The Freak and her monster

AUTHOR NOTE

The Freak and Her Monster is a dark romance with morally grey characters, obsessive love, family politics, and violence.

Anayasha sees and processes the world differently, and that shapes the way she experiences love, fear, attachment, and relationships throughout the story.

Please step into this book knowing that its characters are flawed, intense, and sometimes messy-but they are deeply loved by me, and I hope they will be by you too.

1

NOTE ✍️ : Anayasha is 20 years old write now and Om is 27.

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When the freak meets the monster...

Freak

"Why are we taking the freak with us, Dad?"

Those were the first words I heard while climbing down the stairs.

My cherry red saree kept getting tangled in my heels. Walking in them was a nuisance. By the time I reached the last step, I was already annoyed.

"Shivangi," Dad said sharply. "She is your sister. Mind your tongue."

I stepped off the stairs and looked at my elder sister. She was already dressed for the party in a deep blue saree, her makeup flawless, her hair curled into soft waves. Pretty. Angry. Annoyed.

When our eyes met, she immediately took a step back.

"See?" she snapped, pointing at me. "She's doing it again. She keeps staring like that. It's creepy."

I tilted my head.

"Dad," I asked, "is di angry or scared?"

Dad's eyes softened the way they always did when he looked at me-when he looked at either of his daughters. He said that was what love did to a person. It made their eyes gentle.

I had tried copying that expression many times in front of the mirror. I always ended up frowning instead. So eventually, I stopped trying.

Maybe I am not capable of love.

"She's both angry and scared, Anayasha," Dad said softly. "And haven't I taught you not to glare at people?"

Oh.

I turned to Shivangi di and held both my ears. "Sorry, Di. I won't glare."

"Keep your sorry to yourself," she snapped. "You don't even feel guilty when you say it. You just repeat whatever Dad teaches you. You're like some robot he trained."

"Shivangi." Dad's voice turned dangerous this time.

I took one step back.

Do not interfere when other people are fighting.

That was one of Dad's rules.

Shivangi crossed her arms and looked at him. "I'm not taking her with me. I can't spend an entire evening pretending everything is normal while she stares at people and asks them weird questions. Take your favourite daughter with you."

She turned to leave, then looked over her shoulder at me.

"And stop looking at me like that. It gives me chills."

"I'm not looking at you like anything," I said truthfully. "I'm only trying to understand your expression."

"That is not helping!"

"Enough," Dad said.

Shivangi huffed, grabbed her car keys from the console table, and stormed out of the house.

The main door slammed behind her.

Silence settled in the foyer.

Dad sighed.

Sad.

I recognised that emotion easily.

"Are we not going to the party anymore?" I asked. "Because if we're not, can I go back to my room?"

Dad walked up to me and held out his hand. I placed mine in it.

"We are going," he said. "And before we leave, repeat the rules I told you last night."

We started walking toward the door, and I repeated them one by one.

"Do not glare at people.

Do not ask strangers too many questions.

Do not interfere in other people's fights.

And do not leave dad's sight."

Dad nodded once. "Good girl."

I liked it when he said that. It made my chest feel warm.

We got into the car, and I sat beside him in the back seat, looking out of the window as the city passed by. Bikes wove between cars, street vendors shouted from the pavements, and two men were fighting near a tea stall.

I leaned closer to the window glass.

One of them shoved the other. The other man's face twisted-jaw tight, nostrils flared, eyebrows pulled down. I copied the expression, opened my phone camera, and clicked a picture of my own face.

Then I turned and showed it to Dad.

"Angry," I said.

Dad glanced at the photo and smiled faintly. "Correct."

I saved it. I would look at it later and practise.

I have learnt all the emotions and maybe if i practice it every day I too can react like normal humans.

The car rolled through a pair of tall black gates after the guards confirmed our identity. Beyond them stretched a long driveway lined with lights, ending at a palace-like mansion glowing gold against the night.

The party was being hosted at Rathore Mansion. It was Mr. Rathore's 55th birthday, Our families do not get along but these kinds of gatherings require everyone's attendance. To show off their power.

Dad stepped out first, then offered me his hand again. I took it and followed him inside.

The moment we entered the main hall, noise crashed into me.

Music floated through the room, but it did nothing to hide the louder things-the clinking of glasses, the laughter, the constant hum of conversations layered over one another. Men in expensive suits and women wrapped in glittering sarees moved around beneath crystal chandeliers, smiling at people they probably hated.

"It's loud," I muttered, already feeling irritation prickle under my skin.

Dad reached into his pocket and handed me a pair of earplugs.

I put them in immediately.

Relief.

The room didn't become silent, but it became bearable.

Dad took me around with him for the next hour, introducing me to people I had no interest in knowing. I didn't hear most of what they said because of the earplugs, but I had learned that if someone looked at me expectantly, the correct response was usually to nod once and not speak.

That worked for a while.

Then it stopped working because I got bored.

"Dad," I said, tugging lightly on his sleeve. "This party is boring."

He looked amused. "You've only been here for an hour."

"It feels like three."

His lips twitched.

"Can I leave now?"

"No."

"Can I go back home?"

"No."

I thought for a moment. "Can I at least explore?"

He studied me for a second before nodding. "Fifteen minutes. Not more. And stay inside the house."

"Okay."

I left before he could change his mind.

The main hall was too full of people, too full of perfume and laughter and bright fake smiles, so I searched for somewhere quieter. A narrow hallway on the far side of the mansion caught my attention, and I slipped into it.

The walls were lined with paintings in heavy gold frames.

Boring.

I kept walking.

At the end of the hallway, I found a door slightly ajar. Light spilled through the gap.

Curious, I pushed it open and peeked inside.

It was a surveillance room.

That was instantly more interesting than the party.

The room was empty except for a long desk lined with monitors, keyboards, and blinking control panels. Different camera feeds covered the screens-the ballroom, the driveway, the gardens, the kitchen, the parking area, the back corridors.

Computers have always interested me more than people. Computers followed logic. People did not.

I slipped inside and sat in front of the monitors.

For a few minutes, I simply watched. Guests gossiping near the bar. A waiter almost dropped a tray. Two women smiling at each other while their eyes stayed cold. A little boy trying to steal sweets from the dessert counter. My fingers tapping on the table in rhythm.

Then one screen caught my attention. My rhythm broke.

The camera angle was different from the others. It wasn't inside the mansion.

A man in a black three-piece suit stood in the middle of a forest clearing, looking like darkness had decided to take human shape. Moonlight filtered through the trees, silvering the edges of his shoulders. Another man lay at his feet on his knees, bruised and bleeding, his hands tied behind his back.

The black-suited man held a gun to his head.

I leaned forward. Fingers curling around the edge of the table, eyes narrowed a question forming.

Would the man's head explode if he pulled the trigger?

Movies never showed what happened after the bullet entered. They cut away too quickly. That always annoyed me.

I rested my elbows on the desk and watched the screen more carefully.

The kneeling man was crying now, saying something I couldn't hear. Begging, probably. The man in the suit didn't move. He looked completely still, as if another man's terror bored him.

Who was this man?

Then his hand rose to his ear, fingers brushing the tiny earpiece there.

He went silent.

I leaned closer not wanting to miss the scene in front of me.

And suddenly, without warning, he turned his head and looked directly into the camera.

My spine locked.

For one suspended second, it felt as though he could see me through the screen.

My heartbeat kicked hard against my ribs. My skin went cold, and every muscle in my body tightened at once.

Fear.

I knew that one.

A smile spread slowly across my lips.

I reacted without needing to stop and think. Dad would be pleased.

I looked back at the monitor, still smiling faintly.

The black-suited man hadn't looked away.

His eyes were narrowed, sharp and watchful, fixed on the lens as if he knew exactly where I was sitting. Then, very slowly, he lifted one finger and crooked it toward himself.

Come here.

The smile slipped off my face.

That was not possible.

He turned away a second later and looked back at the man kneeling at his feet, saying something I still couldn't hear.

I leaned closer to the screen.

To watch the climax.

A sharp prick bit into my neck.

My body jerked.

I tried to turn, but my limbs were suddenly heavy, my thoughts slow and slippery. The room blurred around the edges. The screens melted into streaks of colour and light.

Someone was behind me.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

The last thing I saw before darkness swallowed me was the black-suited man on the monitor, lifting his gun again.

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Sooo, how was the first chapter people?

And what do you think about Anayasha?

Also who is this man in black suit 🤔?

If you like the chapter please click on the s. It motivates me.

See you all lovely people in the next chapter 👋