Beast: A Hate Story, The Beginning

Oh God.

I put my arm against the wall, looking for support. The woman was nowhere to be seen. The people had closed the gaps I had made with fabrics of black, white, gold, red. They smiled, clinked drinks, and threw heads back and laughed. So many sounds commingled into one loud roar in my ear.

I looked around, feeling suddenly like I wasn’t just in a sea of people, but drowning among them. I put my hand to my chest.

I’d never had a panic attack before.

Was this one?

Or was I dying?

“Vic is in the pantry,” Gabby whispered into my ear.

I jumped, pulled my arm off the wall, and snapped, “Well I hope he finds something tasty in there.” I walked away, furiously pushing through people like I was at a concert. The crowd was thick and unyielding, everyone wanting to stick to their groups and cliques. I used my elbows and I heard yelps of indignation as I trudged through.

“Frankie!” Gabby whisper-yelled at my back as I elbowed through another group. “Something is going down tonight. I don’t know what, but Emilio is here and he is never at events, and the press is talking to him and—”

“I don’t care!” I spun around. “I don’t know who Emilio is and I don’t fucking care because I don’t care about any of this anymore.”

Gabby frowned. “Emilio is my brother and you should care because he—” she pointed to the man I’d seen at the Christmas Eve party, the same one Vic had been talking to earlier “—is deadweight. The only reason Beast would want him is as some kind of puppet.” For a moment I got sucked back in. I had no idea Gabby had a brother. She and Emilio looked nothing alike. Where Gabby had blonde hair, brown eyes, and freckles, Emilio had brown hair and crystal blue eyes.

Did she have more siblings? What would Beast want Emilio for? I shook my head. No. I’m getting out of this world.

I lowered my voice, leaning closer to her. “I don’t want this okay? I don’t want any of it. I’m getting out of here.”

“Wha—” Gabby shook her head as if changing tactics. “You are the only hope we have,” Gabby implored. I paused, looking back. She’d stretched out the word “only” and was now looking up to the ceiling. I followed her gaze, wondering if I’d see what she saw. All I saw was the ceiling.

Gabby opened her mouth as if to say something else but instead folded her arms, wrinkling the satin of her dress. She stared at me silently, and I had the impression she was reevaluating me. Gabby was beautiful. There was something about her. She wasn’t a “traditional” beauty. Her hips were a little too wide, her breasts small, her waist maybe a bit too tiny, but when you looked at her, she was striking. She made you do a double-take.

The dress she wore screamed elegance with its long sleeves, a plunging V, slit up the side, and understated belt. As we stared at each other, I tried to summon any concrete facts I had about Gabby, not just feelings. What did I know about her? Her favorite things?

I knew she’d been abused. I knew she was Sofia’s daughter. I now knew she had a brother. I knew she was in love with a man named Levi, and that love was tearing her up inside. I knew she murdered her husband.

I knew she was dangerously naive and fiercely loyal—a loyalty that was currently directed at me.

So what did she see in me? What did any of them see in me—besides a fucking rumor?

The pain in my chest got tighter.

“I can’t breathe,” I said—well, more like wheezed. “People are calling me Valeria and handsome Asian men are pledging their fealty to me. This isn’t my life! I’m just some chick from Jersey!”

“Who called you Valeria?” Gabby looked around, excited.

“Stop being so excited,” I snapped, throwing my hands out. “This isn’t exciting, this is terrifying!”

“Come.” Gabby gently took my arm, pulling me from the center of the ballroom to the side. She waited until I’d regained some control of my breathing and said, “You were never just some girl from Jersey. You were always a princess.” She spoke as if it was so silly of me to try and question it.

“You be princess,” I said. “You’d be good at it.”

She leaned back against the wall with a wry smile on her face. “You don’t get to choose what you’re born into.”

I scoffed. “This is America, Gabby, that’s exactly what you get to do.”

She laughed. “You are a princess, Frankie. You’ll still be a princess if you run away, you’ll just be a princess without a kingdom.” Her words ran through my body, breaking me out in shivers.

“I just… I can’t…” I peeled off the wall, sprinting through people until I was sure she couldn’t see me.

I wasn’t a princess.