The Beast of Yeller Wood

Chapter Fourteen

           I sucked in air, but it didn’t fill my lungs. He stood there menacingly, I couldn’t see his face. When he slowly took a step in, my heart felt like it was pounding through my ribs frantically I was so terrified. Then he took a few steps closer, I tensed waiting for death. I was so unsure about how bad it would hurt. I sent a little prayer to God silently. I shifted back further into the pillows.

                “It looks like you’re finally awake.” He mumbles,

                My eyes follow him sharply as he trots over to the window and throws open the heavy velvet curtains. Dull light pours in; the sky is forecast and gray. The big window is really French doors opening to a small balcony. I cannot see how far up I am from the ground. The light finally reveals the Beast’s face, it is dark and strong. He is handsome I must admit, but his face is too harsh. The glint in his dark green eyes in intimidating, and he looks as if he has something sinful and shameful in his mind. This repulses me deeply.

                “Don’t look at me like that you whore.” He sneers,

                He just called me a whore! How dare he call me or any woman such a terrible name and a terrible accusation! I open my mouth to screech a slew of nasty insults but my voice stops. Nothing comes out, I try to scream bloody murder or even I try the softest whisper and nothing comes out. The Beast has a haughty smirk smeared upon his face. He did this to me I just know it!

                “Much better, I can’t stand your voice even the little I have heard of it.” He drones as if he is terribly bored already by our conversation. “I am here to do some explaining to you. First, do not refer to me as the Beast like you and your pitiful village so kindly call me. My name is Heath Tunstall the Fourth, but you are going to call me Master understood?” He pauses, he darkly chuckles to himself. “Wait, you can’t respond to that because I froze your vocal chords how silly of me to forget that!”He laughs some more as he seats himself at the foot of the bed.

                He looks at me longingly, it bothers me. I make a disgusted face at him which only amuses him more, he reaches out to touch my hair like the pig he is. I jump back repulsed by the thought of his touch, he murdered my villagers and has taken me to this dastardly place to keep me like a pet.

                “Don’t like to be touched, eh? Well I can assure you Belinda that soon you will have to get used to it. Because I am going to keep you here, soon you will understand why and in fact soon enough you will find yourself content and in love with me. I have tricks and spells of all sorts to woo you, soon enough child you will love me more than my pathetic little brother John you’ve fallen head over heels with.” Wait—this is John’s brother?

                John lied to me, and I am here with this bastardly man probably because of him. Anger bubbled up in me, I wanted to scream and to yell and to shout at the top of my lungs about how infuriated I was. He lied, I love him. He lied to me though, and nothing on heaven and earth can change the painful truth about lying. How could my John be the brother of him…this disgusting person…or creature I must correct myself?

                “I have waited a long time to find you, and you will solve all of my problems with your love and affection.” What did he mean by that? “I will give you the world, I can bathe you in riches beyond heart’s content and I can give you eternal life. Does that not sound like the key to happiness?” He tries to entice me with his words,

                I highly doubt that this is even close to true, but even if it was I wouldn’t want it in a heartbeat. I suppose most would kill for such a thing, but I am contrary. Such riches are frivolous and unnecessary, and everlasting life is abnormal. God made people to be born, age, love, marry, create life, raise that life, continue aging, and then eventually die. To be an aged, experienced soul thrown into the body of youth is strange and most of all—wrong. I shake my head, this man is a fool. Just take me back to my deceitful, sincere, flawed, and perfect love. That is my key to happiness purely. I would ask for nothing additional and nothing fewer. But I can’t ask a fiend like him to have the mercy to grant me such a straightforward thing. Moreover, he spoke of me like I was his self-seeking cure.

                “You don’t think you want this? Such a foolish, lovesick child you are my dear.” He pets my hair,

                The touch makes my limbs feel weak and my soul feel helpless, and nothing in this world I hated more than his touch because of that. I hated him.

                “I like to see your expression when you’re mad; it’s a shame I don’t savor hearing your voice when you are livid at me. Maybe I will when you are in ecstasy with me.” He laughs,

                I curl in disgust; he plans to use me akin to a prostitute. And in return he gives me the two things I do not desire; I have never felt further trapped in this dungeon of vulnerability. He looks into my eyes deeply, I don’t see beautiful things—in fact I don’t see a single thing except for his murky green eyes staring back. He may be John’s brother, but he was nothing like John. And they were in my heart on opposite extremes: with Heath I loathed him and hated him more than any earthly thing and with John, well he is just love essentially. Both strangers, but I had on the spectrum completely different feelings towards them. He growled deep in his throat, anger and fury rushed out.

                “Of course he did,” He pulls himself away from the bed; he runs his fingers through his hair as if it will solve something. “He’s bonded with her; he’s bonded with my only cure. Well he is going to regret it.”

                What was he talking about? He spoke to himself like a madman, his eyes wide as he twitched agitated. He slowly turned his head to convene with my eyes; my voice came back with a soft whimper. I have never laid my eyes upon someone so angry; he didn’t project his rage physically or verbally. But the pure torture and anger the lit his face was terrifying, this man was capable of great and terrible things and this antagonism was going to spur many terrible events. I clung onto the blankets weakly like they were going to take me from the damned castle and carry me far away from all of this hatred. He turned on heel out of the room shouting to the servants inaudible orders.

There was only one demand I could catch, “Prepare the horses, we search for that scum John by noon.” I was left cold, I felt numb.

                His own flesh and blood brother was going to scout out John; Heath had a royal army, hound dogs, scouts men, in actuality he could obtain anybody to locate John. He was going to kill John. That look of anger as I pondered deeper in fact was really the look of evil. All of this left me deserted here with more questions than answers. I was marooned on an island of bed with a broken ankle; there was nothing I could do even if a tried. There was no probable prospect that I could flee the imprisonment of this bed chamber hidden somewhere deep in tunnels, spiraling staircases, and rooms in this mammoth castle. All I could do was lay and think.