The Beast And Me

by D. S. Wrights

  He’s huge, you know. At least 6"4, built like... I can’t really compare... a gladiator?

  Like I said, he’s not just a mountain of muscles. He in fact rather looks like they have turned a cougar or a lion into a human, or combined the DNA. I can’t describe it any better.

  His face... it doesn’t really look human, and then again, still human... these expressions. The cheekbones warped into something feline, his nose flatter than a human more like a cat, but his mouth... His mouth definitely is human, even though you can see his fangs beneath his skin. His hands are clawed, like his feet, but he has no tail.

  I have to say that this was a relief.

  As he realized that I wasn’t freaking out, but looking at him, that glare faded into confusion, and worry and something else.

  No, he wasn’t naked. He was wearing pants, which even though wide, still perfectly showed his muscles. These legs definitely were human ones, until I looked at his feet. He was on his toes, more like a cat. It looked like it was natural for him, to stand like that. And he has hair like a human, no fur, brown, light brown hair, and three inches long maybe?

  Yes, I stared at him, sucked in that image in front of me, and burned it into my mind just in case this was the last time I would see him. And as he watched me getting up slowly, not losing eye contact, he retreated just as quickly. I think he had wanted to scare me away.

  “Wait!” I heard myself shout and again I turned my head to the window, asking them to remove the gate, but instead Peter and Gray came in and brought me back.

  I looked at Peter, but he avoided any eye contact, doing his job.

  I need to get back to him, the Beast. I need to know his name. I need... him.

  Day 43

  Is it strange that I feel like he’s the one actually keeping me sane? That he’s somewhat my task? Giving me meaning, a purpose, something to focus on? I know.

  It’s been 43 days since I was brought here and I have no idea what’s going on in the outside world and instead of trying to get out, I seem to have arranged myself with being here and... no, I’m not just his... toy.

  And what am I supposed to do to get out of here? There is not a chance to break out and... it’s not a lame excuse for not even trying. They would kill me and we would... would he get over losing me?

  I hadn’t expected White to visit me after what happened. I just wanted to write a little before workout, but there he was, knocking, entering as if it was the most normal thing to do. Not even waiting for me to say “come in”.

  Now I know what Peter meant by ‘being polite’. I caught a glimpse of him looking at me when White entered. But I couldn’t tell what he thought.

  Not that it’s important, is it?

  White however, had his smug look again and I needed to remind myself that it was more important to act nice around this man.

  43 days, I can’t believe that it’s already been 43 days.

  “You are full of surprises. I must admit that I underestimated you”, he explained, and sat down at my table.

  Now there’s another reason for me not to eat at that table. I am so disgusted by White, I wish he would make me come to his office instead of invading my room, the only thing I have for myself. I rather write on my bed, like I do now. Of course I felt obliged to sit down there as well, since there are two chairs and I get that’s the only reason I have two, and he approved with a nod.

  “So that’s why you chose me?” I asked before I could stop myself, but much to my surprise White wasn’t taken aback. I think he liked that for me it was a fact being underestimated all the time. He saw potential in me. I could tell by his look. And maybe he knew that all of this was a first for me. This glance... like he actually was proud and still it made me want to puke into his lap.

  “I think I can at least explain this to you, since you have proved yourself to us yesterday”, he placed his hand on mine and it felt like he shot ice through my veins, but I managed not to flinch.

  I had to wait for him to speak; somehow I already knew that he loved to hear himself talk: “We haven’t brought you to Ten because it misbehaved. Deliberately, as we figured out.”

  Ten, like number Ten. There are or were at least nine similar to him, maybe more.

  I had trouble listening to White, because all I really could think about was that he – my Beast – didn’t even have a real name, but only a number, subject as he was.

  “It seems like it didn’t want you to come over, and yesterday with trying to scare you off, that theory obviously is proven.”

  I kept silent, trying to listen, and his face told me that he liked that. He even patted my hand and somehow I tried to act like a little schoolgirl looking up to the teacher, she admired – just a little, just to see if it changed anything.

  “So it really, really likes you”, he added softly now and slightly squeezing my hand.

  It did work too easily and I don’t like it, it gives me the creeps, but you know: one has to try everything to... I don’t know, gain trust and gain freedom?

  “And now I tell you something I shouldn’t, but it will help you understand a little bit more”, he seriously leaned towards me and I fought not to tense up – or throw up.

  “I didn’t choose you”, he said lowly. “You were picked along others with similar background”, (remember how I said that I don’t have any friends, little family far away? Like that, so this was why). “But Ten chose you out of them.”

  Now you can tell that I was stunned by that information. He had chosen me. My Beast had picked me out of several. White hadn’t just told me that he – my Beast – had wanted me from the start, but also that he was able to choose something or someone that he was acting with some sort of reason. He was intelligent and he wanted me.

  “Trying to scare you away just tells us that Ten is really attached to you and this is a very good thing”, White patted my hand again and I... smiled.

  I have to admit that this wasn’t acting. Yet, I didn’t smile because I felt proud, or because White was proud, no. He – my Beast – had chosen me. I still can’t wrap my head around it.

  I know I should be terrified, or confused not... happy.

  “So”, he rose from the seat. “You can ask for something new. More books maybe? The iPod is the only electronic device I can give you though. No contact to the outside world, you understand that, right?”

  I nodded, the nice girl he wanted me to be. Something about the look he gave me curled up my fingernails again.

  “I know I can’t go outside.” I looked down – should he take that gesture the way he wanted to.

  Maybe he was that type man that liked to be a sugar daddy. The thought alone makes me shudder. If that was the case, I can use that for my benefit.

  “Maybe I could have some paintings for my walls? Would you... pick some for me?”

  I looked up though my eyelashes and – ugh – bingo.

  He promised me that I would get some paintings and books. Why do I have the feeling that he was too nice? Why do I feel like I will regret my acting? That it will blow back on me? But then again, Ten is more important than him. He told me that. And Ten picked me.

  I think they are punishing him again. I didn’t get to see him. Ten... how can you give someone a number? So that dehumanizing him is easier? Like with prisoners, like the Nazi’s did to the Jews. I cannot name him Ten. He has to have a name. I will give him a name.

  Day 44

  I just feel so annoyed, like I haven’t slept enough. I just came back from the gym and I’m already hungry again. It seems like I’m going to have that time of the month again. I guess that’s a good thing, not knowing if they are actually giving me something or simply take the risk.

  I’d better not think about it.

  Peter was nice to me again, but I didn’t start a conversation this time. It doesn’t feel right. Strange, I know. I just have the feeling that... I don’t know, like I would betray him, Ten. I cannot really name him that. I have to find something els
e. If I could just ask him for his name, or talk to him...

  I’m much too distracted today. I almost hurt myself while working out, but I’m fine. I almost dropped a weight on my foot. Just a shock, still Peter heard it and asked me if I was okay after they locked me in again. Meaning he waited for five minutes until Gray had gone on patrol or something. He’s really nice, but I don’t trust him. I can’t, can I? Befriending the enemy?

  If they don’t take me to him today, I will try to take a look at the vent. I just keep thinking about it, waking up in the middle of the night. I know that I can manage that. Maybe I shouldn’t have written it down here. What if White starts reading this when I’m gone? What if he already did?

  Peter looked at me all strangely when he brought me to him – my Beast – this afternoon. He walked me alone, which of course is confusing, but then again, what would try to run really help me? There’s no way to escape, right? For all I know, all I’ve figured out is that we’re subterranean. There aren’t any windows here. Not in my room, not in the corridors. The only one I know is in his cage and for White and his perverts to watch us through. I try not to think about it, now that it has come to my mind. Just pretend that it’s a display of approval or trust in me.

  It was Peter who shackled me to the wall. He didn’t say a thing doing that, he did not even look at me, and I tried to do my best and assist him, so that he could get over it quickly. He looked like he was either awkward or... I don’t know... he swallowed far too often and seemed nervous. And then he blindfolded me as well. I really don’t understand why. I thought we had put that behind us.

  Suddenly this thought crossed my mind: what if my sessions with him, my beast had ended? What if they now put me into one of the other nine remaining? My heart sped up so quickly that I was sure even Peter would be able to hear it. I reminded myself that this was cage Ten, his cage, and that Ten had picked me. He had even told me that as he said “mine”. They wouldn’t just put me into another cell, to a different beast.

  Then I realized that I hadn’t heard Peter leave or close the door behind him. Tension struck my body painfully. What was he doing? But I didn’t dare say his name. I had been too distracted by my own thoughts.

  Stupid me. Stupid, stupid me.

  Why was I thinking that he was still there? No, why would he. It wouldn’t make any sense.

  “Please”, whispering this was the only thing I could do without... without what actually?

  I need to be more careful. 44 days and I am already becoming sloppy.

  Hearing how the gate was opened, that noise of metal sliding across metal was a relief, at least for the first seconds, until my thoughts crashed down on me, drowning me in panic, making me beg silently, pray that it was no other beast but mine.

  I know how crazy that sounds. How insane. How typical Stockholm syndrome.

  I wish I could explain the difference.

  There was no sound of someone or something approaching. I just sensed that one second I had seemed to be alone and not anymore the next. This breathing close to me, my ear, making it tingle from the sound and the warmth... Even though the height seemed fitting I just... doubted. Slowly I turned my head towards him, in the direction that was away from the speaker, whispering: “Tell me it’s you”.

  My heart was a machine-gun; firing off the moment I could feel hands on my stomach, hands that appeared to just grow claws. This panic turned into something else, into fire, consuming me as they moved into my pants, pushing them down and I exhaled feverishly, because of what I heard: “It’s me”, this voice, it was deep, and I knew it was distorted as well.

  He spoke lowly, like it was difficult to form these words, these sounds that turned into words. I could hear the tone, his tone, his voice. This alone did things to me, was just as arousing as his hands that were searching to enter me.

  Now writing this down I have to ask myself if that was the reason why I was blindfolded: because I was allowed to see the beast but not the human? Because I am sure that before he touched me, before my racing heartbeat reached his senses, that there hadn’t been any claws, and that he maybe had not been a beast.

  For me there is no difference. Or is there? Would he do this differently if he managed not to turn?

  His fingers inside me didn’t feel like being clawed at all. It didn’t hurt, oh no, quite the contrary. They made me lean my head back against him, made me breathe shallowly, biting down my lip. His other hand moved up to cup my breast, and I moved to meet him. In my head we were alone. In my head, he was my boyfriend with light-brown hair and green eyes, just a corroded copper colored circle around the iris. I’ll better call it ‘mint’. I clutched my mind around this image, as I realized that it wanted to trick me, to use a face I knew instead of trying to create one I hadn’t seen. My head started pounding irregularly as I tried to force away Peter’s face.

  This terrifies me. What if...?

  Ten’s tongue at my neck made me moan, shooing away the image I didn’t want to see. He replied with something similar to a purr, and the thought that I did this to him, that he couldn’t control himself around me, just because a noise I made... as insane as it sounds... Yes, it drove me insane, flooded my mind with lust. Even though I turned my head towards him, there was no chance for my lips to reach his skin. He pushed my torso away from him and towards the wall. This excitement, while waiting for him to enter, the longer I had to wait the better it felt. Tears burned in my eyes as it happened. How could I have forgotten how good this felt? His movements were electrifying me, my skin, my bones, and my blood. I never wanted him to stop. This made me forget everything. I never want anything other than this. This is so wrong.

  It was like he was prodding deeper and deeper inside me, hitting the point that stole my breath, tensing me up and him along with me. Knowing that I was about to come, knowing that I pulled him with me... it’s just... it just feels perfect.

  I know that I don’t know him, I know he’s some strange half-human creature, a beast and I am a prisoner, because of him, and that this is abuse in so many ways. I know it’s wrong. But I can’t help it. I love it.

  I could feel how he came inside of me and how he triggered my orgasm with it. I don’t want to feel anything else any more in my life. At that moment he makes me not care for anything, for nothing but him and me. Everything else is erased. And I want to kiss him. I want to pull him close, as tight as I can. But I can’t. I couldn’t.

  He did. He wrapped his arms around me, staying with and inside me, holding me so close that I barely could breathe. I could sense that he was fully different again, changed. Still, I don’t care. I know this has to be some psycho thing. But you know what? Screw it. I placed my shackled hands on his forearms, stroking them and you cannot judge me for it. I don’t care.

  Day 45

  I slept through the night, like a stone. So... maybe tonight, I doubt that they will bring me to him. Have they ever? Two days in a row? And I really slept well, deep and dreamless. Not that I dream much. It’s always blurry and never really makes sense anyhow.

  Maybe I’ll try it today.

  However, White kept his promise. I just realized today. There were books and paintings, a lamp on a nightstand next to my bed and a double scotch tape on my table. So I can put up the pictures by myself. Apparently I don’t get any nails, but maybe I can keep the tape.

  The books, I don’t know why he brought me ‘Jane Eyre’ and ‘Wuthering Heights’, and... the Twilight series.

  Guilty. Well, okay, one needs to be distracted.

  However: I put up the pictures and I hid some of the tape in my container for female hygiene. Since... you never know, right?

  Writing all of this down really helps me keep calm. It’s not that I don’t think about my family or the friends I have lost who might still think about me.

  It’s not like I don’t keep wondering if anyone misses me on campus and what they did to cover the tracks. And I can’t stop pondering if he, my beast, Ten...

&nbs
p; I really hate that number...

  I mean, maybe he’ll get the chance to tell me his name, but until then, I have to call him something different. I don’t want to make him a number, or a subject.

  So... the tenth letter in the alphabet is J. J is good, maybe I’ll find a name for it I like, maybe that’s even the letter his name starts with? Maybe Jay is even his name? I can’t stop thinking, wondering if he has or had a family as well. If he’s artificial or if he was human once and they have changed him.

  Maybe John? Too obvious. Johnathan? Sure... Jason? Jeremy? It’s not the Vampire Diaries. Jensen... nah... Jean... that’s just French for John. There aren’t many names with J... at least not many I can think of. Maybe I should’ve come up with something different. I’ll keep it simple then: Jay. Thinking of that letter makes me grin like a love-crazed teenager. But I’m not in love, how could I be?

  I tried not to freak out. I swear. I tried to do my best, to act reluctantly as Peter and White came to take me. I kept telling myself that they wouldn’t take me to him, to Jay... I don’t dare put down the name on paper. It’s stupid. It’s my diary, right? Still. I tried to make big eyes and look up to White pretending to be his little shy girl and I made him smile. I freaking made that man smile.

  He’s tall and has ash-blond hair. I believe he’s turning gray as well. And he’s almost taller than Peter. His eyes are gray, flat gray, like he has no soul...

  I should’ve called him that and not White, but I can’t change my mind now. Not that it’s really important.

  We walked that usual way and I tried to be anxious, even though I was excited. Luckily, those two emotions expressed appear similar to others who don’t know anyone well enough to tell the difference. I didn’t dare believe that I would see Jay again.

  White told Peter to wait outside of the first room.