In true Tell Me Lies fashion, Season 3 Episode 5 — “I’d Like to Hold Her Head Under Water” — brings even more chaos and emotional discomfort to viewers, It’s hard to watch the psychological damage Stephen’s emotional abuse has inflicted onto Lucy, a character who was once so confident in Season 1 now spiraling into a woman with no sense of self, seeking validation through the comfort of old wounds. Although Stephen and Lucy once started out as a messy, toxic situationship fueled with romantic chaos, her newest coping mechanism showcased at the end of Episode 5 proves this connection has evolved into something far more dark. This episode doesn’t just capture her spiraling — it highlights exactly why it’s happening in the first place.Â
Lucy’s encounter with Alex is a significant turning point, revealing no matter how far away she goes to get away from Stephen, she lives and thrives within the emotional patterns he instilled in her. On paper, Alex is completely unlike Stephen — grounded, self aware, and although emotionally unavailable, he is transparent about it, in a way Stephen never was. Although one would think she’d find comfort in a connection that provides even the slightest bit more security than her relationship with Stephen, she actually resents it. When Alex hears about the sexual assault rumor and tries to comfort Lucy (expressing genuine care in a way that hadn’t been presented to her before), she feels the need to pull back. But Alex’s concern is completely valid, given the nature of their relationship, which had already heavily relied on rough, dark, emotionally degrading sex. He believes she’s using it as a form of self harm and calls her out for it. Although he’s right, Stephen’s toxicity and mistreatment is so ingrained in her that she seeks it out in other places.Â
This pursuit for validation however, is nothing new. Her relationship with Leo in Season 2 is another reflection of her chasing intensity and reassurance, even though the relationship was clearly very unstable. Leo’s violent nature acted as a mirror for Stephen’s emotional manipulation, mistaking emotional extremes for connection. Being wanted — intensely, angrily, and sometimes even destructively — fueled a fire within her that became how she measured her worth. And when she inevitably lost that form of attention, when it slightly wavered or faltered, so did her sense of self. The only way to prove to herself that she matters is by earning love through suffering.Â
Episode 5 clearly stresses how Lucy’s past abusive relationship has rewired her nervous system to seek out comfort in things that cause the most familiar pain. After her hookup with Alex, who slows it down from their usual, aggressive nature, she becomes more withdrawn than ever. Left unfulfilled, she returns back to her dorm, and rather than pondering why that encounter left her feeling so uncomfortable, she turns to another form of self-harm. In the most jaw-dropping final minutes of the episode, Lucy retreats back to Stephen’s emotional manipulation as a form of release. In this unsettling moment, Lucy pleasures herself to a voicemail she sent Stephen’s sister, wherein he heavily insults and degrades her. This scene isn’t as much of a turn-on as it is a cry for help, rooted in trauma from the deep shame Stephen’s actions have instilled in her. She believes the only form of love she deserves is through being humiliated.Â
Lucy and Stephen’s relationship dynamic is influenced by desire, but not more so than it is emotional conditioning. Since Lucy’s perception of romance is tragically skewed, Stephen’s voice still resurfaces those repressed feelings of shame and control, but simultaneously provides her with the validation of being wanted. Indulging in these coping mechanisms isn’t empowering, it’s punishment disguised under the comfort of familiarity. It’s a self-sabotaging loop — a story of emotional pain and vulnerability as a result of trauma.Â
Lucy’s behavior very clearly illustrates her unresolved trauma, and how much Stephen (and Leo) conditioned her to believe that any form of romance should be overwhelming and chaotic. It’s a true representation of what happens when women stay in toxic relationships not because they want to, but because the abuse they’ve endured has conditioned them to think this is the best they’ll ever get. Her self-sabotage is learned, not random, and she doesn’t chase chaos because she enjoys feeling tortured — in reality, it makes her feel seen.Â
Lucy’s self-sabotage reflects something that many young women can resonate with: we often cling to what hurt us because it played such a vital role into who we’ve become, despite all the emotional turmoil. Letting go and cutting off that connection means confronting the damage, and sometimes, that’s more terrifying than staying stagnant.Â