The Glass Mask Read online

  He took this as a sign of her forgiveness and pulled her battered body into his arms.

  Beauty made no sound, nor did she return the gesture. She felt nothing really, except for the pain in her body. Inside, she felt numb. Like she was watching all of it happen to someone else.

  As he cradled her in the silence, she accepted that nothing would ever be the same. Numbness, silence, and pain became her best friends that day. Some sick part of her own mind started to plant the seeds that she deserved everything she got.

  Beauty deserved anything the Beast would do to her, because she was unworthy of anything better.

  Chapter 4

  A prison with no bars...

  AFTER THAT NIGHT, her life changed completely. She wanted to believe him when he said it won’t happen again. She convinced herself that if she just loved him enough, he would love her back. She wanted to believe him his apology had been sincere, but sadly it was all an act. The Beast was an expert at lies and manipulation.

  The pregnancy was already high-risk. Beatings and rape only increased the danger. Around 12 weeks along, the doctor told her that since three-fourths of her cervix was gone from the cancer, she was already three centimeters dilated. This complication meant she needed to be on bed rest... and no intercourse.

  The Beast went with her to all the doctor’s visits. In fact, he went everywhere with Beauty; even standing outside the bathroom door. There were no locked doors in the Beast’s home. This was a rule.

  At the doctor’s visits, he would smile, and charm the doctor, nurses, and staff. Always playing the attentive, loving father-to-be and future husband. His excitement over the future baby was evident for all to see. His mask did not even slip when the doctor told her to stay in bed and abstain from intercourse, looking pointedly at the Beast as he did so. This surprised Beauty and worried her at the same time. What torture does he have in store for me? she wondered.

  He blamed her for everything that displeased him. She was expected to be his slave in all ways, or face punishment. Beauty made more money than the Beast ─ which he hated ─ but also expected her to work to support the household and his drug habit. A habit she was unaware of until he chose to reveal them.

  Intercourse was expected, sometimes several times, and the way they had sex had changed. He had dropped the preamble of caring for her pleasure and revealed sadistic tendencies she had no idea existed. Aside from drugs, the Beast was addicted to pornography. He favored brutality, strangulation, rape ─ any act that would shame her or cause her pain. It was the only way he could find his gratification.

  So, even though the Beast had smiled and agreed to all the doctor’s precautions, he honored none of them.

  Beauty worked forty hours a week on her feet, sometimes more. But she was expected to cook, clean, and wait on him hand and foot. The nights were the worst for her. She would be exhausted, but he expected to play with his toy, her, one way or another. Often, the play included violence. It was violence like Beauty had never experienced or even witnessed. The kind of thing that she could only imagine in nightmares.

  The Beast was clever with his abuse. He left no visible marks that could not be covered by clothing. He never touched Beauty’s lovely face. Spit in it, yes, screamed at it, squeezed it just hard enough to make a point ─ but never a mark that people could see. Her face was always left pristine to the world.

  He pulled her hair and dragged her by it. But he never yanked any of it out in a noticeable way. He favored kicking, which was quite painful since he also favored steel-toed boots. He enjoyed strangulation and expected that bruising to be covered. Punching and grabbing was always a go-to for the Beast.

  The human body can take hits in many places, and no one would know. In one particularly brutal attack, the Beast repeatedly kicked Beauty in her five-month pregnant stomach. She tried to protect her belly and took the hardest blows to her arms and knees. It took at least six weeks of long sleeve shirts to hide her healing wrists. She tended to all her own wounds.

  With each hit, she died a little inside. But the physical abuse was not the worst of her torture. No, the Beast reserved that for the bedroom. He raped her in so many ways and violated every part of her body. He could be creative in that area. When the doctor told him they couldn’t have intercourse, he took that as a green light to pay special care to other sexual acts. Her tears and pain only brought on his release and made it more intense. He basked in her pain and fed off it. He used bondage and instruments on her. He even had a strange fetish for her breast milk. Feeding from her like a child after torturing her into a state of numbness. This act was especially grotesque to Beauty. Every vile degradation of her body made her feel less of a person and more the Beast’s ultimate possession. She felt like a dead body or doll to him. The pregnancy, for him, was like a go-ahead sign to inflict pain on Beauty in every way possible.

  It was a thirty-seven-week boot camp of torture. Her body could only take so much. When Beauty was thirty-four weeks pregnant, the Beast became enraged while they were in the car. Beauty had become so numb to the pain and the world that his screams did not cause concern. It was nothing new. Not even when he leaned toward her. Not even when he opened her door. She only felt fear when he unsnapped her seat belt and sneered at her. She tried to stop him. They were driving slowly on a gravel road, what was he planning to do? These thoughts flitted through her mind a second before he pushed her from the moving vehicle. This was how Beauty learned the hard way that humans do bounce.

  As she rolled, she tried to cover her belly. Everything had happened so quickly, and she had not even caught her breath when the sharp, excruciating pain started. Then, there was the blood. She had blood on her. Was it from her injuries or was something wrong with the baby?

  Oh God, please let my baby be okay. She prayed with all her heart.

  His booted feet came into view. The Beast scooped her up in his arms and took Beauty to the hospital. She was surprised by this, the almost tender way in which he carried her. But that quickly faded when she realized that he had only done it because her injuries were not ones she could fix. People will have to help her.

  He charmed the hospital staff and played the distraught, worried man perfectly. He even shed tears. The Beast told the staff that Beauty had fallen off the porch and landed in gravel. The hospital staff never questioned this explanation. The truth would have been hard for anyone to even imagine.

  Beauty was so frightened and in so much pain. The doctors gave her medicines that made her tired and she vaguely remembered them saying they would need to send her to a larger hospital, one more equipped to handle her situation. She was so out of it, she did not realize that the hospital meant to life-flight her. When the life-flight crew arrived, all she could say was she got seasick. The Beast did all the talking for her. The crew gave her something for nausea and as she watched the liquid slowly creep up her IV she thought, “This is bad. Really bad. Please Lord, let my little girl be okay.”

  Beauty woke up once in her magical helicopter ride and told the crew, “OHHHH... LOOK AT ALL THE PRETTY LIGHTS!” The rest was just a blur, until the next morning when she awoke, still pregnant, with the Beast by her side.

  Every time someone walked into the room, he squeezed her hand painfully. This was his unspoken cue to keep her mouth shut or else. The doctors explained that she had pre-eclampsia. A disorder that affects a pregnant woman’s blood pressure, cause seizures, coma, and even death. It also made her retain fluid, and she blew up like the Blueberry girl from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory ─ fifty pounds in three days. This condition can be caused by stress. Naturally, the Beast blamed her work and family to deflect from his own actions. This condition meant Beauty needed to be off her feet and in the hospital, to safeguard the baby’s development before birth. The Beast used this as an excuse to be by her side at the expense of his job. Beauty suffered with this condition for three weeks. In that time, the Beast would leave Beauty only when his wicked mother or another family member
arrived to watch her. She thought it odd when she senses his eagerness to leave, but secretly cherished the time he was gone.

  She would find out years later that every day, he had gone to his father’s house and had slept with an old girlfriend who had no clue about Beauty.

  Every day, the nurses would come in and say, “No baby today.” On the day Beauty turned thirty-seven weeks pregnant, they came in and still said, “No baby today.” But when Beauty tried to make a simple trip to the bathroom, her blood pressure spiked. She felt dizzy, and the nurses rushed in. Yes, there would be a baby that day.

  The Beast was ecstatic.

  Beauty was terrified.

  The Beast spent all day calling family members and his friends, rallying them all to the hospital for the birth of his child. With each passing hour, Beauty’s terror increased. She was frightened for the birth. Frightened for her child, and worried about how the birth of the baby would change the dynamics of their situation. She prayed that if her love was not enough, maybe the baby’s would be. She prayed he would take one look at the little Princess’s angelic face and think, “How could I ever continue to hurt the mother of this angel?” Beauty prayed the baby would change everything.

  The baby had never turned in Beauty’s belly. That, combined with Beauty’s condition meant an emergency C-section was the only option for birth. Beauty wanted the Queen by her side. She wanted to hold her mother’s hand and feel her comfort in the face of her fear. But the Beast would not allow this. The Queen was devastated, as was Beauty. She hated to see the Beast hurting her mother, but she was paralyzed to do anything. The Beast’s word had somehow become law. He would be the only one at Beauty’s side during the fear, and he barely contained the glee on his face.

  All around them, people believed he was brimming with joy for the birth of his daughter. In reality, he was most excited to see Beauty cut open, and her insides removed. He whispered this fact into her ear as the doctors wheeled her into an operating room. She did not know they would remove her intestines and place them on her chest, and the Beast delighted in informing her of this fact. With each cut, tug, and pull, Beauty could imagine the delight in the Beast’s face. The blood and guts excited him.

  In that moment, as she watched his Beastly visage flicker beneath his gleeful mask, another piece of her died. He was taking everything from her. Every joy or happiness she had ever felt. The Beast was drawing it out of her soul with each cruel intention and act. Even on the one day in her life that should be most joyous.

  With a final yank and release of pressure, the tiny Princess came into the cruel and wicked world of the Beast. She was a tiny beacon of light for Beauty, sparking life back into Beauty’s soul. The Beast insisted on being the first to hold the Princess, and as Beauty looked upon the pair, she hoped to see love and light in the Beast’s eyes. She thought for a split second that something did flicker across his face. But it was not a father’s love. He was proud of his new possession. The ultimate possession because he had created it. The princess was not a person to the Beast. She was a tool. One more weapon of manipulation against Beauty.

  When the Beast finally handed the Princess to her and she held her tiny daughter in her arms, Beauty cried with joy. The first true joy she had ever felt in a long time. The little girl was the tinniest, most beautiful being Beauty had ever seen. She felt a love like no other and her heart filled with an instinct to protect and shield the Princess from the Monster lurking over them.

  Beauty met the Beast’s eyes with a defiance she would never have dared before. In his cold gaze, she saw no love for her or the child. Beauty saw only jealousy for the love she had for the Princess. She saw calculation and a simmering hatred.

  Beauty knew several facts at that moment: None of her prayers had been answered. There would be no changing the Beast. No amount of praying or love could turn a Monster into a man. Beauty was going to fight and escape the Beast. Because the most beautiful little Princess in the world had just given her back the will to live.

  Chapter 5

  There is no Camelot…

  SOMETHING HAD CHANGED in Beauty. Something had re-ignited and the Beast could sense it. From the moment they brought the little Princess home, the Beast began to adjust the manipulation tactics he used on Beauty. He tried to throw her off by acting kind. He was attentive to her and the baby. Old manipulations were back in place, but better this time. He tried to make his possessive nature feel like love.

  Even after four days after the Princess’s birth, Beauty still had very few memories of the time in the hospital. However, one memory was vivid. The Beast never let her or the Princess out of his sight. He even slept in the hospital bed with Beauty, placing the Princess between them. This went against all instructions by the medical personnel, but the Beast listened to no one. He lived to defy authority.

  He tried to persuade her that he was indeed changing because of the baby. She was not fooled. A transformation had happened inside when she had held her child. It was like the Princess was the key to unlocking that awful, charming mask, and the protective instincts that had lain dormant for a long time. Beauty only saw the Beast now and she began to predict his manipulations before he made them. Her life became a dangerous chess game.

  Each move he made, she countered. Her actions began to throw the Beast. It took three weeks before he forced himself on her sexually, but Beauty had been anticipating this action. She knew he would never wait for her to heal as the doctor instructed. So, when the time came, and he forced her to do his bidding, instead of crying in pain or lying there numb, she responded to him. She made the Beast believe she wanted his touch, which only confused him and made the act less gratifying.

  Beauty knew that she could never escape the Beast, but she could become someone he did not desire enough to torment. She rationalized that if the Beast grew bored with her, he would find another victim. Then, she and the Princess could be free.

  Beauty changed into something she was not. She lashed out at the Beast, broke his “rules” and a shift in power dynamics started to happen. The Beast started to react in different ways. He became quiet. The rape was less frequent which meant she had to pretend less often. Inside, Beauty delighted in thinking her plan was working. Her days were spent with her beautiful daughter, basking in the honeymoon of motherhood.

  The Princess was perfect. She never cried and slept through the night from the beginning. Beauty felt blessed in so many ways. The Beast was there, but Beauty ignored him, and he seemed to do the same. She believed her plan was working. She fell into a routine of trying to enjoy her happiness while pretending the Beast did not exist. For a little while, it worked. For a time, she found her own little piece of Camelot. But like all her joy, Beauty felt the Beast would take that from her as well, the first chance he gets.

  Two months passed before the Beast made his first move to break Beauty’s newfound will. While she was basking in her happiness, he had been busy plotting; biding his time and letting the jealousy and monstrous intentions grow inside him. His naïve, little Beauty had no idea of the plans he had for her... but she would soon.

  His interest in Beauty seemed to be waning, but the Beast always believed he could have whatever he wanted. Beauty and the Princess would always be his, even when he did not want to play with them. Even if he had other playthings to momentarily divert his attention. No stupid woman would ever best the Beast at his games. He felt it was time to call in a little assistance with his defiant Beauty and enlisted the help of his sister. It would spice things up to have his most trusted ally there to help him break his Beauty once again.

  His sister was, after all, quite good at one thing. Drama! She was the Queen of it. Naïve Beauty mistook his actions as change. How easily she had allowed the distraction of a child to make her forget.

  He waited months before he showed her his true face.

  Chapter 6

  Something wicked this way comes…

  WHEN BEAUTY’S SISTER-IN-LAW came to live w
ith them, Beauty thought that she would help deter some of the Beast’s angry outbursts. She seemed so nice and genuine. Apparently, manipulation was an inherited family trait. Beauty believed his sister would be a balm since he was always complaining about how far away his family was and how much he needed them. She had been so wrong to think of her as an ally. She quickly realized that Beast’s sister was just as wicked and cruel as he was. She was a mirror image of her Beastly brother and a true Drama Queen.

  Beauty began to suspect that he had acquired some of his cruel temperament from the vile sister. The more the Drama Queen spoke of the dysfunction of the Beast’s family, the more Beauty began to see how the monster had been molded. The Beastly sister was just as depraved as her brother. She told tales of their cold wicked mother who purposefully withheld love from her children. She said the woman had been a schizophrenic and was miserable with her husband. She delighted in telling Beauty how she and the Beast’s mother routinely cheated on her kind husband, with the man her mother truly loved. The Drama Queen would tell her pitiful tales of abandonment and mistreatment with an underlying pleasure. She spoke of their sexually confused father who enjoyed wearing women’s clothing and the company of men.

  Beauty had no issues with their father’s inclinations, but what bothered her were the tales of the father’s anger and abuse. The Drama Queen said neither she or the Beast could be blamed for their actions, because they had been made that way by their childhood. They had, after all, been the subject of a talk show focused on abuses and sexual dysfunctions.

  Just when Beauty thought she could not be any more shocked by these monsters, something new would come out. The Drama Queen proved to be exactly as her name indicated. Dramatic. Everything was a chore to her. Everything centered around her. She was like gasoline to the Beast’s raging fire.