I Am The Beast

Somedays I wish I could rip from myself the version of me still steeped in a poison I didn’t consume. Or perhaps I did. Perhaps I am the reason.. no.. no it is her.. I’m certain of it. I have long since been purging the toxins, she refuses. Claims it makes her stronger. Claims she can endure. To what end? But she doesn’t have an answer. It simply must be because she thinks it so. She does not see the pallor of her skin, the weakening of her mind, the revolting nature of her twisted thoughts. I often contemplate the nature of life and how one could rid themselves of a part of their own being. I’m not without mercy, of course, I don’t wish to cause harm to myself, yet, I do wander towards the practice of lobotomy. I’ve heard of it.. in the asylums, where many a woman goes in for being hysterical... and comes out happier. Though I do not believe they have truly removed the hysterical sense of self, only suppressed it. I was hell bent on removal. Surely this corruption within could not be allowed to continue? Surely I owed it to myself to no longer endure the poisoning, to endure the reign of my own past.

Even now, as I sat in the deep recess of the window, peering out into the cold haze beyond, unable to ascertain any true view, I found myself warring with the thought of clawing open my chest and spilling poison onto the floor. I knew that was not my true wish, but without a viable solution to my ailment, the animalistic nature in me was beginning to take hold.

Perhaps I should walk myself through the doors of St. Martin’s Asylum, tell them of my wish to rid myself of this horrid twisted beast inside of me, and let them crack my skull. Perhaps I should turn from this window, remove myself from this room, and down the vial of cyanide in Doctor Thurst’s Office. My reverie of death is disrupted by the turning wheels of a carriage approaching the manor. My gaze turns from the far foggy fields, to below, where two sleek black horses dredge the covered carriage toward the stone steps.

It had been more time than I could remember since last I’d laid eyes upon a live animal. They were stunning. Rippling muscle beneath sleek pitch fur, mains and tails blowing the damp wind. Tufts of breath wafted from their noses in the chill. I found myself imagining the cold air against my hot skin, sweat beading against my chest, as it heaved with the weight of running. The sting of autumn air in my lungs, the world open before me, a freedom I would never know.

The bell would ring in a moment, summoning me beneath my sanctuary, so I descended from the window. I gathered the light fabric of my skirts into one hand and did as a lady was bade, I floated down the bone white steps, a smile upon my tinted lips. I was in all things the Doctor’s confidant, that alone kept me safe. I spent my days tending to his every whim, every need, being both house maid and assistant. I procured his supplies, made his supper, gave him the warmth of a body he’d taken for granted all the years I’d known him. Yet I was safe.

The heavy wooden manor doors groaned open, like a new body meeting the world for the first time. The horses stood before me now in great splendor and I, a mere girl in a woman’s body, refrained from reaching for them. Curiosity of their touch under my flesh that would never be met. The carriage opened and a man near my own age stepped down into the soggy mud. He was well dressed, a gentleman, perhaps a scholar. Though what kind remained to be seen. I curtsied, as if I were greeting royalty. This was America, a lawless place without mercy, and certainly no place for royalty.

The man tipped his hat, then handed it to me, “Marcus Hawthorne, Miss, I’m here on business with Doctor Thurst.”

I held the hat, fingers gripping more tightly than needed, and smiled, “This way Sir.”

I led him into the manor, the doors groaning shut behind us, the cold light fading into the dimness of candlelight. Doctor Thurst refused to entertain more modern lighting. Marcus followed with a curiosity I could feel brimming beneath his skin. I found it matching my own and once more knew that I could not let the child in me rise. As we moved through hallways and down stair cases, his eyes darted everywhere. Absorbing as much as humanly possible. My shoe echoed as it landed on the stone floor of the lower level chamber, a chill surging across my body, memories crawling like cockroaches across my mind. Marcus brushed past me in a sudden burst of what I could only see as excitement.

“Marvelous.” His voice met the walls with soft reverberation, its low dulcet tones bouncing around my head.

“Where is the Doctor?“, he asked, turning to look at me. He seemed surprised, and I realized that he had not truly seen me among all of his enthusiasm for being in the manor. I could not tell if he was shocked or enthralled, I supposed both could exist in one.

“He’s hosting a lecture in town, he should be back by this evening, Sir. He’s aware of your arrival. I’m to make sure you find your quarters comfortably and provide you with supper. I am here if there is anything you need, Sir.”

My head tipped downward toward the floor, my hands behind my back, as often I addressed Doctor Thurst. Footfalls across the stone, the echo making it hard to pinpoint where he’d moved to. The answer to my question came in the form of his gloved hand upon my chin. I admit, I was grateful for the glove, or perhaps the shock would begin to outweigh the enthralling nature of me. He lifted my head until our eyes met.

“Please, there is no need for such formality with me. I’m a mere man, nothing more.”

Half a smile crept, splitting my lips into an odd smile, “A mere man holds more power here than any King in far off lands.”

At this, his head cocked to one side, the curiosity now sparking between us. Me finding another life beyond the walls of my own prison something new and exciting. Him enraptured by my odd nature. I watched as he looked from one eye to the other in the flickering torch light. Yes, I thought, they are odd aren’t they. Though he took them in, he did not voice any thoughts on them. How refreshing, thought I. A beat of silence bled between us.

“Well, perhaps we can discuss this over dinner.” A breakthrough.

He sat at the obscenely long dining table, in a hall equally as unnecessarily massive for a man who lived with no other than myself and his staff. Stained glass gleaned with what little clouded sunlight managed to get through. It danced macabre colors across the oak table, swaying in the shifting shadows of the world outside. The kitchen staff had prepared the usual arrival meal for guests, which they now worked to serve our new visitor.

I stood in my usual place, just to the left of the kitchen door, waiting to attend any need of whomever occupied the table. Marcus watched me, that curiosity shining in deep amber orbs, vanishing beneath a flutter of lashes on occasion.

“Will you not join me, Miss?”

I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, “I do not usually attend dinners unless the great Doctor deems it to be.”

“Hm, well, seeing as the great Doctor isn’t here, and he did bade you provide me with whatever I wish...” he paused as if in thought, though I knew the pause was only for his own amusement, “then I bade you join me for this most gracious meal the staff has made.”

The creature within me twisted in my chest, a sudden sharp gasp of air, and I marched like the good little soldier, and sank into the chair next to his at the end of the table. He leaned diagonally across to me, setting a plate before me. In the time I’d moved from wall to chair, he’d plated me a meal. Now my curiosity burned. I looked from plate to man and back.

“Please. Partake.”

My hand reached, lifted the dainty metal fork, and shook. We both watched this most unbecoming of a lady’s behavior. His hand covered mine, steady, warm. No longer bound in the leather glove. I almost retracted but his words stopped me.

“I know not why you tremble, my lady, but I assure you, it is not from the cold of skin.”

My hand began to ease, gripping the fork more tightly. I could not find the words to apologize. Nor any words. The weight of his hand lowered mine toward the plate and I plucked from it a succulent piece of meat, dripping in a rich red wine sauce. It lifted toward my lips, until at last I took it upon my tongue and savored the rich depth of flavor that burst across my palette. The animal uttered a guttural groan of pleasure and I froze. I chewed quickly and swallowed.

Marcus imbued me with a deep, natural laugh. It swept the hall in melodic song, leaving me tempted to sway in its tune.

I dropped the fork onto the table, “Forgive me, Sir, it is not my place.” I moved to stand, but once more he halted me with a gentle hand.

“No, forgive me, my lady.” He settled into his seat and ate with fervor, pausing between bites to elaborate on his forgiveness.

“It would seem I must explain myself. You see, I may know more of you than you know of me. That is far too unappealing to me.”

I bristled. He knew of me? What had Doctor Thurst told him? What of me had been exploited to a man before I even met him?

“Doctor Thurst wrote to me some months ago, asking for me to come and stay with him. As you well know, his recent project had been stalled, in simple terms. He deems my experience and expertise to be of some value to the manor. In his writings he spoke of you, of your job here, of where you stand and what I am to expect.”

The cold reality of this man sank into me. Now I was certain. He was another Doctor Thurst. He was going to show me the same treatment. I sat unmoving, letting my non-response stretch and fill the space, hoping to make more of it between us.

“Please, Miss, don’t misinterpret. Doctor Thurst’s work is... unconventional, but I am not here to imitate him. I can see in your eyes, a harbor of fear amid a storm of uncertainty. Thurst told me you are the only one he’s ever fully trusted with himself and his work. He informed me that you are integral to this household and that while you are here to assist, I am to respect you. Which, I found amusing, he deemed it necessary to make such a claim. And yet, it worries me that he had to make such a claim.”

I felt it then, the wrench, the pain, the beat of a war drum not belonging to me, beating beneath the cage of my chest. My hand came up, clutching the top of the corset holding my insides in place. The room tipped. I felt my own haze drift across my vision.

“I’m here to assist Thurst, but also, to help you.”

The words came with such ease and I had to let them sink in with much more caution. Help me? Help me how? Had the Doctor finally understood the poison wreaking havoc on me? Had I become unable to contain the beast, unable to contain any sign of my undoing that he had finally called someone in?

Marcus stood with such sudden speed that the room finally spun about me. No, I could not fade now, I could not let the poison take me into yet another slumber. I struggled against the weight of the creature upon my breast, the air ceasing in my lungs. I felt warmth against my body as I became a weightless being, floating across the room, much like I did when descending the stairs. Colors blurred, rooms melded into one, I was lost in a sea of dim light and shimmering swirls of grey and brown.

A softness came up beneath me, meeting me in the sea and letting me rest there. I was no longer drowning, but drifting. The weight of the creature evaporated, screaming from me, tearing across the room, and vanishing into some unknown shadowy corner. I lay spent, heaving breath, beads of sweat trailing down my porcelain skin. Something new hovered over me. Hulking in size. Nothing more than a shape.

Then came the cool relief of water, it trickled from my forehead, down my neck, and sank into the raft I floated on. Slowly the shimmer of color began to solidify, the sea of lights fading back into singular points beyond me. It was then that I realized it was Marcus who hovered, a cool cloth in one hand, pressing it to my face, brushing the hair from my face. I felt the cool air of the room against my body and I looked down, he’d removed my corset. It lay in a heap on the floor. With the quickness of a sloth I moved to cover myself. That low melodic laugh played again.

“It’s alright Miss. It seems you fainted. You’re breathing got quite rapid and before I knew it you’d slumped over in your chair. You’re still modest. Don’t fret. Your corset was restricting your air. You seem better now without it. Little did he know I only felt better because my demon self was loose in the manor, tip toeing among shadows, free of its cage.

“Rest. I’ll remain here, only leaving to fetch some water. You need it.”

Fear brandished me, tied me in its mortal coil and I reached for him, “No. Send for the staff to do. Please, do not leave me with myself.”

His free hand grasped mine, the fear fighting over whether it should fear Marcus or the creature lurking. I decided I could not bear the fear, my body was too exhausted, and I sank into slumber, resting in a sea of pitch.