Beast: A Hate Story, The Beginning

He laughed but said nothing.

I went cold. “I don’t know why I bother. You can dress up as fancy as you like and do up all these nice trimmings,” I gestured to the lights and table, “but you’ll still be a beast. You’ll never understand what it means to be a good man.”

His eyes flashed. “Does a good man send their child to slaughter?”

“What did you say?” I stammered. Beast went silent. “What do you mean?” I asked. I stood up from the chair, knocking mine over, emboldened with a fiery curiosity. “What? What do you know?”

He said nothing and I gulped, feeling as if I was drowning in the air around us. “What?” I asked. Lifting his napkin from his lap, he lightly set it on the table then looked at me. Though his countenance appeared calm, I knew better. His stare was ferocious, filled with wildfire.

“I gave your father the choice to take you back and he chose to leave you.” As if deciding what he said wasn’t hurtful enough, Beast added for emphasis, “With me.”

I gasped, stumbling back, tripping over the chair I’d knocked over. “Liar.”

Beast laughed harshly. “I have no need to lie about such things.”

“My papa wouldn’t leave me with you,” I seethed.

Beast shrugged. “He did.” I spun around, looking for anything that might give meaning to the words he was saying. Papa had left me? Beast had given him the opportunity to take me back? When had this happened? I could have been free? None of this needed to happen? Questions tumbled through my mind, too fast for me to even comprehend them. It felt like the uncertainty and betrayal swarmed me, wrapping around my legs until I couldn’t stand.

Stumbling back, I fell, ass hitting the cold, wet ground.

The ground was too cold. My head was spinning, the liquor working its way through my blood and making my world hazy. I knew I shouldn’t have been having this conversation right then. I was too impaired, but at the same time, the liquor was making me bold. It was making me dangerous. I felt I needed to confront him.

I didn’t believe it—believe him.

I couldn’t believe that my own papa had thrown me to the wolves.

“Maybe he didn’t believe you,” I whispered. “Maybe if you give me back, he’ll see you’re serious.”

“Frankie…” The Beast’s face contorted into what I believed was pity, or at least his version of it. He stood up out of his chair and came over, reaching a hand out to me. I attempted to smack it away, but the buzz made my attempt poor and uncoordinated.

“What?” I asked. “Just take me to him.” If I could just see Papa, I knew he would take me. He couldn’t have just left me. I mean, Papa wasn’t the best—he often forgot to get dinner and pay the bills, so by the time I could read, I’d taken on those responsibilities—but I was fine with that. Papa was Papa; he loved me in other ways. When I was younger, he would hold me and we would listen to old music. There was that one time that he got too angry and slipped and hit me, but that wasn’t his fault—he’d been drinking for days.

He was Papa.

He had his issues, but he loved me.

“It’s not that simple,” Beast replied.

“Why won’t you just let me leave then?” I snapped. “If you were going to give me back to Papa, why can’t I just go?”

“Do you want to leave?”

“Yes!” The moment the words left my lips, I knew I wasn’t so sure. I’d been staying because I thought I had to, for Papa. Now he was saying that Papa didn’t want me, that Papa had fucking abandoned me. If for a second I entertained the idea that Beast was telling the truth, that Papa had actually left me here…

No.

I shook my head.

That wasn’t true.

Beast was just playing mind games.

He got to his knees and reached a hand out, fingers clasping my chin. “Who’s lying now?” There was no malice in his question, and I found myself leaning into his grasp. His gaze was heady and insistent.

What if he was telling the truth?

The hurt branded my soul, hot and searing and scarring. The worst part, though, was that the Beast had called my bluff. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to leave. I’d been using Papa as a cushion, a reason not to address what had been happening between us. No matter what happened between Beast and me, no matter what became of me, it had always been for the greater good. Now what?