Page 3 of My Brutal Beast

I don’t know how long I’ve been scrolling through Google or how many articles I’ve read, but at least I feel a little more understood and not as alone.

I’ve learned that setting boundaries, even by just saying the word “no,” can be a good first step in reclaiming my sense of self. I can’t remember the last time I said the word “no” and stuck to it. In fact, it’s almost impossible for me to do. It feels as if it’s a right everyone else around me has, but one I was never born with.

The articles also say it can feel that way if you were often taken advantage of by a narcissist. And after a quick search of the word “narcissist,” I can confirm that to be true.

Even with my low self-esteem, I know I don’t deserve the things that happened to me when I was a child. My parents abused and neglected me, and I’ve taken enough psychology classes to know this is where all my problems stem from.

I’ve never gone to therapy. It was shoved into my head that I’m forbidden to talk about what happened inside of our household. Instead, I must be impeccable—well-mannered, well-dressed, never wear my natural hair, be skinny—and when I can’t do that, at least act like I’m trying to lose the weight. As a kid, I had to be like all the other kids, no—I had to be better than all the other kids. I couldn’t be a normal black girl who played outside until my sneakers were dirty. I had to be prim and proper—a princess, the belle of every ball—and represent my family to the utmost level of perfection.

But that mentality is the reason I work so hard today. And if I can see how horribly toxic it is to my psyche, then maybe it’s also time to open up and share that I’m struggling.

But I can’t just leave and go to a therapy appointment at 2 o’clock in the morning. Instead, I end up on Reddit, lured in by one post in the AmITheAsshole community, and decide the anonymity will be a good way for me to share my own story. The minute I hit post, I expect the worst, but instead I receive dozens of comments that are not only overwhelmingly positive, but from people who can relate to what I’m going through.

I’ve never received that type of support from anyone. It has me pressing on the corners of my eyes to keep myself from crying.

The stool beside me squeaks loudly, rousing me from my thoughts. A handsome man with brown hair, dark brown eyes, and brown skin sits beside me. He gives me a smile of perfectly white teeth, and I can feel the charm radiating off him.

I give him a small nod and polite smile in return but focus on my drink, hoping he’ll take the hint that I want to be left alone. He doesn’t.

“Hi, I’m Maxton,” he says, angling toward me. “Mind if I join you?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m really not in the mood tonight,” I reply, not able to keep the sadness from my voice.

“I noticed. That’s why I came over here.” At the raise of my eyebrow, he holds up his hands, and his easy smile returns to his lips. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m the designated driver for my friend tonight, and over the last thirty minutes I’ve been here, you caught my eye. You are an incredibly beautiful woman. At first, I thought you were with someone, but you’ve been by yourself the entire time. You have been looking at that group of girls over there every so often, so I thought we might be in the same boat, watching our friends have fun while we’re bored out of our minds.”

I clasp my hands around my drink and nod. “We are in the same boat as far as that’s concerned, but I really won’t be great company tonight. I’m pretty down about my life and I doubt you’d want to hear about that.”

Maxton leans forward, setting his arm on the counter in front of me. “Try me.”

I tilt my head. He’s a complete stranger, and while I doubt that his intentions are innocent and he only came over here to “talk,” it would help the time go by faster until Chelsea, Heather, and Amy are ready to leave. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to share just a bit about what’s going on. The worst-case scenario is he’ll get so bored with the conversation he’ll leave.

“Alright.” I nod over my left shoulder. “I’ve known those girls over there for almost four years, and tonight I finally realized we’re not really friends. They call me when they need to use me for something, not because they care, and I’ve had enough. I’m also killing myself over a job I don’t want and I’m pretty dissatisfied with my life in general.”

Maxton lets out a low whistle. “Wow.”

“Mmhmm, pretty depressing, huh?” I say as I wipe at the water droplets on my glass, trying to distract myself from the heaviness settling into my shoulders.

“No,” Maxton says. “I think you’re brave for realizing you need to make some changes in your life. Life is meant to be fun and easy, not a constant struggle. It’s way too short for that, and you deserve better.”

I turn to him with a small smile, “Thank—”

“Maxton, my buddy, introduce me to your hot-ass friend!” a masculine voice says, and it’s the only warning I get before a pale arm drapes across my shoulders.

“Hey! Get off!” I push the man’s hand from my shoulder, but he puts it back, sliding it dangerously close to the side of my breast.

“Aww, now, honey, don’t play hard to get,” he slurs. His sandy blond scruff tickles my skin as he whispers, “It makes me excited.”

My adrenaline spikes and I turn to defend myself from this idiotic man, but I never get the chance.

Maxton grabs the stranger’s wrist and shoves his arm away from me. “Palmer, she told you to get off. Stop it!”

“Dude, what the fuck is your problem, huh?” Palmer buffs out his chest and moves to stand toe-to-toe with Maxton. “You’re always on my fucking case and acting like you’re better than me.”

Maxton raises his hands. “Palmer, calm down. Let’s just go.”

“No, fuck you!” Palmer punches Maxton so hard he topples into me. My side slams against the edge of the bar, and I grab onto it to keep from falling off the stool.

Maxton recovers, but not before the bartender hits his fists against the counter. “Hey! Get the hell out of my bar!”

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