The Beast and Me by D. S. Wrights Read Free Book Online

White, because I doubt that he’s a doctor – a scientist definitely – but he doesn’t deserve to be called ‘doctor’, not when all of this is really his doing. And the way he moves around, behaves and talks, how proud he is, there is no doubt that he at least plays a big role here, and he thinks of himself as some savior, some pioneer, so ‘white’ is meant more sarcastically. And he wears white, definitely thinks he has a clean slate as white as the jacket he’s wearing, when he really should wear a straight one. Doc at least had some green shirt beneath her white; he is all ‘glorious’.
     
    I am living much closer to the cage now. You know what I mean: to that specific one. It’s only two metal doors and they are – oh hey – painted white.
    I will write this down. I have to. Maybe when I read this once again, I can figure out what I am really feeling.
    But I can’t today. Not today.

Day 30
    I did my best to avoid it, but they didn’t take me to the gym because of yesterday; and I tried everything this morning already to not write it down. Now I sit here and the time for me being taken to the cage has passed, and I feel like crawling up the walls again, because the memories are haunting me, torturing me. Maybe, just maybe if I write down what happened yesterday, it will just end?
     
    Yesterday... yesterday I was blindfolded again. I’m not sure why. It’s not that I am going anywhere, not that I would try to get there on my own. Maybe, it’s just for the effect, because if they don’t want me to be scared off by what I might see, they could put on that blindfold after they put me in the cage. They don’t want me to see what he really is, what he’s changing into and from what.
    It’s hard to write it down. I don’t want to, actually, because it makes it more real, it makes it real, not just a nightmare. But then again, all of this is a nightmare, I am living in it. Do I really want to think that all of this is just in my head?
     
    White told me that it would be crucial for my well-being to tell ‘it’ that everything is okay, because if I won’t continue the ‘sessions’ they would finish what ‘it’ chose not to do.
    Long story short: he threatened to kill me -again – if I don’t do what they want. Needless reminder, you think? My panic was written all over my face.
     
    After they had left and suspended me to the wall – again – I could hear that other door open. And even though no sound followed I knew he was there, staying away, and the bars, the gate, didn’t move.
    “Do you want us to remove the wall?” I heard White through the speaker along with the buzzing sound of electricity, and I knew that this wasn’t a question.
    So, I nodded.
    This is crazy.
    I didn’t hear him move, maybe because he didn’t.
My voice was shaky even though I did my best to speak calmly: “It’s okay. See? I’m fine.”
    Hesitantly, I added: “now”, and after another pause... I don’t know why, but it felt like the right thing: “It’s not your fault.”
    All of the sudden he was close. I could hear him breathe next to my right ear and he plucked at my hair again, brushing it out of my face. Fingers were on my cheek, with claws. Somehow I knew he was upset. Maybe I just imagined him, humanized him, because there hadn’t been any the last time, when he first touched me.
    I have to think about this later, now I have, I must write this down because... I feel like going insane. Or I am already...
    I heard the cracking of the speaker, followed by the buzz, but they switched it off again. And I instantly realized why it had happened: my hips were shoved away from the wall, two hands on them.
    He was kneeling next to me, reaching around me from the right. And those hands shoved up my T-shirt.
    Was this the true reason why Doc wanted to make sure that everything was satisfactorily healed?
    Of course I flinched as I felt his fingers on my scars – there are scars, I think there always will