Hell Beast

Mirror, mirror

I stare in the mirror, studying myself. My long, dark hair is pulled back in a bun. My green eyes are slightly dilated, and my eyeliner is smudged in one corner. There is a small mark to the left of my nose. There's a scar just beneath my lip, and I bite it as I always do when I'm nervous. My complexion is pale, as it always is. My hands are slightly shaky, and I take a deep breath. I then will myself to shift.

Immediately, my skin becomes chalky and even whiter. My fangs pop out first. They extend slightly over my lower lip, and gleam white. The rest of my teeth become razor sharp, like daggers in my mouth. I then watch as my small horns poke through my hair. They look like stereotypical devil horns, just shorter. They're so stupid.

I then feel the small razors begin to pop out down my back, ending with my dumb pointy tail coming out and wrapping around my right leg. It ends with my eyes turning red, making me look like a crackhead.

I'm the sorriest excuse for a Beast there ever was.

Thousands upon thousands of years ago, my family was cursed. Some old, bitchy witch decided my ancestors were disrupting her cats or something, and decided that for the rest of eternity, we would all be Beasts.

It isn't too bad, because we can shift in and out whenever we want, but I'm the runt of the litter. Beasts are supposed to be courageous fighters, brave warriors. I really don't want to fight anyone. I just want to play violin and be happy.

But, my family still insists that I become a ghastly demon. They say I have the "Devils  Touch", whatever the hell that is. It has something to do with the tail and horns. The rest of my family have great powers, like large wings, razor claws, and bulging muscles. Some even get scales or breath fire. All I get is a touch of Dracula and Satan.

It's not that I'm jealous of them, by any means. As I said, I'm not much of a fighter. But it would be far easier to please my parents if I could do something other than look mean and eat meat fairly quickly.

They say I just need to train more. I say I should just give up on this whole thing and do my homework. But, alas, they continue to push me to be a monster.

I begin to think of Olivia, what she would say about this. Would she be appalled? Not even care? Accepting, even?

Who knows. I've been in love with that girl ever since I laid eyes on her. I love her spiky, short red hair (It used to be long, but she got tired of it one day and cut it all off. Her mother nearly killed her.), sparkly blue eyes, and stunning white smile. She has graceful hands, and subtle muscles which pop out just enough to notice.

Her voice sounds like honey, and her laugh is music to anyone's ears. She is kind to nearly anyone, unless they hurt one of her friends. Then she becomes more of a monster than me.

She's been one of my closest friends since sophomore year, when I sat next to her in math. I had been crushing on her for a long time, and I was happy to befriend her. Now, two years later, I still don't think it will become any more than that. Unless...

My thoughts are interrupted by a shout.

"Cameron, dinner's ready!" I hear my mother yell from downstairs.

I shift back into my usual form, fix my hair, and walk downstairs for dinner.