Page 15 of My Brutal Beast

I’m shaking now. Raven holds me tighter and stares so deeply into my eyes that I feel like I’m drowning. Then he says the words I’ve always longed to hear: “You are important. You deserve to be loved, to feel safe. You are and have always been enough. I am so sorry that your parents didn’t show that to you, that your friends didn’t, but I will.”

He wipes the tears from my eyes. “You don’t have to believe me now. You don’t even have to trust me. But I can say without question that I will show you. I would die for you, I will live for you, and if the feeling pounding through my heart right now is love, then know I will give it all to you. You are worth that, Cassandra. You are worth everything. Can you let me show that to you, my little star?”

My heart shatters into a million pieces. It feels as if he’s the start to healing every wound I have, like he can fill every gap within me until I can’t breathe without tasting his essence. He’s in me, in my heart, my soul, and I don’t want to ever lose that. I don’t want to ever lose him.

“Yes,” I cry. The word tumbles out once more before he claims my lips with his own.

6

CASSANDRA

To give this relationship a chance, I have to close out my old life. The first thing I need to do is contact my job so they don’t think I’ve abandoned my position. When I explain this to Raven, he asks if I like working there.

“No, not really,” I admit. “But I’m not quite ready to quit yet either.” I have a strong need to depend solely on myself. Getting hired was hard enough, and if I ever have to find another job, it would be just—if not more—difficult.

That hyper-independence is because of what I experienced in my childhood, and it’s unhealthy. Until that fear subsides a little, though, I need to have some sort of fallback plan.

Raven nods in understanding. He calls Daniella—a woman he says we can trust—and within five minutes of explaining what we need, she sends over a doctor’s note excusing me from work for three months.

I’m surprised but grateful for her help. I power on my phone to send it to my boss and find a flood of aggressive, abusive texts and voicemails from Chelsea, Amy, and Heather. They’ve filled my inbox to the brim with malice, saying I abandoned them at the bar.

They go on to tell me I deserve to be lying somewhere dead in a ditch, call me a bitch, an asshole, and every other name in the book. Not once do they even ask what happened to me—or why I disappeared.

Hurt and anger well up inside me until I cry from it all. Raven holds me close, caressing my back, being there for me in every way he can.

Once I’ve calmed down, he helps me craft a final message to the three of them. He encourages me to explain everything and hold nothing back. He believes that part of my misery is because I’ve never spoken up about my mistreatment. So I do.

I tell them how they ignored and used me last night, how they’ve hurt me for years, and that it all ends now. Then I wish them a nice life and block their numbers. And while I’m proud of myself for finally voicing my feelings, it’ll take time to truly release the whole situation, especially the hurt, from my mind.

I email the doctor’s note to my boss, not bothering to wait for a reply before shutting my phone off again.

Raven, despite all of his murderous glances toward the device, gives me a hug. “I know that was difficult for you, but you did what needed to be done,” he says. “You showed so much courage, and I’m honored to be by your side, my little star.”

His faith and support mean everything to me, and it’s exactly what I need. But this is only the beginning. I need to work on myself. To be honest about the person I am and be willing to change the things that I don’t like. I don’t deserve Raven, but if I’m not willing to work on myself, I never will. I have to try and let go, to show the same courage Raven believes I have, that he inspires within me.

Because I do want this. I want him.

Raven spends the rest of the day trying to make me feel better, and the next day, and the next. And soon, we start to build a routine together.

My morning starts when I wake up naked and snuggled in Raven’s arms. After we finally leave our bed, we take a shower. On wash day, Raven helps me detangle sections of my hair and apply product. He’s even learned how to twist it just the way I like. Then he asks me if there’s anything I would like to do that day.

Normally, I don’t have anything in mind. I’m still not used to being able to have this freedom, to sleep and wake up when I want to, without having to think about work or meal plans.

I don’t have to budget. Anything I want Raven gets me. In fact, I have to be careful whenever I do show interest in something, because he doesn’t care what the price is. I mentioned once how nice his computer was, and he had a new one delivered to me within an hour.

He’s observant with meals as well. I’m not a picky eater. There were times when I was younger that I was lucky to even get anything to eat at all. But every day, Raven asks what I want to eat.

At first, I tried to tell him anything was fine, but he would grimace and walk me around the kitchen, making me pick between different breads, cheeses, condiments, and proteins. Now, Raven keeps the kitchen stocked with my go-tos—bagels, brownies, fruits, cheeses, cold cuts, vegetables, my favorite snacks, and expensive chocolate that tastes divine.

After breakfast, Raven takes me on a tour of his castle. There are multiple floors, towers, and even a giant library, which he’s gifted to me.

One day, he brings me to a large room full of windows, marble floors, and columns. Raven wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me flush against him, saying, “This used to be a ballroom. Perhaps, one day, when you get friends who are actually worthy of your time, we could throw a party for you here.”

For a moment, I’m speechless. I open my mouth to tell Raven it’s too much, that he doesn’t have to do this for me, but he scratches the back of his neck and starts to blush. I can’t say the words when he’s like this, nervous that I’ll say no. So I swallow hard, push the words back, and try for him.

He collects himself, then stares straight into my eyes.

“It would be for you,” he whispers. “Completely for you. You’d have whatever you want. Whatever food you’d like, whatever music. We could even hire that band you enjoy. But it would all be for you. Everyone here would honor you like the queen you are. Everyone would see you. You wouldn’t have to hide away. No one would make you uncomfortable, I promise you.”

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