Beast: A Hate Story, The Beginning

I scoffed. “Go fuck yourself.” I didn’t wait to hear what excuses he had for me. I finished walking to my room and slammed the door in his face.

I was fucking leaving.

I didn’t really have much to pack as I hadn’t gotten to pack in the first place, but I figured since I was probably going to be on the run, I should grab a few things. Beast had said he’d let me leave, but he’d said a lot of things—like that Papa was safe and accounted for, for instance.

I hurriedly grabbed things I could use, practical things like warm pants and sweaters. I didn’t have a lot of practical things in my closet—most of the shit was haute couture and high heels—but there were a few. I paused, surveying the room. My heart hammered in my chest. It had only been a few weeks, but I was inexplicably tied. I had to go though. I couldn’t stay. That went beyond insanity, it was suicide.

Nikolai said my papa was safe, so Beast had nothing on me. Staying was just…

I shook my head.

I had to go.

I turned back to the overstuffed bag when I heard the door open behind me. Ice-cold fear ran through my veins, my gut stilled, and I just knew he was behind me.

Oh God.

I knew he’d said I could go, but somehow I also knew he would try to stop me. I knew, because there was a part of me trying to stop me as well. An insane, deadly part of me that didn’t want to go. A part that was yelling to throw the bag back in the closet.

Fear was rushing through my body as I turned to see him. He walked toward me, but he was unsteady and he paused at my dresser. He knocked a few items off and I flinched. I knew my absence wouldn’t go unnoticed. I expected punishment but God, I was so stupid. I’d completely given myself up.

He faltered the last few feet then he dropped to his knees.

“I’m sorry, mio cuore,” he murmured into my dress, grasping the shimmering fabric between his fingers. “I’m sorry.” He kneaded his head into my dress then turned to face me. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You’re all I have, Frankie.” He went silent for a moment and I listened to everything—the muted laughter outside, my stuttered breath, the band outside singing Elvis’s “Blue Christmas” with their muffled trumpet and saxophone.

“I’ll have a blue Christmas without you…” he sang into my thighs. He chuckled, but it wasn’t happy. “My papa used to sing this song to my mama. I don’t want to be Papa, Frankie. I don’t want to sing this song to you.” Then he passed out, leaving me to wonder what the fuck that meant.

I looked at the half-stuffed bag to my left, then to the passed-out Beast in my lap.

What. The. Fuck?

A minute later my door opened again. I jumped, practically hitting my head against the wall.

“Is he out?” Nikolai popped his head in, leaving the door partially closed.

“Oh thank goodness,” Gabby said, coming in after. She gently shut the door behind her then turned around. Coming over to me, she lifted him up by his hair then showed Beast to Nikolai, who nodded. Apparently satisfied, Gabby dropped him and he fell with a heavy thunk back to my thighs. “We don’t have long until Tough Tino comes looking for him.”

“You did this?” I asked in a whisper-yell, gesturing at the body on my lap. “Jesus fucking Christ!”

“We put a little something extra in his drink,” Nikolai said nonchalantly.

My eyes widened. “He’s going to kill me. Actually murder my body.”

“He’s not going to know anything,” Gabby said to me, but then she turned to Nikolai and asked, “Right, Nikolai?” What the fuck did she mean by that? I shot daggers at Nikolai, but if he noticed he didn’t care.

“We’re going to get him to bed and he’s going to wake up thinking he had a great time.” Nikolai grabbed both of his legs for emphasis and Gabby quickly followed suit, grabbing his arms. With eyes so wide I felt like they’d peel off my fucking face, I watched them carry the big bad Beast’s passed-out body through my room and toward the door.

“Frankie you play lookout,” Gabby said.

“I play what?” I yelled.

“We need to get him to bed,” Nikolai said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I shook my head as if I could get the words out of my mind the same way you do with water in your ear. “I don’t think I heard you.”

“This guy is really heavy, Frankie, come on,” Gabby pleaded. Her legs were bending, arms straining, obviously over exerting herself.

“I was in the middle of something…” I trailed off.