The Beast In Me (The Beast And Me Book 2) Page 7

  It is terrifying, up to a point that I literally feel sick, because of the things I remember having done. And yet, now that this seems to be the truth, if the Beast is really me, a primal part of myself, it means, it could mean that I am able to control that part. I could use it against White, if I try hard enough.

  I don’t know if I can.

  Day 119

  It almost feels as if our roles are switched now. You’re the one being trapped in your own body and I am the one not knowing what to do, apart from staring at you, being there, hoping that you will wake up.

  I know I cannot really compare, but that’s what it feels like, since there was only one day I had to go through without you. And then I stood there again, at this window, not being able to do anything apart from watching you.

  This time, however, I was on my own. Peter didn’t take me to see you and so he wasn’t standing next to me.

  They left me alone in that little, dark room, while the white walls of yours seemed to even enhance the light from the ceiling.

  I wonder if you can sense that I am there, even without being changed. You don’t look changed, and I am sure that I would be able to sense it, like I do with others.

  I refuse to believe that White would do that to you, knowing how I would react to it, knowing that the risk of you being not in control at all after a change would ruin all the progress he has with me, now.

  Standing there, behind that glass, reminded me so painfully of that incident when they forced me to watch you being abused in the discrete smaller part of the cage.

  I almost had been expecting to see you again, because of the night I spend without sleep.

  They had switched the lights on and off the whole time. The window of my cell had been opened and closed. People had walked on and off, making noises purposely.

  The whole day I had been on edge.

  In the morning, everything made me fume. I barely managed to eat that mash which supposedly had been my Breakfast.

  I knew then that something was going on, and that something was going to happen and the hope of getting to see you helped me compose myself quicker.

  Unfortunately, this didn’t go unnoticed. At least then, for me, it wasn’t fortunate, because White showed up, giving me one of his smug glances. He didn’t say anything, but his being there... it was something different. I knew he was up to something, I knew that he was expecting something, and yet, I had no idea what. I never have.

  Although you weren’t shouting anyone to stop now, I felt like you were fighting to wake up.

  Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

  The Beast – I – had been too confused to proceed to the iron bars of the cage, just curiously watched what was happening. Until it heard you shout ‘no’, until I heard that. It was the first time I heard you say that tiny word.

  When they pushed you against the wall it was like a wake-up-call. It was not only the Beast that moved, it was me, not being detached from my body. And when I growled, it felt as if my fury created that sound, not an alien creature.

  Being called a monster was a punch, pushing the air out of my sails, but only for a brief moment, since your return was so quick, without any hesitation, as if you didn’t even have to think about it for a nanosecond. And it took me half an eternity to realize that White had cut you off.

  The sound of the gate being removed, snapped me wide awake. I didn’t even think about trying to keep the Beast at bay when it darted towards the door that hadn’t been closed entirely yet. I wanted it to catch at least one of them, only to leave a puddle of blood, so that all the ones who even dared to think about you would shudder knowing the consequences awaiting them.

  Still, I didn’t know what I was doing; that I kept trying to tear that metal down, though my mind knew it was a futile effort. It was your voice that stopped me, just a whispered and a weak ‘please’, which was still stronger than any rage that could claim my body.

  But what whipped away all the flaming fury in my veins was your worry about me hurting myself.

  This was something and still is something I am having trouble comprehending.

  Your words made my arms sink, my fists open up, my shoulders slump slightly and I just walked back to you. Although all I seemed to do right now was breath heavily, my chest heaving, my pulse racing, my teeth still bare from the fury that had taken over. Still, I needed to crush something, to tear something apart, into shreds and pieces, to release that energy possessing my body, and yet I didn’t.

  I could sense that you were still upset and trembling, but it was not because of me.

  You were okay.

  They didn’t harm you, at least not badly. Yet, the Beast would remember their scent, and they would.

  I knew this was what calmed me down, knowing that I had been able to protect you, even though in a strange way, I still had.

  You were safe and – even more important – you still weren’t afraid of me.

  Before I knew what I was really doing, I had placed my cheek against yours. Even acting fully on instinct I was still too afraid to touch you more than that.

  Despite the last time we had met.

  The idea alone of placing my bruised and clawed hands onto your skin... it was unimaginable. And yet, I needed to move closer, just one bit, as the scent of your hair pulled me in. It felt even softer than silk against my face. And I can barely remember that fabric.

  Your words, your voice, was humming in my head, as if you were already reading my thoughts, or creating them. I can’t tell the difference. They pulled me closer, made me wrap my arms around you gently. For the first time, even though I didn’t look like it, for the first time I felt human.

  I understood every single word you said, I sensed them resonating in my pulse and bone, and they told me so much more than they were actually saying. And maybe, right then and there, I knew more than you were aware of.

  I knew you were mine.

  It was the only explanation.

  The way you acted: so differently from anyone else, and so differently to anyone else.

  Even though your words were intended to tell me something else, because you didn’t know how much I had seen, I could hear myself say what I felt.

  I knew I shouldn’t have, just when it was too late, but your reaction, how you warmed up, despite your shiver, and told White ‘no’ for ordering me to back off. It was nothing but a mere whisper, almost as if it had meant only to be heard by me.

  I can still feel that heat against my skin when I close my eyes as if it was just yesterday.

  Maybe you can tell what happened afterwards. Still, I feel that sometimes you know me better, than I do myself. It’s probably not what you will think of first because I didn’t lose it.

  No, I had never been this calm for a very, very long time. And I didn’t worry either, even though I could fathom what would happen next.

  I knew it wouldn’t take long until White would show up to talk to me – if one could even choose that word for his usual monologue. But his surprise was equal to mine when he actually entered my cell and I stared back at him being fully normal, human.

  Isn’t it strange to choose the word ‘normal’ for being human? Not every human is normal, most aren’t, especially not Doctor Severin, but you aren’t normal either, you’re special, because you made me human again, and much less a monster, unlike White. He’s the one that should be locked away.

  Still, me too. I never should be freed, although I have the feeling that you don’t agree with that, do you?

  Day 122

  It seems like getting to visit you is now part of my routine, but it might be just a reward for my cooperation. I still do what I’m being told and show my best behavior.

  Or should I say the Beast in me does?

  Even though I still feel it inside me pacing up and down like a caged predator, it doesn’t fight to resurface anymore. It doesn’t even feel like I have to hold it back anymore.

  We feel the same, it and I. Abou
t you, about what we have to do in order to see you, in order to keep you safe, even though your safety is an illusion and it is not even in our power to ensure it.

  Still... we have an agreement. And apart from that it feels more and more wrong to speak about this Beast as if it was a complete independent creature.

  I know it isn’t. I know it’s me. The Beast and me are one and the same thing. The more I understand that the more I can accept that and I am able to embrace it. And this part of me seems to realize that I am about to do that.

  I guess that’s also the reason why most of the time watching you there is at least one person with me there. Most of the time it’s Severin, playing the scientist when he’s everything else but that, plus another woman dressed in white, taking notes. He leaves after some time, maybe when he’s satisfied with my answers, maybe because of something else. I doubt that he’ll ever get bored.

  I don’t need to be a genius to know that this is some sort of psychic evaluation, to see if I’m sane and stable.

  * * *

  Enduring his presence takes a toll on me.

  That’s the reason I haven’t written for two days.

  It is hard, more than that: it’s exhausting staying calm and focused.

  The only way to do so is by letting my guard down and staring at you lying there pale and motionless, apart from your moving chest and those parts of your skin that vibrate with your pulse. It’s not like hiding my feelings for you now would be helpful. White would consider it a lie and punish me for it. And the only thing still keeping me sane is you.

  Day 124

  I wish I could keep up with writing, but it’s hard to concentrate. For me, it's easier to exercise than to write, when I want to sort myself. I just like to workout until I collapse. Because I’m starting to doubt if you ever will wake up again and be able to read this.

  It has been so long since he put you in that coma.

  There has been no explanation why.

  They have told me nothing about your condition. And I start to wonder if you are even asleep all the time, or if they put you in that bed just for when I am allowed to watch over you.

  You wouldn’t be surprised.

  Me neither.

  This would be something White might be able to come up with just to mess with our heads.

  He knows he couldn’t just put up a screen. I would notice. And he knows that I can recognize the sound of your heart and breathing, even that faint scent of yours.

  * * *

  When we have our ‘talks’, I cannot find any pattern or sense in his questions or statements, the only thing obvious to me is that he really seems to feel like he has won. And I cannot shake off the feeling that he has.

  All I care about is you, and he knows it.

  With silencing you, he has silenced my resistance, my anger, my Beast.

  Maybe this was his plan right from the start.

  It would make so much sense. But, could he really have anticipated all this? Could he have foreseen how deeply we are connected? That you would accept me despite my appearance, despite my behavior, despite everything?

  I’m not entirely sure.

  Yes, this madman is a genius when it comes to mind games – there’s no doubt about it – but I doubt that he has the slightest idea how deeper emotions than the instinctive ones work. I doubt that he’s aware that it wasn’t our physical connection that tamed the Beast AND me.

  I wonder if you think the same about that. Maybe he knows and he simply doesn’t care.

  However, every time has been the same so far. I get into the room first, just a few moments, until he joins me – always with that smirk on his lips – because he knows that I won’t harm him, not even think of it, since he would take you away from me.

  * * *

  I still can hear his words, still remember the time he told me: “I gave her to you, I can take her from you”, while holding a gun to your head. It’s exactly that scene that comes into my mind when I become aware of his presence.

  When you entered the pit I didn’t give it any meaning because they had used your scent so many times on me that I stopped reacting, even though it still has its effect.

  Yet, I knew better, the Beast knew better, than being distracted and lower its defense.

  Not even when I heard your voice in the distance. It was too brief to give it any attention and figure out whether it was real or not.

  Too often they had used tapes of your voice – just talking or your screams – to unsettle me. And I had heard White’s voice often enough in the distance to not give a damn when he was near.

  * * *

  There is no fury, no burning hatred, just the matter of fact. I knew he wouldn’t kill you, but he would take you away without me knowing what would happen to you.

  Day 125

  How I wish I could be the Beast again and nothing more, being blind and deaf to everything around me, just consisting of raw and primal emotions and nothing more. I can’t go back anymore, can I?

  Things seemed to be so much easier then, but how can I wish myself back to being a mindless creature, snapping and snatching like a rabid dog.

  I am already using White’s words.

  I was a wild animal put in a cage, poked with sticks and worse, beaten, forced to fight my own.

  And what am I now?

  There is still this Beast in me and it will never disappear, never vanish, it only sleeps, waits, lurking.

  Yes, I was tamed, but only by you, conditioned to be addicted to you, fixated on you through such a primitive method. Thinking of the beginning makes me feel sick and still I catch myself wanting to go back, where things were easier, because at least then I had you close. Then at least the only real torture White could rain upon me was physical, simply because he believed I wouldn’t understand his words about keeping you away from me.

  Now, he just looks at me and that faint smirk appears on his face, as he can see me suffering.

  He can see how I clench my fists to keep myself from placing my hands against the window.

  It used to be bars separating us, and I used to know that sooner or later those bars would be removed. You had taught me that you wouldn’t run away, or scream, you wouldn’t even be terrified of me, only shaking. At some point I realized that it was anticipation, since the scent of fear was too weak.

  Now, I have no idea when I will ever touch you again, if you will ever look at me again without fear.

  I am terrified by the possibility that you wake up and realize that all you have done and all you have felt was because you instinctively tried to make the best of it. That all of this was only this Stockholm Syndrome White mentioned today.

  Of course he only did that to torment me, to make me doubt everything. I’m not smarter than him; I don’t have any arguments against what he says.

  * * *

  I keep trying to stay positive and the only thing helping is remembering the times I spent with you.

  You can imagine how hard it is not to read your diary in moments like these, when nothing but doubt fills my head. Even more since your scent has worn out.

  I don’t know when it happened and maybe when I could smell it before it was only in my head.

  There is no way to tell now, honestly.

  It doesn’t matter anyhow.

  All that I really have left of you are memories.

  Even though seeing you sleeping... feels like just like another memory.

  It becomes less and less real to me.

  I can’t tell if White is monitoring if I read your diary or not. I do not know if he waits for me to break your trust in order to reward me with waking you up.

  That is something he would do, wouldn’t he?

  If he cares at all...

  But there is no way that I am doing this. I can’t, I won’t... And if I threaten to break my promise, the moment I am actually making it happen, I will give your diary back. I’ll tell him to give it back to you.

  Maybe I should do this ri
ght now. No matter how wrong it feels. You would understand, wouldn’t you? It’s your diary, not you. I would only give back a piece of you, not all of you. But maybe, just maybe, that’s what I really should do. He wouldn’t kill you, would he?

  Day 126

  I dreamed of you.

  It wasn’t really a dream, rather a memory. Just when I needed it so badly. And yet, somehow, it was off. Yet I cannot really say what was different from my real memory.

  I dreamt of that day you gave yourself to me.

  How strange that sounds. It even looks ridiculous written down in my hand. I feel like one of those real monsters they should lock away forever.

  It wasn’t that time when I realized that you were mine, when I found my voice again and told you that tiny little word. I meant it differently then. I knew that your body was mine, because only for that reason White had brought you here. And that when he allowed those guards to molest you right in front of me, he was just trying to prove that it was his decision whether or not you were only mine.

  No, I dreamt of that one time when you forgot what I was. At least it felt like it, because you just gave in, you made that decision and not White, and you made that decision all those times that followed, mostly.

  I remember his calm voice threatening you he would get those guards again, those men I wanted to rip into shreds so badly.

  And I still want to.

  I will always want to kill them. And I almost managed to do so. That’s why White brought you to the pit to calm me. You weren’t blindfolded, or chained.

  As if White had suspected your decision and wanted to debase your choice. But I didn’t care about it back then. I remember.

  You stood there, naked, shaking, supporting yourself against the concrete wall. You didn’t shiver because of the cold, I knew, it was anticipation. I could hear it in your breathing, in your heartbeat, the different tension in your muscles, and I remember how it confused me, how it made me slower.