by Rene Folsom
Peeling my face from the soft covers, I looked around and noticed just how nice this room was—the exact opposite of my soil-covered body and the single rose perched near one of the windows. What was up with her and roses? Made me wonder just how beastly she really was.
I could see the view of the sun-filled sky along the ridges of the mountains through the large floor-to-ceiling window adorning one wall. It was breathtaking and seemed all too cruel considering I had knowledge I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it for long.
I suddenly realized how foolish it was to just go and pass out like I’d done. What if she came into the room and did me in while I was asleep? Obviously she didn’t because I could feel my heart still beating in my chest and my breath wafting rapidly through my lips, but the aches and pains of my body made me wish she had done it just so I didn’t have to deal with the agony.
My mouth felt like cotton as I pushed myself up to a sitting position, my muscles screaming at me for the sudden movement after years of neglect. I wondered what time it was. Was she nocturnal like most beasts of the night? Or would she be awake during the day? I was parched, but I also didn’t know if I really wanted a run-in with my captor right now.
Sliding my boots off my feet so as not to make any noise, I relieved myself in the bathroom and cleaned up a bit before tiptoeing down the hallway toward the kitchen. The house seemed quiet, save for my loud breaths as I tried desperately to steel my nerves.
My eyes tracked all the claw marks that decorated the walls, almost as if the scratches were done on purpose—a careful and cruel reminder of who owned the place. I continued my quiet pace on high alert as I pushed my way through the kitchen door. A squeaking sound had me covering my mouth, certain she would hear. I almost told the door to shush and not give away my location. Oh, if only these walls and doors could actually talk…
Opening the industrial-sized fridge, I was shocked to find it fully stocked with normal human food. My mouth watered at the sight of milk, and I immediately went in search for some cereal to go with it. I hit the jackpot when I peered into the pantry to my right—a box of Fruit Loops just calling out my name. I never pegged the beast to be a Toucan Sam fan.
Pouring the cereal and taking each bite was hard work when I was trying to be all ninja-like and quiet, but the noise I was making didn’t seem to be followed by any beast-like noises, so I felt a bit lighter and safer as I washed my dish and put it away, the red rose in the room being my only witness.
Of course, my new sense of safety made me drop my guard a bit, and I decided to go snoop around while I had the freedom to. I wanted to learn about this female creature that seemed to want to keep me instead of eat me. Answers had to be in these walls somewhere, right?
My sock-covered feet made little sound against the hardwood floors as I crept around. On the other side of the large foyer area was a spacious living room with an unlit fireplace and sparse furniture. What seemed like it could be a nice place to spend time looked barren and, for lack of a better word, lonely. Come to think of it, the only room in this entire house that didn’t seem empty was the kitchen. Well, except for the odd-placed roses, which seemed a bit too feminine for a beast-like creature to possess. And I had yet to explore the upstairs.
Climbing each step carefully, I padded my way toward the second floor, taking the left as my first venture. As I approached a closed door that seemed to block my way, I thought for sure it would be locked and wondered if I would accidentally come upon her room. Did she sleep in a room? The way she ate seemed to tell me she was more human than beast, though her aggressive behavior didn’t lend much to that theory.
With painstaking consideration, I reached for the knob, closing my eyes and silently praying it wouldn’t make a sound. To my surprise, the door gave way with little more than a light click and revealed a room so dark, I thought for sure I had gone blind.
Where were all the windows? Where was all the natural light that seemed to seep through every other crevice of this house? It would’ve been stupid of me to continue, knowing that the beast lay somewhere within these walls. But the search for knowledge had always been my biggest strength in life. Why give up now?
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my phone, deciding it was better to use it as a dull light source rather than risk disturbing whatever seemed to want to hide inside the darkness. Of course, the contraption was dead. I hadn’t charged it since the morning before, so it was really no surprise it was out of juice.
Shoving it back into my pocket, I blindly felt along the wall just inside for a switch. The texture seemed rough, torn, almost like it was under construction or something. A musty smell coming from the darkness assaulted my senses as I finally found a hunk of plastic protruding from the wall and flicked it on.
A dull glow cascaded over the room from a single, naked light bulb dangling in the center of the ceiling. In stark contrast with the rest of the nearly empty house, this room was littered with furniture and completely torn to shreds.
Stepping inside, I watched where I placed my feet as I navigated through the dilapidated quarters. The torn upholstery scattered along the floor wasn’t even the half of it. There were holes in the walls, some in the pattern of deep claw marks throughout every inch of the space. Drapes were shredded, wood was splintered, papers were torn… the carnage was unbelievable, almost as if a tornado of blades and steel bats came through.
Something caught my eye through the rubble, calling to me like a beacon in the night. A desk, sitting against the far wall, seemed to be untouched… all except for the single rose sitting in a vase, nestled neatly on top of the smooth, wooden top. Not even a speck of dust decorated its surface. It was obviously a beautiful and cherished antique, and I just had to see what made it so damn special in this otherwise trashed room.
I stifled a cough as the filth in the air attempted to choke me, but I continued on anyway in search for some answers. Stepping over a broken lamp, I reached the beautiful hunk of wood and itched to touch it. I couldn’t help but lean over and sniff the rose—its scent fresh and powerful—a blunt difference to the rest of this musty space. After a few moments, I finally mustered up the courage to open one of the drawers.
Papers—handwritten manuscripts—sat in perfect order. Every inch of the desk was filled with them. From what I could tell, they were novels, or at least remnants of them. Picking up a file folder, I flipped it open and read the title.
Trusting Fate by Karoline Webber.
A small, hand-drawn rose decorated the piece of paper, settled just beneath the title like a perfectly poised embellishment in a published novel.
The handwriting was neat and rather beautiful, my eyes immediately gripping on the words scattered across the page. I wanted so badly to curl up in a comfy chair and read the whole thing in one sitting. But I knew my time was probably running out, so I put the folder under my arm and continued snooping.
In a rather shallow drawer, the widest one where a person would usually sit, was a photo frame, the front of it laying facedown. It was the only thing in the empty drawer, and I couldn’t help but pick it up to see what was in it.
My mouth dropped open in shock as I stared at the most beautiful, young woman I had ever seen. With her head tilted back ever so slightly, she had such joy in her face—her eyes crinkled on the sides with laugh lines and dimples indenting her cheeks in the most beautiful way. A single rose was tucked behind one ear, the color contrasting with the golden hue of her hair. God, she was breathtaking, and the happiness in her eyes was simply captivating.
Those eyes.
There was something so incredibly familiar about the hazel eyes that stared back at me, as if she knew my soul inside and out. I knew immediately why she looked so familiar… even though the eyes were a different color, they were identical to the beast who stared at me so intently the night before.
“Well, I’ll be damned. I didn’t even think of the fact the beast had family,” I muttered.
“I don’t,” a v
oice boomed behind me, startling me to my core. Jumping with surprise, I dropped the photo. The shattering of glass was a piercing sound to my ears, and I knew I had done it now. If being in here didn’t piss her off, breaking the one photo in the entire house would for sure make her angry.
“I’m sorry… I…” I stuttered, unsure of what to say as I stood stock-still and tried so hard not to tremble beneath her fierce stare.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” she roared. Her broad body was blocking the exit as she stood her ground, feet shoulder-width apart and arms crossed over her chest. Her forehead furrowed with anger while she stared down at me, and the action suddenly made me realize I didn’t want to be pushed around by some humanoid beast on a power trip.
“If you intend to keep me prisoner here, then I need something to do. I was just trying to find some sort of entertainment in this shell of a home you have here,” I spat back, knowing damn well it would likely end my life.
As soon as the words spilled from my mouth, her angry stare faltered, and she looked at me as if I had truly hurt her feelings. I’d somehow hit a nerve.
“You came here willingly,” she said, her tone still hard though her face betrayed her words. “You offered to come.”
Before I could defend myself, she cut me off, fury seeping into her expression once more. “Whatever. We’ll get you something to do. In the meantime, this entire floor is completely off limits. You are not to step foot beyond the stairs. Understood?”
“But—”
“Not up for discussion,” she snapped, turning and leading the way out of the room. I quickly followed, knowing now was not the time to press her buttons if I wanted to continue being one of the living. Before I could exit, she stopped, turning on her heel to face me. “Hand it over,” she demanded, holding her clawed fingers out expectedly.
“I was hoping to read it. It sounds interesting,” I explained, clutching onto the manuscript with both arms—protecting it.
“I’m not comfortable with anyone reading… what’s in that desk.”
Her hesitation had my interest piqued. These manuscripts meant something to her. The human expression of nervousness and embarrassment told me as much, making me realize this beast was much more like me than I initially thought.
“Please? It’ll give me something to do. I won’t bother you, I promise,” I pleaded.
She glared at me for a moment, and then gave a resigned huff. “Fine. Do what you want. Just make sure you give it back,” she ordered, circling around me and pushing me toward the door.
Manuscript in hand, I felt victorious as I hustled down the stairs and back to my room.
The Tension
It took me a few days, but I finally realized that I was no longer in danger of dying. If I were, she would have done it already—unless she was really egging me on, which by this point, would’ve just been childish and fruitless—and since I knew my life wasn’t in any immediate danger, I grew a bit bolder. I often tried to push her for more extensive conversation during whatever period of time we were in the same vicinity, but she always dismissed me with a hard stare or an uninterested grunt. I had a feeling she might’ve been a little bitter about the manuscript incident, which explained her sour mood—although she seemed to always be in a sour mood, manuscript or no manuscript.
And speaking of the manuscript…
The words that were printed on the pieces of paper lying on my bedside table were, for lack of a better term, divine. The manuscript was raw, unedited. One or two mistakes were littered in every twenty or so pages, and most of them were just simple mistakes that I didn’t even take notice to unless I went back to try and find them. But the little mistakes were just a reminder of how pure the writing was. It was written by a real person, not some faceless, dispassionate author like some of the other books I’d read. This manuscript had soul—life given to it by its amazing author, Karoline Webber. Even though I considered myself to be a fast reader, I took my time with it, enjoying each and every word with patience and awe. I didn’t want it to end.
Thinking about the story—of a woman born with a deformity and how she found love with a man who could see her for who she truly was—it was nothing short of invigorating. It was a story of love, of passion, and most of all… hope.
I couldn’t help but relate.
To think that the beastly woman who held me captive harbored such a gem was baffling. What could she possible be doing with it? And why was she so defensive about it? Was this Karoline someone important to her? She’d said she didn’t have family, but for some reason, I felt as if she was lying to me.
Sitting in the kitchen by myself, munching on a sandwich and staring at another fresh rose, I thought of everything—the manuscript, that desk full of wonders, and most of all, the beastly woman. Despite what she had done to me, I still had an indescribable urge to get to know her.
But getting to know her was impossible, with her grunting and dismissive shrugs. And when she wasn’t ignoring me, she was upstairs doing god knows what. Ever since she banned me from going up there, she kept a tight vigil to make sure I obeyed. Whenever we were in the same room, she’d eye me, as if daring me to try and go up there. It irked me, and I almost went for it just to defy her. But I wasn’t stupid, and every time the urge arose, I’d get a glance of her claws and think again.
Chewing on my thoughts and the sandwich, I didn’t notice when she slipped into the room. She was always so deft that, more than once, I’d turn around and she’d be there to scare the meat off my bones. In this instance, I maintained my dignity by merely wincing when I spotted her opening the fridge.
“You need to wear a bell or something,” I said without thinking, coughing as I swallowed my bite of bread and cheese wrong.
“What was that?” She turned to face me, holding a can of soda in her hand, skillfully using the tip of her index finger’s claw to pop it open.
“I’m just saying,” I continued, despite my better judgment. In for a penny… “You should announce when you’re coming, because otherwise, I don’t notice. You’re so damn quiet. It’s like living with a ninja.”
“Are you seriously comparing me to a ninja?” She gave me an incredulous look.
“Maybe.” I gave her a slight grin. “That bother you?”
She snorted, a very unladylike gesture. Although, what little I’d learned about her was the epitome of unladylike.
“Please,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “I’d annihilate a ninja.”
Arrogant, I thought. Another thing to add to my small list of facts I knew about her.
Maybe I could get more out of her while she seemed to be in a halfway decent mood…
“Oh yeah?” I pressed, leaning forward on the table. “And how exactly would you take down a ninja?”
She scoffed. “With these, of course.” She lifted her hand, splaying her claws for me to see.
Well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t lean back a bit at the sight of her built-in knives.
“What if he got behind you? Got to you before you could even lift your arms?”
“I’d smell him before he even got close,” she replied, tapping her nose.
“Your sense of smell is that good?” I asked, not that surprised. I’d suspected she had keener senses than the average person. The way she hunted my father and me down that night seemed very animal-like.
She nodded. “I was able to smell you making a sandwich from upstairs,” she said, grinning as if proving her point.
I made a mental note not to fart anywhere near her.
“Do you have any other superhero powers I should know about?” I asked, unsure where my boldness was coming from. It felt so good to have some sort of conversation with someone, so pressing my luck seemed like the only logical thing to do at that moment.
“I’m no superhero,” she said, her voice a low, almost inaudible growl.
Glancing in her direction, I noticed her stance was slack, slumped almost, as if defeated to her core.
What was meant to be a compliment was obviously a vulnerability she hid fairly well. I stared at her, curiosity getting the better of me, and thought about inquiring further.
Before I could poke the bear, she spoke again, her spine straightening as her voice filled the space around me. “I’m like a wolf—a hybrid of sorts. It’s the nature of the beast to have a heightened sense of smell, hearing, and strength. But I am by no means a being with superpowers. That’s nothing but comic book fantasies.”
She never looked at me as she spoke, her gaze intently staring at a lone claw digging into the surface of the table where we sat, the rose being the only thing separating us. I casually wondered where she managed to get fresh roses out in the middle of nowhere. The beautiful sadness filling her features was contradictory to her words, and I suddenly had the urge to see if I could put a smile on her face.
“My spidey senses tell me there’s more to that story,” I blurted out before swallowing a gulp of water, mentally slapping my forehead at how brazen I was becoming.
“There’s nothing to tell, so just drop it.” Even though her voice was demanding, she didn’t seem pissed. I thought for sure she’d bite my head off, literally, for poking my nose where it didn’t belong. Hell, it wouldn’t have been the first time.
Deciding to change the subject, I got up from the chair to clean my plate and said, “I’m almost finished with the story. Just one more chapter to go.”
She didn’t respond, the noise of running water as I washed my dish being the only sound around us. Shutting off the faucet, I allowed the silence to envelop me before slowly turning to face her. There she sat, her eyes still fixated on the table, where she continued to dig a perfect hole with her fingernail. She was hunched over, obvious discomfort outlining her movements. She didn’t like to be put under the spotlight—that much I knew. Yet, I couldn’t help myself. I was always eager to learn something new, and this creature sitting before me had all kinds of secrets.
