C'est Ma Bête {H.S}

07

This chapter is continuing from where chapter 6 left off so enjoy!!

Colette

"Oh come on, it was funny." He chuckled. "Gotta try and bring a little light to a shitty situation. What can I say? I like to ameliorate." His wide vocabulary making my eyes widen and brows raise. Such an dreadful lie.

"You are such a liar, Harry. You lie worse than our parents lie." I spoke in disbelief. He looks at me with faux offense at my words. Simply and quietly letting out an 'ouch' in response.

I fall backwards into the bed, hair messily finding a place to rest around my head with my hands laid on my stomach. While staring at the ceiling I began to think. Think about that morning the day of receiving the news I am to be married. I had a dream, a dream that was more like a memory.

"I had a dream about you a few days ago." My words slipped out before thinking of how...unusual it had sounded. I turn just my head to face him, which I thought I would be met with his back but instead without me even noticing, he had turned to face me, one leg still hanging off the edge of the bed, while the other was folded, used a a self for his chin at the knee. His back rested on the bedpost behind him.

His brows furrowed as he morphed his face in disgust. "Now who is the one ruining the moment?" He turned my words against me making me chuckle.

Touché.

"Shut the hell up." I laugh, sending a smack to his leather cladded shoe on my bed, which I could really care less about. "I really did. The morning of the breakfast, I had a dream. It was...well it was more like a memory, from when we were kids." My laughing dies down towards the end of my sentence making my face fall while his did the same.

His eyes urged me to continue, giving me the okay to speak about the subject of our younger years. "It was the day I ran to your apartments, the summer I was probably...9 years old, you had just turned 10. And we went we fought on the grass by the gardens, you pretended to kill me. I was La Bête of Gévaudan." My voice spoke the last sentence with dramatics. At first he did not seem to remember. Although I did not blame him. Many if not most of our days consisted of those activities. "I had laid you on your ass that day, and your back was sore for 3 days. You did not want to tell your mother that I was strong enough to take you down, so you had told her that you slipped on the rocks by the river. " I could tell he now remembered because he laughed, recalling it all himself.

It was a genuine laugh, a laugh I still haven't become used to in our interactions since we turned against each other. I forgot how warm it was, sweet. Like honey.

I watched him shake his head while I attempted to decipher the look on his face. We have not had a kind, normal conversation such as this one since we were children. It was such an odd feeling, talking about each other this way, the way we used to. It almost hurt. I wonder it pained him as it seemed to pain me. Besides how much of a breath of fresh air it also happens to be.

"Lord we were obsessed, weren't we?" He rhetorically asked with a peaceful smile.

"With what? La Bête?" I questioned back in confirmation. To which he just nodded with a raise of his brows, which honestly made me chuckle.

La bête of Gévaudan. A story that has been storming through the towns of France for as long as I can remember. Murders. Body's that had been brutally maimed, torn limb from limb. No one ever making it out alive to tell the story. Many claim to have seen. A giant wolf, standing 6 feet tall on just all fours, fur noir, darker than a night sky with no stars. Eyes glowing red. Paws larger than the size of the manliest of men's heads, with razor sharp claws that could kill you with just one scratch. Though there are many depictions of the beast. That is just the one I have always stuck to. The murders were real, there was no doubt about that. The bodies were exposed to the public for all to see, to be frightened by. A warning to stay away from the woods, to keep inside at night. It was a myth of course. But people still talk about it to this day. The murders still occurring throughout small towns and provinces across the land. Scarily enough they have been getting too close to home. The older I had gotten, the more I came to question the reality of La Bête. Regardless, man or beast, it was a cruel death to bare.