach. But the weather was miserable.

The rain hung in the air, refusing to fall, leaving the atmosphere thick and suffocating.

My chest felt just as heavy. "I had an injury some months ago," I told the doctor, my voice trembling as the tears began to blur my vision. "I fell hard.

My lower abdomen was in severe pain, but I didn't think much of it at the time.

Afterward, I felt weak, and once I even coughed up a bit of blood, but I assumed it was just a stomach ulcer from all the stress." My words felt clumsy, coming out slow and disjointed.

The doctor let out a soft sigh, looking at me with pity. "Try to stay calm. I've scheduled a comprehensive contrast scan for you tomorrow morning.

We need to evaluate the extent of the internal scarring and see if the trauma permanently impacted your reproductive health." I don't know how Mary tracked me down, but she was waiting outside the clinic. "Zack, did you really list the apartment?" Just looking at her made a phantom pain flare up in my abdomen. "Zack, I'm talking to you!" The medical envelope slipped from my hand, spilling the papers onto the floor.

Mary leaned down and gathered them. As she read the words on the page, her face went entirely pale. "Zack... we were trying for a baby?

We're going to have a child?" Her hand reached out, trembling, wanting to touch my face but stopping inches away. "I'm coming home tonight.

I'll take care of you." "Why didn't you tell me?" I let out a dry, hollow laugh. "Aren't you in a relationship?" Her eyes darted away guiltily. "Zack, none of that is real.

Besides, the seven days I promised him... today is the sixth day. Just wait for me. Toby is actually downstairs right now.

I'll go down and make everything clear to him once and for all." Make things clear?

How could anything be clear when Toby suddenly charged through the clinic doors, a kitchen knife glittering in his hand, plunging it straight into my stomach?

His face was twisted into something feral, unrecognizable. "I won't let you take her! She's mine! She belongs to me!" "I'm telling you, we've done everything!

If you can give her a baby, I can give her the rest of my life!" The blade felt cold at first.

Then came a searing, whitehot agony that felt like my internal organs were being torn to shreds. Blood began to pool, hot and fast, soaking through my shirt.

At first, Mary just stood there, paralyzed. She had believed Toby when he said he wanted to come up alone to offer me a final, sincere apology.

She believed him right up until the metal caught the fluorescent light. The storm that had been brewing all day finally broke.

The rain came down in a deafening sheet, washing the blood across the concrete outside the clinic doors.

I watched Mary scramble toward me on her knees, completely stripping away the cool, collected demeanor she usually wore like armor.

I never knew rain could make a person feel so cold. My vision began to fray at the edges, dissolving into dark patches. "Zack—" "Don't close your eyes!

Look at me, please, I'm begging you, look at me!" Mary was screaming, her voice raw and ruined, competing with the thunder. Rain, tears, and blood all ran together on her hands.

Just minutes ago, she had looked into my eyes and promised, "From now on, it'll just be the three of us." But Mary. Look at us now. Where is our "us" supposed to go?