The Beast And Me Read online

  I really didn’t know if they would try to suffocate me or not. At least at the beginning I couldn’t tell. But it moved its hand down, slowly, barely grazing my skin, down to my breasts, cupping them, gently. Waiting, waiting for me to calm down, I think.

  From the sounds, and its movements, how could this thing be human, and still have hands? Especially with such gentle hands. How could it be able to drive me insane when they sneaked beneath my clothes, touching my skin so caressingly? No, that was panic, nothing else. I was scared and nothing else.

  Yesterday, it didn’t dare do that, but today... And I keep telling myself that I did hold perfectly still, keeping my breath flat, because I was terrified of the punishment which would await me if I broke my promise to behave.

  Still, a part of me... a part of me wanted to feel its fingers on my skin. Despite those claws... These were fingers, not paws, this was... maybe I fled too far into my imagination. I surely did. Since I pretended it to be something else I was able to keep calm, but I... did I enjoy it? I don’t know. The way it touched me... it made it so easy to pretend that this was something else.

  I know this is insane. God, I know this is insane. I could hear how its breathing changed as it changed mine. I can’t believe that it’s an animal. I swear it’s human. And, maybe it is too afraid to close in on me. Maybe that’s a good thing. It is a good thing.

  Day 13

  I have to admit that I am curious what will happen today. Even though I have no idea what they expect me to do, or rather if they expect me continuing to stand still and let this happen.

  Is it wrong that I still don’t feel disgusted? Or molested by this? A side of me knows that I should, maybe I am. Maybe I am just grateful that this is all this is about. Maybe I am still hoping that somewhere out there they are looking out for me and I can endure and wait, stay safe and whole like this. It could be worse, right? There are so many stories, so many movies about what happens to young girls. Sadly, Liam Neeson is not my father and this isn’t “Taken”, but if that’s what it takes to keep me fed and alive I can live with it. It could be worse. Hopefully it doesn’t get worse.

  Am I excited? Or why am I writing now between breakfast and workout?

  I tried to do my workout, but I couldn’t concentrate. Starting to think about what this could turn into was a very, very bad idea. Why do I like watching Horror movies and Thrillers? That’s the payback for not listening to my mom. Still, time flew by and I cannot really tell how much of my training I actually did get done.

  It doesn’t matter now.

  I have finished my Lunch and now I will have to wait. And waiting is the worst. God, I feel so insane for looking forward to get in that cage again.

  It didn’t happen today. I don’t have a watch or anything to count time with but they took me to the gym again and I just... got on my trainer and rode.

  So, it’s not happening today.

  Is it punishment? For him? Or for me? I wrote him... Since I didn’t do anything wrong – because they didn’t tell me I did – it must be it – I mean him – the beast, maybe it did something wrong and that’s why I got a break? Or are they testing its reaction? Maybe mine?

  They just asked me if I wanted anything, so I asked for books. Though I didn’t expect them to be that fast they brought me two along with my Dinner: “Pride and Prejudice” and “Sense and Sensibility”. Is this irony? Or do they want to tell me something?

  My Dinner is – as always – some fruit and veggies and yogurt. Needless to say, that I don’t get a very sharp knife, but at least I get one. Seriously, I have seen those countless corridors. How am I supposed to escape from here? Is there any chance anyway? No.

  Day 14

  Two weeks. I wonder if anyone misses me yet. I mean, I usually call my Mom. Isn’t she worried? Better not think about it, or any of it. So it’s time to read one of the books. Of course they are mine. All my stuff was my stuff before they got me. Of course.

  They didn’t take me to the gym for the second time today. So I guess that... well they are taking me now.

  Day 21

  It has been a week. That makes it day 21; a full week. There is no way that I could tell; I have to trust what the doctor has told me. I’m at their medical department. She told me – the doctor – that they held me in a coma until now, for seven days, and I doubt that she would lie about it. Yet somehow I have these weird memories and I cannot tell if they are just dreams or I was actually awake in between. These faces I remember, I haven’t seen them before. Theories say that you only dream of faces you have seen, even if you just have passed them on the street, but I am quite good at faces. I don’t know.

  The doctor also told me that I will have to stay here for another seven days until I’m satisfactorily healed and they can remove my stitches. She told me not to move much and as she left, I found my diary and pen lying on the movable table next to the bed. Even though it couldn’t have been standing any closer... lifting my arm hurts, I feel like... well, I feel exactly like I should feel after what happened a week ago.

  They took away the bars again, seven days ago. They bound me to the wall again. And I don’t know why but I hadn’t expected that since I had thought they were punishing him. It... Him... I really don’t know. I don’t know what to think, or expect now. I thought that...

  Somehow I thought we would be back to square one. The chains were so tight that time; I could barely move my head, or anything. Yet the only way I could possibly stand was leaning forward, because the position of my handcuffs was too low, at my chest’s height, so that my palms were touching the wall and like that it did hurt my arms.

  And that was what distracted me. I mean, he didn’t hurt me the last time, so why should I concentrate on him instead of trying to stand more comfortably? Maybe that was my mistake. Maybe it really was my fault. That’s what I heard in one of my dreams. It was my reaction that triggered it and not that it had been out of control.

  It was so stealthy again that I only realized where he was when I felt his breath again, heavily exhaled. And I tensed. It was just instinct. Flexing my muscles was what made my chains clink, but I didn’t think any of it, because I calmed myself down again.

  It didn’t touch me, was just standing there behind me, breathing down my neck and back, creating goose bumps. It almost seemed like... as if he wanted to say something and I tried to turn my head. He brushed my hair behind my shoulder and I could sense how he plucked at it again, gently twirling it between his fingers. No one can tell me that there are no fingers.

  I knew he would touch me again and I wanted him to; simply because it had felt so good to have contact at least with someone and... Can anyone blame me?

  His hand at my neck made me relax this time and I swear that they were normal: no claws. Yes, I could not see them, but there was no soft grazing on my skin. I do remember that.

  Do I remember right?

  Or is this just another dream?

  There were no claws; at first. Still, when he slid his hands beneath my shirt and onto my stomach, these hands were missing their claws. These were hands, and arms; normal arms not hairy ones that I had expected. He wrapped them around me and moved closer.

  I could feel his chest against my back. He seemed so human. His face against my neck didn’t feel different. I didn’t understand... I still don’t. Yet, my head started spinning and there was no way I could stop it, my thoughts ran off, broke free, asked questions to answer them in so many possible ways: What was all of this about? Was this even the same creature? What will happen next? What do they need me for? Why am I so calm? Don’t I know what could happen to me? I pressed my eyes shut and tensed.

  And that’s when I felt how he started trembling, not shivering, like something was happening to him. Can he sense what I am thinking? I remember asking myself. And I felt it, on my skin, could sense how his claws grew. His fingernails turned into claws. They pressed into my skin, piercing it and it freaked me out. My whole body tensed into paralysis.
I was frozen. I could... feel on my neck how his face... changed. I swear it.

  They didn’t do anything! They were just... monitoring this. But they did nothing to stop him, or even distract him. Even though he growled and his grip tightened around me. There was no way that they couldn’t anticipate what would happen. It is their creature. They should have known. That’s why I know that they didn’t care what would happen to me. They didn’t care. Why save me?

  Day 22

  I needed to stop writing. I just... needed a break. My stitches were hurting, I was breathing so heavily. This is so hard to get my head around. Maybe I was stupid to believe that I was worth something around here until now. I guess I still won’t be. The only reason they have stitched me back together is to put me back in the cage and see what happens. That’s all what this is about: see what happens when we put a girl in the beast’s cage. They wouldn’t have saved me if they do not want this to continue, would they?

  So when my pulse went up and I was in pain again, the doctor came back and gave me some meds to sleep. And I honestly didn’t want to pick up the diary again. I didn’t want to remember. But I do. I dream about it and it scares me out of my sleep. So, what am I supposed to do? I cannot run away from that day or from the day they put me back. It’s not hard to recall it. I wish I wouldn’t remember it so perfectly.

  You don’t feel it when you cut yourself and the pain surprises you. Paper cuts are the worst. Being mauled is even worse. This feeling when your skin gets ruptured, and claws tearing through your flesh, it’s like that paper has been replaced with a rusty old nail.

  They didn’t do anything to stop it. They were deaf to my screams and I didn’t recognize my own voice, I still don’t. Now, as I look at my injuries, when they exchange the bandages, they don’t even look that deep, but the pain, the memory, went deeper. I never felt anything like that before. And I don’t want to feel anything like that ever again.

  They would watch it kill me. I know that. I knew it when I cried out in pain and nothing happened. And it continued to hurt me, trembling, snarling. I have no idea how I could notice that with blood streaming out of me. No one made it stop, even my screams didn’t. I don’t know how, but then... I think I started whispering, speaking to him. I mean, I could barely bring out words, but I tried. I fought so hard to not scream and turn this into sounds that would help me. So, I hissed, turned it into a hush – as insane as it was – and it... he... responded to it. Maybe... the tremor he went through, this transformation, or whatever, was over and that was the true reason, but then I believe it was me. So, I continued.

  “It’s okay”, I told him – even though it damn sure wasn’t. “Relax. Breathe.” I guess I told him a hundred times until he stopped, pushing out words instead of whines.

  Out of nowhere he let go of me. I don’t remember how long it took until I could hear it stumble away from me as I passed out.

  Still, I am not sure if what I recall after that were just hallucinations of a drugged mind or if I hadn’t been in a coma at all. It’s all just a blur. It could have been weeks.

  After the pain I went through I would have imagined that my recovery would take much longer than two weeks, but the doctor says the stitches will be gone in six days.

  The cuts are stapled, not stitched actually. Strange.

  I’m not sure, but somehow it feels less painful when I move, maybe they just gave me a bigger dose of painkillers.

  I cannot feel grateful for being saved, not even towards the doctor, even though she is really nice; seemingly. After all, I am still their prisoner and somehow that word doesn’t seem to fit. I got my first visitor today. But you can’t call her that. She has been rather just someone to check on me. I guess I am just another subject, apparently valuable enough to be saved.

  At least until I am healed, I live in the brighter, whiter section of this complex. It really looks like a hospital room here. Like an intensive care unit.

  The meals are the same and I have more company than before, when I do count the doctor who checks up on me and the nurse who changed my bandages. But I don’t talk to them. They do. The usual things like “try to sit straight”, or “open your mouth”, and that my vitals are getting better, but that’s it. I doubt that they would answer my questions anyway and I am still sleeping a lot.

  Day 23

  I got my first real visitor today. I guess they were maybe visiting me while I was held in a coma, recovering, but this a real visit – well, you know what I mean. This guy even knocked. Of course he didn’t tell me his name but he was wearing a doctor’s overalls and I just knew that he was one of those people who had been there. Of course he knew my name, and naturally he didn’t feel obliged to address me as “Miss” or something; he called me Meg, and he spoke like a man who was used to giving orders that were followed without questioning, and being respected without having to prove anything. I can’t help myself but believe that I have met the one who ordered my abduction, who handpicked me for this, who is to blame.

  “I am quite pleased that you have healed so well”, he said with a smug smirk that made me feel sick,

  "Don’t expect me to thank you", was my reply which took us both off guard.

  I hadn’t realized how angry I was, still am. This wasn’t the Meg I knew, and yet this wasn’t a situation I was used to. He, however... he was simply amused and swiped off my words like dirt from his sleeve. And deep inside it made me even more furious.

  “Your... sessions have been quite a success”, he simply continued as if nothing had happened, but I have this feeling that he will keep an eye on my behavior.

  So meeting up with him - whomever or whatever he is - are ‘sessions’, like I’m some damn therapist. I chose to pout and keep silent, being obedient and yet rebellious. Probably I shouldn’t have, but I just couldn’t help it; it was the only way to let off a little bit of steam.

  “It never retreated by itself before”, obviously he felt like there was a need for explaining to me what he meant.

  However, knowing that they already had been there, with another girl, maybe, and that it seemed to not have ended well, it made me feel even sicker.

  “This is why I have assigned you a new room”, he continued, like I was an idiot and he a hero. “When the doctor dismisses you, you will have a real place to settle, which you will be allowed to furnish after your own taste in time.”

  So whenever I was able to accomplish whatever they wanted me to, I would be rewarded, like I was some sort of animal too. They really do expect me to go back into that cage, and they believe that if they are waving some belongings in front of my face I will willingly risk my life again? The irony is that if I don’t I probably will be dead anyway.

  And still there was something else circling in my head, something that surprised me even more that my anger or my snotty remark from before.

  “Have you... what have you done with him?” I asked, realizing that I had given it a gender, and this man noticed it as well.

  He cocked one brow, but didn’t answer.

  “Have you killed it?” I added and made him laugh sarcastically, which made my heart drop and gave me a cold chill, even more than his words that followed.

  “Deary, he’s more valuable than you or me”, he emphasized the last two words and I chose to hate him.

  No, I didn’t really choose it. I mean, I’m not quick in hating someone and to be honest you cannot hate someone you don’t know so: if you are reading this: I am despising you, resenting you, five minutes after meeting you. Congratulations: you have tainted me. Showing up here after three weeks and one week after your creature almost killed me to be all that cocky, this arrogant, no, this presumptuous...

  However, I know now that they probably would tolerate very much to make sure that their precious beast wouldn’t be harmed. They would allow it to kill me, to rip me into shreds and just replace me. I get it. And they would also replace him, my snotty visitor.

  “So what are these sessions for, if I
may ask?” I tried to copy his way of speaking, and he seemed to like it.

  “To socialize it and to make it... more cooperative”, I was stunned.

  Not the information itself made me speechless, because I didn’t really comprehend it at that time, but also that he answered so directly. It took me a bit of time to digest, to let this sink into my brain, to realize what he really just had told me. I already had suspected that, but hearing my theory proven true literally made it real.

  I felt dizzy.

  “S...so I’m his reward?”

  Now he was astonished, since he really had underestimated my intelligence.

  Maybe it was a mistake, but my tongue had been quicker than my mind.

  He didn’t respond.

  “You don’t need to punish it”, I heard my own voice speak from a distance as I tried to refocus my eyes on the person who was standing at my bedside, thinking that maybe this beast was already suffering from my absence. “Does he know that I am still alive?”

  For the first time since he had gotten into this room, I tried to sit up and my face distorted a bit due to the ache. It already had gotten better.

  I looked at this scientist in front of me and by the way he glanced back, I didn’t need him to speak out the fact that they hadn’t.

  “How long?” my voice was weak, even though I had wanted to sound demandingly and he laughed again: “I was unaware how much you have already recovered.”

  “He... it needs to know that he hasn’t killed me”, I exhaled despite shouting as he turned away.