My Brutal Beast by Melissa Cummins EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Melissa Cummins
- Language: English
- Genre: Fairy Tales
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
CASSANDRA
My head pounds from exhaustion. I’ve been overworking myself, aiming
for a promotion. I believed the money would make a difference in my
life and I’d finally feel like I made something of myself, something more
than a convict’s daughter. I have to pour every inch of myself into this. So
when Chelsea’s name flashes across my screen, I let it go to voicemail. She
was a huge party girl in college, and wherever she is, there’s bound to be
liquor.
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But then Heather and Amy both call my cell. They take turns blowing
up my phone until, with a sigh, I answer. One four-way call filled with
endless pleading and a guilt trip over how I “never come out with them
anymore,” am “wasting my life working for a promotion I’ll never get,” and
am “acting like the worst friend ever,” and I agree to go out with them for
dinner and drinks.
I don’t tell them how much their words hurt me. That friends I’ve had
for three-and-a-half years can’t believe in me or understand how important
this promotion is to me is shocking. But I ignore that hurt because maybe
they are right. Maybe I haven’t been available enough or checked in as
often as I should have. Maybe I have been, without realizing it, a bad
friend.
When I get home, I take a deep breath and promise myself I’ll only be
out for two or three hours. Long enough to catch up. I slip into a short pink
dress that does a good job hiding just how large my stomach really is. Then
I put on a pair of dark brown wedges that almost match the color of my skin
and make me a couple of inches taller.
When I arrive at Wesley’s and see Chelsea, Heather, and Amy, with
their high-pitched squeals and easy laughs, I should be happy to see them,
but I’m not. Something is wrong. I can feel it in my gut, like a sickness I
don’t know how to cure. And no matter how much I try to tell myself that
it’s me, not them, it won’t go away.
So I plaster on a fake smile. I eat and laugh with them as if nothing is
wrong, because if I’m being honest, I’ve been faking it for so long that it
feels more natural to me than the truth.
The bill comes, and for the first time tonight, I smile genuinely. I’m
ready to go.
And then it happens.
Chelsea leans forward, her blue eyes so intense she reminds me of a
snake ready to strike.
“You’re not getting off that easy,” she says with a cold grin. The
statement is meant to sound like a joke, but I can hear the threat underneath
it as clear as day.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I know that look. You’re planning on skipping out on us.” Chelsea
wags one perfectly manicured finger at me.
I force my spine to relax. Chelsea is very much the leader of our group,
and I understand that. We all have trauma and our own ways of working
through it. Hers is ordering around everyone she can, drinking, and going
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