Heart of a Beast

Chapter 18 | Tiberius

Instrumental Song: "Cold" by Jorge Méndez

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She pulled away after her tears subsided and a calmness fell over them. Taking his paw in both of her hands, she urged him to follow her back to her parents' house, where she curled up with him on the floor of her room.

An ache still clutched tightly to Tiberius even after holding her small body against his and she finally fell asleep.

He had overheard her conversation with her best friend. Heard her face one of her betrayers who turned her back on Crystal and contributed to her years of self-abuse and self-destructive thought processes.

He should be proud of her. Proud that she had faced one of her bullies, but the hurt still consumed him and he turned his back to her when she found him.

He wanted to be alone and stew in his own self-pity and let his own demons take hold of him.

He had fought them off long enough, always giving Crystal the support she needed and over-looking himself.

Her dismissal hit him hard.

He had tried so hard to be everything she needed.

And it wasn't enough.

Even though he didn't want to see her, didn't want to hear her confession, nor feel her fingers kneed through his fur as she cried out her brokenness—deep down, he was happy. Happy that she had come for him. Happy that she hadn't turned her back and instead chased away the demons that sought to consume him.

He was broken too. He had been betrayed by those he cared about as well. He understood her struggle and he had shared all of his with her—minus the witch who had cursed him. He had been building up to that, working through his own thoughts and feelings with his family in the process.

It was a process—he recognized that. He had thought about it during his travels alone and when he talked with Crystal about it, a weight had been lifted from his chest and he acknowledged the role he played through it all.

It wasn't that his family had turned their backs on him. He couldn't communicate the issue properly, even with the mind-link. How could they understand when he couldn't explain it? Why couldn't he write it in the dirt like he had with Rhonda?

They had relied too heavily on verbal words and telepathy, overlooking other forms of communication and that was his fault for not trying hard enough.

He shouldn't have blamed them when it was his fault for getting into this mess in the first place.

As he held her and listened to the steady beating of her heart and breaths as she slept, a rush of homesickness crashed over him and he missed his family. He wanted to call them and apologize. Confess that he'd been blaming them for not helping when he needed them, when it was he who withdrew from them and turned away from them.

She stirred as his whimpers shook him. Barely even awake, she snuggled closer to him and sighed. Brushing her fingers through his fur, tingles trailed across his flesh.

"Don't cry," she murmured. "I'm here."

He tried not to, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling her delicate violet scent, but he couldn't rid himself of the images that plagued his mind.

The way he treated his family was inexcusable. He projected his frustrations onto them when they didn't understand.

His last memories were of his mother—the strongest female he ever knew—crying because he had lost his patience with her and snarled.