Chapter Thirty-Three

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Cyrus

Crow,

I don’t know how to start this letter. If you’re reading it, that means I’m not around to tell you everything myself, and the thought of that is too devastating to comprehend. You are my dream come true. If there is anything I want you to take from all this, it’s that. I have never in my life wanted something more than I wanted you. I have never loved someone more than I love you. The most important thing in the world for me is that you get out of this place, out of this cult, because that’s exactly what The Enlightened is. A cult. I want you to have the happy, healthy life you were meant to have, my sweet boy. If that happens, everything I go through will be worth it.

When I got this journal, I left the first few pages blank for a reason. I wanted to tell the story about The Enlightened, about Chosen and all my experiences, but I also wanted to set aside something special for you. It’s impossible to tell you everything, to make you understand, but I have to try.

You know nothing about my life before Chosen, in part because at first, I didn’t think it mattered. My past, before Chosen told me about my purpose, my destiny, seemed insignificant. For years I believed everything he said, believed I was doing the right thing, that this was my path, and in some ways, I guess it was, because it brought me you. By the time I started to doubt him, doubt his ways, it was too late. I couldn’t leave without losing you. That wasn’t an option for me. I was scared to try, didn’t believe in myself, didn’t think I could make it work to save us both, and if you’re reading this, I was right.

I grew up with very wealthy parents and no other family. They hadn’t planned on having me, and the truth is, they didn’t want me. Nothing I ever did was right. They were constantly telling me how much of a disappointment I was, leaving me to be raised by nannies while they went on trying to conquer the world.

When my parents died, they left me everything, but money was all I had. No self-confidence, no self-esteem, had never known what it was like to be loved, and I wanted that, so very badly. I always told myself I was going to have kids and be the best mother in the world. My child was never going to know what it felt like to be unloved, and it looks like I failed in that. I met a man who made me believe it was the right thing to do to withhold affection from you because it should be reserved for him. I hate myself for that, for the ways I let him twist my brain. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

It was only a few months after my parents passed away that I met Chosen. I was nineteen, naive to the world, lonely. I didn’t have many friends. He was handsome and charismatic. All the women wanted to be with him, and all the men wanted to be him. He just had that electric kind of personality. When he spoke, people listened, they believed, they wanted to be a part of whatever he was.

I was no different in that respect, except for some reason I couldn’t understand, Chosen wanted me, picked me, made me feel loved for the first time. I had never known anything like that before.

I see now that he picked me because he knew he could manipulate me, that I was so needy for love, he could take advantage of that, and I also had the funds to help him accomplish his goals.

He got into my head, made me believe all the things he preached, that we were doing important work for God and would save humanity. We would be the ones who survived because we were Enlightened. We were what God wanted.

I can’t stress that enough. I thought we were doing the right thing, but we weren’t.

As our numbers grew, we needed more space. There was too much sin in the outside world. It would cloud our Enlightenment. So we moved to the mountain.

When I got pregnant with you, I was the happiest I had ever been. My dream was coming true, and I would spend my life making sure you knew you were the most loved little boy in the world…and making sure you were Enlightened.

That wasn’t what happened. Chosen would get jealous of you, jealous if I spent too much time with you. He would announce that God had spoken to him, and then new rules would be in place. You didn’t sleep with us anymore. Other women had to help take care of you. I was there to serve him.

I’m not proud of the fact that I believed him, that I went along with it. I thought he was right, and by the time I didn’t, my self-esteem was so low, I didn’t think I could do anything about it. I didn’t believe I could escape, and if I did, that I would only be hurting you.

I would sneak away to spend time with you, though, and then I would get punished for putting you above the Lord and Chosen.

Years went by, and there were more rules, more punishments, more ways to keep us apart. He started sleeping with other women, but I didn’t care. I got depressed because I missed my son, my Crow, and that just made him even more disappointed in me. I was broken. I wasn’t worthy of him. I wasn’t worthy of you. He hammered that into my head over and over until I believed him.

The older you got, the more you idolized him. I know how easy it is to let him into your head, and you were just a child. I feared you were going to hate me if I took you away, but eventually, I realized that getting you out was what mattered most.

You deserved better than the life we were giving you.

That’s when I started my plan of escape, but I think I knew even then that it was too late for me. But I swear to you, Crow, it’s not too late for you! It is never too late for you.

I’ve been working with an attorney who is going to help me escape. Over the years, Chosen had gained quite the nest egg himself, people giving him their savings so they could become Enlightened. I have to find a way for us to disappear, or he’ll never stop trying to find you.

My only hope is a better life for you. I want you to experience the outside world. I don’t want you to be hurt, to have your mind twisted in that way he can do. I want you to find love and friends. Those are my greatest desires for you, Crow. Even if you stay here, even if you stay on this mountain that you love, you can have a life, a real life, free of Chosen and his twisted form of reality.

I’m so sorry for not being a better mom to you, but I can’t be sorry I met Chosen. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have you. I’m sorry I didn’t save you sooner.

I love you. I hope you know that. You will always be the greatest joy of my life.

Fly free, sweet boy.

Fly free, Crow.

With love,

Your mom, Annalise

Tears poured down my face, cries caught in my throat. I sucked in breath but struggled to get any in my lungs around the knot lodged in my throat.

My heart broke for her, for this woman who’d been so beat down by life, so hurt, much like me, and like my own mother. While mine had turned to drugs, Annalise had turned to Chosen, and both those things had killed them, but never ever killed how much they loved us.

I cried for young Crow, who’d been denied his mother’s affection. Who hadn’t known what it was like to be held by her, to have her kiss away his tears, to have her paint a Christmas tree on the wall because she knew it would make him happy.

I was lucky. I had those memories of my mom. I would always be able to carry them with me.

When my tears finally slowed, as much as it hurt, as much as it devastated me, I opened the book and read more—the things she’d been through, the evidence she was gathering on Chosen to try to get him thrown into prison, to set everyone free.

And through it all, her love for her son shined brightly.

I read Crow’s additions, his regrets. How he hated himself for not saving her, for believing in Chosen, for not making sure she knew how much he loved her.

I read about Hillary and the pain and punishment. I read about the psychological abuse, the prayers, the worship, and all the ways Chosen had made them show their devotion to him—eating things that would make them temporarily sick, sharing their wives, watching him fuck them and him watching Crow with Hillary.

Crow, who’d been through more pain, more heartache than anyone should ever have to endure, yet he loved with a passion unmatched.

I flipped the page, expecting more stories about Crow’s life before, about his mom, but that wasn’t what I saw.

There was a man in the hardware store today. He watched me, but not the same as the others do, not like I’m someone he will cross the street to avoid, or someone who deserves for women to clutch their purses when they see me.

He doesn’t look at me like I’m wrong…but like for some reason, he just can’t look away.

He brought me food, the man, Cyrus. Billy cornered me at the grocery store. I lost it, felt disconnected, like I wasn’t real. It was like it used to be in foster care. My mind turned off, and I just reacted, but then I heard him…Cyrus. And somehow he pulled me out of it. I left my food in the cart, and he brought it to me. I stalked him, followed him as he tried to get to me, making sure he stayed safe. But that was only part of it. I enjoyed following him, seeing him hear a noise and turn around but not see me. I don’t figure that’s normal, but that’s me. I’m at home on my mountain, keeping it safe.

But I didn’t need to be safe from him.

He should be kept safe from me.

I wanted to fuck him. Wanted to take him, but then he got hurt, and all I wanted was to make sure he was okay. To protect him. To take care of him.

It was…unnerving.

I brought him to my home. Watched him. Didn’t take my eyes off him as he slept.

Haven’t stopped thinking about him since.

The entries about me were short, bits and pieces of his feelings, his confusion, but his want for me… Even from the first time he saw me, Crow felt the same connection to me that I felt to him.

I fucked him against the door, took him hard like I was an animal. He should stay away from me.

I want him to stay.

I watch him sleep, want to touch him, have to bite down on my hand not to. He is…breathtaking.

I don’t want to let him go. Ever.

I can’t stop painting him.

I love him, I love him, I love him.

I flipped the page. There was nothing left, and all I could think was how much I needed Crow.

I scrambled out of bed, an invisible pull from my chest tugging me toward him. I hurried from the room, naked, with the dried cum still on me. I wore it proudly because for me, it was another way to show I was Crow’s.

He sat on the couch, in the spot I’d taken as mine. Deep inside, I knew why. It made him feel close to me. Crow likely sat there all this time, breathing in the scent of me on the fabric so he wasn’t alone.

His back was stiff, his head tilting up when I approached. Pain was etched in every line of his face, every tense muscle, and in the way his lips turned down in a frown.

“I wasn’t fair to her. I didn’t love her the way she deserved. I—”

“No. None of that was your fault. You were a child. She loved you, and it wasn’t your fault,” I reiterated, then climbed onto his lap.

Crow’s whole body melted into me, his arms fixed around me like the thought of letting go was too scary for him to contemplate.

I had always cried easily. Kids at school would tease me about it. There’s this strange concept that men don’t cry. That we don’t show emotion and that having emotions makes us weak.

I believed the opposite, that it made us strong, and when I let go and gave in to the tears, Crow was right there with me, crying for the boy he’d been and all he’d lost, but hopeful too, I thought, in our future together.