Beast

Chapter 7

 “Esme…”

 The voice cackled. It pierced my ears like pins, sending horrible shivers down my spine.

“Esme!”

“Who’s there?” I shout into the darkness that surrounds me.

“He, who breaks, must repair.

Or spend eternal life in despair.

No love, no place, 

No human face

 

Canines, claws and red eyes.

There is no time, for goodbyes.

He will hunt, he will howl.

Listen out for his growl.

 

Only one cure for the curse.

Perhaps she will only make it worse.

Her love and kindness.

Will shake the blindness.

 

Treasure, love and protect.

Hold no ounce of regret.

Under the full moon, his time will come.

Then you need to be the one.”

I burst out of the dream with a gasp. The eerie voice still echoed in my head, repeating the lines of the equally eerie poem. I hadn’t even realised the two big, hairy arms wrapped around me had tightened until I could no longer breath. “Warren!” I choke. He jolts awake with a grunt, jerking into a sitting position. Something hits my cheek, making me hiss in pain and a yelp to escape Warren. It was that wet thing I had felt on several occasions. 

“My nose!” He whines, letting one hand go from around me, I presume to rub it better. 

“Have you got a cold?” I too am rubbing my cheek. It throbs.

“Why would you think that?” He asks, placing his hand back where it was on my waist.

“Well, you sniff a lot, your nose is wet with what I presume is snot, and you growl, which I guess is you clearing your throat. It would also explain why you are currently isolating yourself in the dark, your eyes must be sensitive right now.” I nod my head slightly, proud of my prognosis. 

“Right… a cold.” He audibly sneers.

“I’m sorry for making assumptions, but when no one tells me anything, that’s what I will do.” I shrug my shoulders even though he cannot see me.

He sighs, gently rubbing my back. “I guess you have a point. I’m … sorry for being so snappy.” His head rests on my shoulder. The poor guy sounds so tired.

“Perhaps we should go back to bed?” I offer. I feel him shake his head, “Ok…” I really want to feel his hair, I don’t know why but I do. I slowly lift my hand up, careful not to make any sudden movements. My hand gently brushes something incredibly soft and Warren’s entire body stiffens, to the point he even stops breathing. My fingers explore, the hair is incredibly thick. Then I go to stroke towards the back of his head, but instead my fingers go up, until they reach a point, and then back down again. 

Is that an ear? 

I go back to where I started, but this time I go down until he tries to jerk his head away, I hold on to him, pulling him back but drawing a whimper from him. “I’m sorry.” I rub it in an attempt to hopefully chase away any pain and his face burrows back into my neck. The ear twitches when my breath catches, then flatten. Somehow I know this is because he is worried, and especially cautious.

“What are you?” I breathe. Strangely my fingers continued to explore, the hair on top of his head is long and coarse, but it had a soft undercoat. I find I like my fingers here, and it seems Warren does too if his contented rumbling has anything to do with it.

“A monster.” He whispers, his head remains on my shoulder and his arms have not moved an inch.

“What makes you think that?” I ask, resting my own head on his shoulder. The same fur covers this area. 

“I have been told many times. You can feel it, I’m not normal.” He growls slightly, as if he is remembering the times it happened.

“I do not think appearance is what makes someone a monster, but what is on the inside.” I snuggle deeper into his shoulder, he is like his own fire, radiating heat.

“What proof do you have of that?”

“There was this boy, around fourteen years of age; he was badly scarred due to a fire. Everyone called him ‘monster’ and ‘abomination’. No one would talk or play with him accept my family and his. He was the sweetest boy I have ever met, even if his appearance said differently.” Warren remains still, taking in my ever word.

“You speak of him in past tense.” He states rather than asks.

“He was killed. This was when they thought he was responsible for the dry land and missing animals.” I sniff. I refuse to cry again. Little Joseph would not want me crying.

Warren takes a ragged breath, shivering when he exhales. “I am most definitely a monster.” He seethes. I remember the last time he spoke with this intense hatred for himself; it was incredibly strong and deep. He’s convinced and it would take a lot of persuasion to make him think otherwise.

“Well, maybe we can get to know each other and I will be the judge.” I retort. His shoulders shake with a laugh. It was overpowering and beautiful at the same time. 

“You will be the judge? Ok, I’ll let you spend three hours here every day, and you will spend the nights with me from now on.” He states.

“Why nights?” I ask, I had forgotten I was still running my fingers through his hair… fur? Warren is silent for a few seconds before he replies.

“Because this was the first time I have not had a nightmare, as cliché as that sounds.” He sounds sheepish, making him seem adorable for the first time. How can a “monster” be adorable? 

“Ok, deal.” He gently squeezes me. 

“Yay, Sleepover!” He squeals, making me burst into fits of laughter. His voice was just too deep to achieve a girly pitch so it just ended up breaking, making him sound like a sick frog. He lies back down, but this time he pulls me so that his chest is my pillow. The rise and fall of his chest begins lulling me to sleep, even under all the fur you can feel his defined muscles. I seem to have accepted Warren so easily, despite the fact he is so clearly not human, he makes me feel warm, and safe. I just wish papa was here as well, in a safe, warm bed.