Rosabelle [on hold]

Prologue

3rd August 1905

Her numb fingers trailed over the unconscious body tightly tethered to the table. Even under the terrible conditions his skin was warm under her touch. Her fingers traced his each and every feature. Her fingers ran gently over the eyelids that sheathed his eyes, before trailing over the bridge of his nose, all the way down to his lips. Her fingers continued along his sharp cheekbones and she splayed her palm against his cheek, the contrast between her pale skin and his tan skin startling. She wanted to remember every detail of his handsome visage before she erased it with the acrid green liquid sloshing around in the vial she held in her hands. She bent down to his ear and whispered "If only you hadn't rejected me, we wouldn't be in this position. We could have been happy together. Sadly, you were an arrogant, shallow, git. And now, it's going to cost you."  

Her shaky hands connected the sinister vial to the needle as she held it precariously above the boy's arm. The syringe was pressed into the young male's body, the toxins flowing into his veins. The small, shaky hands that pressed down on the needle were cold, due to the heart that only pumped hatred through to them. 

As the virus began to work the body on the table rapidly discoloured. The glow was lost from his skin as he began to twitch violently. She watched as sounds of excruciating pain spilled out of his mouth. The twitches progressively worsened until the body was fiercely thrashing around on the table. An arm escaped its binding and was waving around wildly, thumping against the table loudly. Then suddenly, the body was still, deathly still. A few minutes passed carrying this silence until suddenly a growth began to sprout on his nose. Then his leg. His forearm. His neck. The hideous polyps popping up all over his body. 

Within the hour the entire transformation was complete. In place of the rather fetching young man, a mutilated body lay in his place. Hideous growths spanned his body, disfiguring his appearance. His green eyes were now sunken, his strong nose mashed and his once pink lips were swollen and pallid. The excess flesh made him appear to have grown in size, and the extra weigh forced his legs to be permanently haunched. His feet were swollen, rivulets of blood escaped his gums and his ears were stretched and torn. He truly was a beast, in every sense of the word.

A groan then emanated from the Beast's deformed lips, reverberating around the empty room. She jumped back, startled as the man-turned-monster awakened. She hid herself in the looming shadows, waiting to watch her work come to life. As the Beast undid his tethers, he failed to notice the added wait or his disfigured limbs. She watched as he gingerly stood up, deciding to step out of the shadows, causing him to jump back in shock.

"Abigail? What are you doing here? Where am I?" The young man's voice was unchanged, and rose with worry as he took in his surroundings. The cellar was dark and damp. Moss lined the stone walls and a chill blew in from a barred window. The stone floor was stained with various liquids and a pile of bones sat in the corner. The putrid smell of human waste and death hit him full force.

"I have exacted my revenge." She said simply as she held up an old mirror to his face.

The reflection was distorted by the cracks in the mirror, but even that couldn't excuse the creature that leered back at him. He took in his distorted appearance, the swellings that marred his face, erasing all signs of the handsome man he once was. His forehead jutted out above his eyes. His nose had ballooned and his mouth was drawn back in ugly grin.

"What have you done!" he yells. Abigail doesn't even flinch.

"Don't  you realise the implication this will have on my life? My whole social life, my role as an heir, it's all ruined!"

A cloud of regret settled about her as she realised the man in front of her was naught but a boy. A boy who knew nothing but what he should do, and who he will be. He shouldn't be forced to suffer for mistakes that weren't his. But alas, it was too late. She had gone too far. Using her skills for evil made her into a worse monster than the one standing in front of her.

His ears perk up.

"Anything!" He shouts eagerly. His voice ricochets off the walls of the dungeon, the hope not lost in them.

"I shall give you ten years. If in these ten years you can find a way to love, and be loved back, I shall provide you with the antidote that will reverse the process. However, if by the time the sun sets on your twenty-fifth birthday you have not managed to find love, the chemicals will begin to break down your organs, causing you to die a slow and painful death."

"But who would love me?" the beast asked himself." I am hideous, a monstrosity of a man. No-one has a kind enough heart to look past the exterior to see if there is a soul worth the search. And even if there is, my soul is dark and tainted, who would stay after seeing a glimpse of the abyss that is who I am?"

Abigail steals away , leaving the beast to grieve. He yells and growls s over the loss of everything he knew before coming to a decision. He decides he will not face rejection over and over again. He chooses death. He decides that he can hole up in his family's mountain in France. He will not be bothered there. No-one will find him and he will find no-one. If he has no-one, he cannot get attached, he cannot be rejected. He can live his ten years before fading away.

And so he does.