You Were a Monster

 

(In preparation for the release of my Beauty and the Beast retelling, To Be Loved, I will be re-sharing old Beauty and the Beast posts. So if this post seems familiar to you, you've probably read it before.)

You were a monster. Maybe you'd been a monster for six weeks, but probably it was a year, or ten years, or two hundred years. Maybe you'd been a monster since you were born, or since you were a small child. Is it a relief, to be human again? Or is it shocking and unsettling? Do you find yourself always cold and miserable without your fur? Are you now in possession of too many or too few limbs? Have you lost the ability to fly? Has your vision or hearing or sense of smell changed? Are you glad to be human, or do you miss your old form? Is the ending of Beauty and the Beast some messed up body horror from the perspective of the beast?

You used to be a monster. The girl said she loved you, and you know she must have meant it, or the spell wouldn't have broken. But you still wonder. Does she love you? Does she really love you? Because she doesn't look at you the same. Maybe she was used to your old shape, and now that you're different she's being a little weird about it. Or maybe she said she loved you, before, but she's much more into you now that you're a hot dude. And either way, maybe it hurts a little. Because you couldn't help transforming, in either direction. And how you look changes how people react to you. You know that. You do. But this—this is Her. And you wonder.

Would she have broken the spell, if she'd known, or would she rather have kept you the way you were? Would she have avoided saying "I love you," just to keep you in the shape she loved? Will she stay, now that you're yourself, again? Does she still like you? Is she only here because she feels bad?

You wonder. You wonder. She said she loved you, but you can tell she loves you more, now that the spell is broken. So did she really love you? Or did she find out about the spell somehow? Was she in love with ugly, enchanted you, or in love with the idea of the handsome prince she knew you'd become? It's stupid, you tell yourself. She's with you now. She loves you now. But you're not used to being a handsome prince anymore. And the part of you that still feels like a monster, that part of you aches, because she said she loved you, but she obviously loves this handsome prince so much more. The fact that the handsome prince is also you doesn't make the rejection hurt any less.

You were a monster. You've been a monster for so long. You've been alone for so long. And now you're a handsome prince, and there are people everywhere. You wear silks, and you have responsibilities, and you don't know how to do this anymore. People talk, and talk, and talk, and your ears ache. They ask you about politics, and taxes, and parties, and you don't know. You've been the monster haunting the eastern estate since you were twelve; no one taught you about these things.

You're out on the lawn, your wife at your side, speaking with some foreign dignitary, and a rabbit runs past. You run after it, on your clumsy human legs, because that's what you've done, for the last ten years. That's how you've eaten. It's a habit. Your wife catches you, before you get far, because she understands. She knew you, and loved you, before you were this. Everyone looks at you both strangely, and she makes some excuse for you—she's always making excuses for you, because you don't know how to be a man.

You just want to go home. You want to curl up in your nest in the dark. But your home is gone, and your nest is gone, and even your dark is gone, everything much too bright through your new, human eyes.

You're a monster. You used to be a boy. You used to love a woman you called Mom, though you knew she wasn't really. She had been your babysitter for a very long time, so long you didn't really need a babysitter anymore. One day she told you she loved you, and you thought, of course you do, you're my mom. And then she stuck her hand down your pants, and it was all downhill from there.

You sit alone in your castle in your monster body, and you hate and you love your mom. You're alone, and afraid, and so, so hurt, and you want your mom to comfort you, but she can't, and she won't, because she's the one who put you here, and she'll never be your mom again.

A girl comes to the castle, and you know. You know this is your chance. You know that maybe she can break the spell. And you're so afraid. Because you loved your mom, and she betrayed you. You knew her your whole life, but you never really knew her at all. How can you know you know this girl? How can you ever trust her, or anyone?

She breaks the spell. And she looks at you differently, after. Everyone looks at you differently. Everyone looks at you. You've been safe and alone for so long. And the feeling of eyes on you makes your skin crawl, makes you long for the safety of your beast body. Your mom betrayed you in two ways, and the second way is over, now, but you can never forget the first betrayal, and sometimes, sometimes someone looks at you, and you know that you're handsome, and you know that they know it, too. And you wonder if that second betrayal was an apology, really. If it was a promise that no one would ever hurt you that way again. Because you were hurt, but you were safe. And you don't feel safe anymore. You love your wife, but sometimes you wish you could hide from even her eyes, wish you could retreat back into your teeth and fur.

You were a monster. You were a monster, and now you’re not. But it’s not easy. It’s not over. Your story is just beginning.

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