“She wasn’t,” Remi squeaked as tears pooled into her eyes. Reaper hugged her to him for support. “You know. She wasn’t…”
“No babe, she wasn’t raped.” Healer confirmed, and I sighed.
“Not physically,” I murmured, looking at Reaper, who stared at me concerned.
“What do you mean,” Remi asked. Looking at Reaper, I wasn’t sure I wanted to explain what I meant to his woman. When Remi looked up at him, Reaper sighed and said, “She may not have been physically raped baby, but her mind might be another story.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Mental abuse is one of the worse forms of abuse around, Remi,” I began treading my word choice carefully. “Physical rape is an action where physical harm is intended to inflict pain. Mental rape is methodical, intent, over months, years of torment. When you’re in the midst of it, it can be easy to miss the persistent undercurrent of abusive behavior. Psychological abuse involves a person’s attempts to frighten, control, or isolate you. The abuser could be your spouse, partner, or friend. They could be your business acquaintance, parent, or a caretaker, and in Aariaani’s case, it was her Uncle. Someone she trusted and loved. Her whole life, she was raised in what she believed was a good Christian community, but it wasn’t. It was a cult. From the beginning, she was monitored, lectured, spied upon, treated like a child, conditioned to be a Godly woman. She was made to give respect, dehumanized, denied affection, trivialized because of her sex. She had no one to show her comfort, love, compassion. She was made to believe one thing when the reality was much different.”
“That’s horrible,” Remi whispered. “Why would someone do that?”
Reaper said, “Power, the thrill of control, the need to own something entirely. People who do this are mentally disturbed themselves.”
“They are monsters,” Remi said, turning to Reaper. “How can you defend them?”
“Because I am one of them.”
“Max,” Remi gasped, shaking her head. “You are nothing like Ghost described.
“Yes, I am. I want you near me at all times. I can’t let you out of my sight. I have to know where you’re at every minute of the day. Hell baby, I can’t even let you bathe without me.”
“But you don’t control me, Max. You let me do what I want.”
“Yes, I do, but there is always someone with you. Shamrock never leaves your side, ever. If I’m not with you, he is, or another brother.”
“But that doesn’t make you a monster.”
“Doesn’t it?” Reaper questioned. When Remi didn’t reply, I added, “We are all that monster, Remi. Every brother here has those tendencies, those very traits. The difference is, we love. We care. We want to be better. All of us have our own demons. Some of us will never be free of them, but we work hard to never let them control us. As for me, yes, I am like Reaper. The need to control everything in my life is there. I have to. I have to protect those who matter the most to me. Without it, I will go insane.”
“Is that why you sent Rebekah and Caroline away?”
“Yes. I couldn’t do what I needed to do if there was any chance of them getting hurt. Rebekah is my life. If something were to happen to her, I would kill everyone around me. Reaper knew that. That’s why he didn’t demand I bring them back. All the brothers here are alike in that manner. We do what we have to, to ensure those we love will never be harmed.”
“Balthazar.”
I turned to find Aariaani staring at me. Moving closer to her, I gently kissed her forehead. “Hey baby. You had me worried.”
“You are nothing like my Uncle.”
“You heard?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
“Don’t apologize Ari. Never apologize.”
Eight
Aariaani
As the days and weeks passed, my body continued to heal. A man named Healer, who I learned later was an actual doctor, tended to me regularly. He was kind yet straightforward. He didn’t mince words, preferring to tell it like it was. Balthazar was always around whenever Healer came to see me. I didn’t mind. I actually liked having him around. He made me feel safe, in a place I was unfamiliar with.
When I was allowed to have visitors, Balthazar first introduced me to a woman named Remi. She was kind and eager to help me in any way she could. She would visit me mainly in the afternoons and read to me about things I never heard about. I had so many questions but didn’t want to interrupt her because that was rude.
She talked a lot, which I thought at first would bother me, but it never did. I liked hearing her speak. She was funny and loved to laugh.
I couldn’t ever remember laughing so carefree, though it came naturally to her. I wondered who she belonged to. Was she free of the burdens of being a woman? Was she allowed to be herself, be who she wanted? She seemed free to roam. I wondered what that would be like.