The Beast

Chapter One

Inside the bathroom, consumed in his own thoughts, Puck went to bend over the sink with his hands gripping the edges of the counter. His tanned back divulged to the cool evaporation, was slick and shiny as water dripped down his spine to the brim of his towel loosely wrapped around his pelvis. The steamy scent of soap covering his skin left him feeling suffocated as the hot atmosphere gave him no room to breathe. With his head hung low to stare at the running faucet, his posture remained stiff and his muscles held tense.

With his arms constricted and his legs locked, he refused to look at his image in the mirror when he'd only feel anger and hatred.

"Why? It's been two months already." Puck whispered painfully. " Haven't I been through enough suffering? I don't get it.".

Two long winter months had whisked by and he still hadn't found anyone. His friends, servants, and cougars could barely remember his name, faintly recalled what he looked like or muttered his first intial now. And all Puck did was watch his life slip through his fingers once again, while his past roamed in the back of his mind over and over again. It was no surprise, when he'd lost hope weeks ago.

Immediately, Puck splashed the cold liquid trickling along the side of the sink, against his face. He grabbed the knob to turn the water off as he took in a deep breath to keep control, because thinking about it wouldn't do him any good.

He wiped the sweat from his cheek and glared at the level of the water diminishing into the drain. The tapping of his fingers along the marble, made him even more restless than earlier. Normally it wouldnt've been a problem but today he just couldn't come to look himself in the eye. And whether it was just one of those days or not, he figured that maybe the curse was just messing with him.

Nervously raising his head, he lifted his hand to clear the fog that was accumulating on the glass.

After each strainful swipe, the lump in his throat grew larger. His heart pounded trumendously inside his lungs, desperately searching for oxygen. His chapped lips quivered uncontrollably and his body shook.

Gawking at his own reflection, he stood silent. Standing before him, tattooed by the aged scars set across his chest, arms, neck, stomach and also face, was himself.

"I'm still hideous."

Puck covered his face and turned away abruptly when the tears had threatened to shed. He backed away, and sighed hopelessly. He knew the courage to look himself in the eye would never be enough to break the spell.

"Dammit old hag, I've learned my lesson!" Puck desperately punched the wall, thanking god this was a sound proof area. "I know what it's like to be ugly!"

He was aware that his temper was getting worse by the hour, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The curse had it's consequences, it made him more prone to emotions. Everything would be magnified whether it be enmity or depression, and it had the potential to stay with him forever.

Trying to restrain himself he stumbled backward and slumped to the floor, sliding his back along the door to sit. He embraced his arms to prevent from further destruction. With his knees propped up to his chin, he slid his hand across his head. "I don't deserve this. I don't understand. What's her angle?"

He sat for a few minutes to relax but it was soon interrupted by a high pitched voice calling on the other side of the bathroom entrance.

"Master, your outift is ready!"

Irritated, Puck rolled his eyes. It was obvious he knew just who that was but it could be a distraction to his recent episode.

Forcing himself to stand, he tightened the closure on his towel and went to open the door. His feet still wet on the carpet, he sauntered into the bedroom. The wind of fresh air drafting from his ankle upward, he did not seem at all pleased.