Some Beauty and the Kind-Of Beast

- 11 -

11 — The Beast

I sigh and end the call once I hear Donna addressing someone else with fake enthusiasm. She still thinks the field is up, but it fizzled out about an hour and a half after Felix left with her.

"Why did you let her go, Adam?"

I ignore Alfred.

"Didn't you hear her? The way she sounded . . . I've never heard such heartbreak in my life."

"You're a robot," I tell Sec-C. "You haven't really heard much emotion in your life."

"Can you blame me?" she snaps at me. "Its not like you're very open about the constant misery you feel. Which, by the way, has gotten worse ever since you sent Donna away."

"I had to send her away! She would've never left otherwise."

"Would it really have been so bad to let her stay?" Alfred asks cautiously. "She improved your mood greatly."

"Yes, Alfred. Because there is that stupid thing that I stole downstairs. A mistake I made that she shouldn't have to pay for. Besides, she belongs with her family. Alive."

Alfred hums quietly. Sec-C doesn't.

"Why is it so hard for you to let a little love into your life, Adam? You programmed Holly and Logan like children, but you don't give them the care children desire. Fair enough, they're droids like Alfred, Bleu and I. But Donna? She's a human being like you, she lov--"

"Who could love a beast?"

"That's not what she saw when she looked at you, and you know that."

"It doesn't matter anyway. She's gone, safe. You all should leave too. Don't want you in bits and pieces when the ornament self destructs."

I turn and walk towards the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Alfred calls out.

"To die," I call back, not answering the questions that follow.

I go down into the basement and I'm tempted to lock the door behind me, but decide against it.

I pull up one of the chairs from its side and set it in front of the small table. So I lied to Donna, told her I couldn't understand the symbols. But ten years with this thing, did you really think I wouldn't eventually find a way to learn it?

Now I know what you're probably thinking. Ten years? Yes, I stole it when I was ten years old. Why? Because I wanted it and it looks beautiful and it was within my grasp. I've been a thief nearly all my life.

That, I didn't lie to Donna about. I wasn't poor or orphaned or anything like that, but I might as well have been. I was a golden boy, my parents' most prized possession. Yeah, a possession. I never felt like their kid, just something they owned, something to show off. Now, I'm not saying I disliked having the pretty face that spurred that desire to show me off in my parents, I'm just saying I wish my parents didn't see me as some kind of trophy. Like, hey look, we made a pretty child.

So I started doing everything wrong that I could think of -- except murder, because I was still a child. I behaved badly in public situations. I mastered the street art of petty theft and evading authorities instead of mastering something like the piano or painting. I hid things that I stole in other people's pockets and feigned ignorance of the whole ordeal. To be honest, it was fun.

But, as all good times do, the fun ended.

Now, another question might arise about why no one tried to get a ten year old kid out of an abandoned mansion. At first, they did.