The Beast In Me (The Beast And Me Book 2)

by D. S. Wrights

  I still knew a few things my siblings had taught me while going through medical school and Peter apparently wanted to walk in his big brother’s footsteps somehow.

  I had always been suspicious about Dr. Clay Severin’s work and that Peter somehow was more or less involved. And I cannot really say much about the treatments that we were given, just that I was pretty sure that my unit had never been exposed to radioactivity.

  Not before, not after that.

  One day they just showed up.

  A huge staff in these typical big suits you can see in all these end-time movies. Medical officers with higher ranks telling us that we needed to be contained and treated because one of the bombs we had secured seemingly was contaminated with radioactive material.

  I knew it wasn’t, but I listened to Peter, who said that his brother wouldn’t have shown up if it hadn’t been serious. And I believed him. Now I don’t anymore.

  Truth be told, I even wonder if he had already treated us with his brother’s serum before that. What I do know, what I saw, is that he injected himself with that stuff as well, even though he had never been close to what they claimed to have contaminated us.

  “That’s when you admitted that the serum you had been injecting us with, that Peter had injected us with, wasn’t for treating a radioactive contamination, but that it was actually giving you the possibility to save me, all of us who were still alive”, I continued and White looked pleased, nodding as if to tell me to continue, and I did: “I knew you were lying.”

  “I didn’t lie, Ten”, he gave back and this name felt like a cold blade into my stomach.

  “I knew that you weren’t giving me a choice”, I responded, sensing how the metal beneath my fingers was aching, as my hands clenched around the frame of my bed.

  Reminding me to breathe, to relax, the voice in my head, telling me that, sounded so much like yours, and I clung to that sound, slowly relaxing finger for finger.

  “I knew if I didn’t say yes, you would have let my comrades die along with me. I still don’t understand why you needed my consent.”

  White’s face was almost expressionless and I knew right then and there that he wouldn’t answer. My only guess was that he believed it wouldn’t work otherwise.

  “I thought I was dead anyway”, I therefore added. “I wanted to save those who had a chance to survive. What a gesture, to offer water from a poisoned well to a man dying from thirst.”

  Admittedly, I was surprised about my own words and for him, our own personal Dr. Moreau, it was hard to contain that emotion and not have it claim his face. He never misses the chance to make you regret. You might know that already.

  “She’s fine”, he suddenly said while moving away from that small barred window he had been standing close to, but far away enough to retreat quickly if I should choose to attack him.

  The metal frame of my bed protested loudly and I think I saw the corner of his mouth lift before it was out of my sight. My heart was already pounding so loud in my head that I could barely hear anything else. It always sounds like that before I start to hear absolutely everything around me, as if my blood rushes to the ears to strengthen that sense specifically.

  So, I heard what he said like I was surfacing from a deep dive.

  “She’s still unconscious though, so, she is not asking for you, or missing you, or knowing how much time has passed.”

  “Thank you”, I heard myself answer and made him stop. “That is a relief to know.”

  I made him realize that he wasn’t tormenting me with these words, not instantly at least, and I bet that he regretted telling me, but now I’m worried even more.

  However, I was talking about Peter, wasn’t I?

  I should have told you about his connection to White when I had the chance. I feel so bad about letting him betray and disappoint you, knowing that I could have prevented it, yet I can’t think of any situation when there had been a chance and, to be honest, as you visited me that night, I just didn’t think of it.

  And after that it was too late, before that... I hadn’t found my voice.

  You should know that of all of us Peter chose this willingly. He took those injections even though he wasn’t supposed to.

  It was just his job to give them to us, to make sure that we didn’t miss any of them and stuck to our schedule. I don’t know if he really knew what their exact purpose was, what he would become treating himself with it. In the end it doesn’t make any difference.

  The irony is just that even though he seems to be the only one being in control of that Beast residing inside of him, his brother still doesn’t regard him as a success.

  At least that’s what it looks like.

  Why else would Peter torment me?

  Ever since I regained consciousness or rather self-control, whenever he was walking me to my trainings or examinations, he seemed to have it in for me, but it never... triggered the Beast in me to break out, until he started to talk about you, tease me about you and he took it so far along with his brother – and I don’t know if this was White’s idea – that it was close to impossible becoming close to my true self again.

  Had I just thought of what this whole project had been about until then, and until now: helping me regain self-control. Instead, I was jealous, fumingly jealous.

  To hear him talk about you, how you walked together, ate together, talked together.

  I couldn’t stop myself from being furious about it. There was no way to stop this hungry firestorm inside of me gnawing at my humanity. One cannot imagine how it felt as I caught his scent on you.

  I think, I never could have done that being myself until that very moment you walked in there, your heartbeat already having a wrong rhythm and... smelling totally wrong, wearing his stench on your skin. It was choking me, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything.

  I felt sick, like the acid in my stomach eating through my body from inside out.

  For me, it made so much sense, remembering everything Peter had told me before.

  Of course you would choose him, the normal one, the one in control, the one true success White was too blinded to accept.

  Peter would be able to keep you safe, he would never lose control and hurt you.

  He would actually be able to get you out of here. And probably he would be able to give his brother what he wanted without any trouble: a hybrid child.

  I wasn’t able to remind myself that obviously Peter was a failure in the eyes of his brother, because I have no idea why that is, actually. All I could think of was that you had left me, abandoned me, betrayed me, no: that I had lost you. And I lost myself.

  This time, it didn’t feel like watching my body move, this time I knew it was a part of me moving it. I knew it was my instinct, the base of mine, acting.

  It could sense it, a part of me pushing my body onward, raising my arm, grabbing the throat of the culprit, the origin of my anguish, needing to destroy it. At that moment, I was unaware that it was you.

  All I sensed was something I loved being tainted by something I had started to loathe and I just needed to stop loathing.

  I never, ever wanted to hurt you again. Yet, I was blinded by what I felt and sensed that I wasn’t able to see a difference. There I was again, hurting you, again.

  It was no thanks to me that I spared you, it was all you. It was you mouthing that you were sorry. This almost inaudible sound let my eyes focus on your face and see your torment.

  Still, I recall not being able to stand that sight, to stand that tainted smell of you, so I just pushed you away; underestimating my strength I tossed you, like some doll, away from me. But right then and there I could not regret it. This pain, this hurt, it still eats at my chest from the inside when I think about this.

  Still, White’s words keep worrying me. Because he told me that you are in a coma right now.

  And that’s just what I was in, what it feels like, when I try to remember anything about the time between Dr. Clay
Severin asking me if I wanted my comrades and myself to live, and becoming conscious while being possessed, remotely controlled, by the beast.

  What I try to say is: what worries me most is the parallel. Why do you have to be in a coma?

  Day 106

  I really wanted to try remembering things, bring my head back in order, write down all you need to know, but I can’t. It’s always been like that.

  I feel like I have ADHD.

  Every sound, every smell, every shift of air just distracts me. I’m on edge, and everything, absolutely everything makes the Beast want to break out.

  It’s angry, always angry and restless, I am angry and restless. Not knowing how you are and knowing that you are in a coma doesn’t make any difference at all. Nothing helps me being patient and calm.

  Somehow you did.

  I wish they would at least let me see a new picture or tape of you, even of you sleeping.

  You know, I still have your shirt, the one you stashed into my broken basin. There is still a tiny scent of you left on it. I know you noticed that I used it as a pillow when you visited me.

  How well I do remember this. Returning into my cell and catching your scent. I instantly knew that White had brought you here and left you alone. Because your scent was the strongest and his smell was faint.

  He never really dares to be in one room with me.

  I can only imagine how it must have felt for you, see the destruction I had created, knowing that White probably told you a specific reason. He must have heard you saying my name.

  I’m not surprised that you figured it out. It wasn’t really like they tried very hard to encode it.

  They had put me on tests, had me train and fight for over a week. Fight against my former comrades.

  For the first time I had a perception of time, because I counted the days being separated from you. Still, it became harder and harder to differ between reality and imagination. I started to believe that what I remembered was simply from the tapes and pictures I had seen, that it all had been just a fantasy, my imagination.

  Looking back, I somewhat understand White’s comment in his entry about what a progress I have made.

  When fighting was finally over, I didn’t realize it. I honestly believe I was put back in the cage to fight something or someone once more and, for a moment, I thought it was Peter. How I would have loved to tear him into pieces after... after I smelled his stench on you.

  But his smell on you hadn’t been the reason why I destroyed half of my cell. I didn’t do anything to my place, then, all I did was pacing up and down in it, I remember that...

  I did that after fighting Four... I mean Daniel... but he’s not Daniel anymore, not really. He was such a good kid. Not the brightest, but honest, loyal, a good soldier, reliable. If anyone had asked me who I would believe was White’s favorite... pet I would have put my bets on him.

  However, when I fought him, for the first time I didn’t mind and I didn’t only defend myself. I needed to let it all out. All I saw in front of me was Peter mocking me, even though I didn’t smell him, I remembered his stench on you. It just wouldn’t leave my senses.

  I had been blind, I knew...

  I still know that Peter was jealous, that he is jealous. So when Daniel attacked me, I really fought my former best friend. For the first time I really allowed the Beast to take over again.

  I just let go.

  I thought I had lost you and I couldn’t stand that feeling inside of me, this acid boiling in my insides refusing to fade away.

  The Beast does that. It consumes just everything, like a wildfire claiming a house.

  Nothing stays untouched.

  Everything turns into ashes and dust, every other emotion that is not primal and raw like a fire usually is. It all becomes victim to the fire and I turn numb. Almost nothing matters.

  Until I wake up.

  When I came to, I was covered in blood, naked, beneath the shower. All I could do was stare at my shaking hands, which were being washed clean by the water.

  It’s strange how one can confuse fresh blood with paint.

  I don’t know how long it took me to realize that these small red trails at my feet, flooding into the drain, were actually blood.

  I’ve been there so many times before. And like every time that’s when the flashbacks kick in and I see myself, I see the Beast slashing, mauling, clawing through flesh down to the bone, that’s when I pull pieces of skin and flesh from beneath my fingernails, that’s when my stomach starts turning.

  I don’t throw up anymore.

  When I returned to my cell I just fell onto my mattress and slept. All of what had happened took its toll on me then and I think that I missed Breakfast.

  It was the smell of Lunch that woke me up and I inhaled whatever it was, before any scent from the outside would ruin my appetite.

  You have no idea how much I actually have to eat, especially when the Beast has taken over.

  It was like I had known he would come and visit me. However, I hadn’t expected the task he would give me and the order.

  You know, often, before they release me to the cage adjacent to my cell, they order me to stand parallel to the small window in my door and they inject me something. I’m guessing it’s adrenaline with something else.

  It triggers the change.

  So when he told me that he expected me to carry out a judgment on another subject, I just felt sick about the thought that I probably had messed up Daniel that badly so that I had to be the executioner for whoever of us had stepped out of the line again.

  You see, Daniel is still very thorough in executing orders.

  There was nothing I could have done against that change. As long as that chemical cocktail is in my system and not burned up by the Beast there is nothing I can do to stop the change or make me change back.

  Day 107

  Can I tell you about my days? Should I even? Do you really want to know what my regular schedule is?

  You probably should. After all, you haven’t seen me for some days before and I guess that you can imagine what happens. Maybe your imagination is even worse than reality, or it isn’t. If you don’t want to know, skip this. Just know that what you got to see the day White held a gun to your head isn’t the usual.

  Most of the time it’s testing, taking samples of my blood in the different states I am in. I’m not sure what for. They take me out of my cell, into my cage or the outside area, or into the lab. Then they either watch and study my behavior or take my blood. Many times they did have to threaten me, restrain me, so that they could take some blood. For whatever reason, they try not to use narcotics. They might not want to ruin the samples.

  I am literally a guinea pig, but I managed to deny it all along these months, maybe years, because I was in this eternal rage of mine.

  That’s all who I was, what I was.

  And now, looking back, it was what fueled the Beast and kept it going, helped it having control over me. Somehow it... helped me run from the truth.

  You can imagine that they have different tests in which they try to provoke me, to evoke a reaction from me. I mean, you have been part of one experiment yourself.

  So you can tell that there were more of them. Mostly it was monitoring my instincts.

  At least, I believe so; most of my memories are still blurred. The only clear thing is you, and even that is not entirely true. You know that our first meetings... it wasn’t really me, I wasn’t really there. Just partly. It’s too hard to put it into words. I’m sure you’d be way better at this than I could ever be.

  At first it was like watching people while being underwater. All you do see are blurred shapes, and the sounds are warped, some you can’t even hear.

  Yes, it was like that in the beginning. Memories from those times came to me in my dreams and I can’t even tell what was real and what did really happen. Until...

  Somehow you slowly pulled me towards the surface; things became clearer, until you pulled m
e out. I really don’t know what exactly it was.

  I can’t say for sure.

  Maybe because you truly trusted me, even more than I trusted myself. You always seemed to be more concerned about me than about yourself. You made me feel human again, you made me human again, because you treated me like one. More than that. But that’s nothing I need to tell you.

  Although I am pretty sure that everything White has done was meant to lead up to this. It’s not that I want to give him any credit.

  It makes me feel sick to be honest.

  What he surely didn’t expect was your lack of fear towards me and I really don’t understand or comprehend how, after what I had done to you, the first time those bars were gone, you still weren’t afraid of me.

  It’s one of the things that my thoughts are still circling around and I can’t stop believing that somewhere deep inside you recognized me. It’s the only rational explanation.

  And I am sure that, once you read this and remember me, that you will agree or might even be relieved about that explanation. If not, I don’t really care. It’s not that I have spent my last months, years in a rational world anyway. It’s just... I don’t know. I simply like the idea that we have a kind of unique connection.

  * * *

  I wish I could write more to you, but it’s already late. Today, I have spent the whole day in the medical lab. Luckily without being stuck with a thousand needles again. But it was odd, because it felt like a normal check-up. Treadmill, eyesight, that kind of stuff.

  Of course I do not trust this new situation I am in. My days become stranger, different. I am meeting people I have never seen before, or I cannot remember them. And they treat me... well, almost normal. Apart from the fact that everyone calls me ‘Ten’ they actually ask me to do things.

  Is this how it was for you?

  Were you treated somewhat humane when you ‘behaved’?

  I promise you I won’t stop being cautious and skeptical. All I want is to see you again, and if a side effect is this, I won’t complain.