Beauty and the Beast

Ryan's POV

Some sadist bent on my torture and death was hammering nails into my brain.
“Holy Mary Mother of God, pray for us sinners.”
I woke up with the mother of all headaches. My brain felt like it had swollen twice its size and was now trying to dig its way past my skull to get some fresh air. The pain I was in yesterday was a pathetic mockery of the intense agony I was currently experiencing.
“Advil. Now.” I groaned when I touched the back of my head. “No, screw that. I want morphine. Lots and lots of morphine.” I hadn’t opened my eyes, yet. I was too chicken to try. I’m dying. This is what dying feels like.
My eyes were scrunched shut, like the coward I was, against the Devil’s blinding light I knew was shining through my window.
“Good morning, Master Ryan.” I heard Mrs. Angela call from the doorway. “Can we come in?”
“Who is we?” I asked, feeling foolish when my voice squeaked.
“Lennie and I.”
“Oh. Yeah.” I sat up; my eyes still scrunched shut, and jumped when something was laid on my lap.
“Your breakfast, Monsieur.” Lennie said.
Oh, God. The sickeningly sweet odors were coating my nose and mouth, and I fought down the urge to hurl.
“Is everything alright, Master?” Mrs. Angela asked, from some corner of my room.
“I’m dying.”
There was a long pause. “Are you?”
“Yes! Or I’m already dead. Yes, that’s probably it. I died last night, and this is my own personal hell.”
“Is your head bothering you?”
My eyes still squeezed tightly shut I turned in the direction of her voice. “Bothering me? Try its torturing me. It is committing suicide in an attempt to kill me. Its on this new masochistic trend, hurting itself so I suffer.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
Figures. I’m dying, and the woman questions me.
“Did you forget that I was almost ran over by a semi truck, not ten hours ago? Did it slip your mind that my head made contact with this alien substance called CONCRETE?”
“Good heavens! I did forget! No, need to yell, though Master. Advil. Water. Light breakfast. Lennie, take that breakfast back and get some fruit and un-buttered toast. A glass of water, too! Please.” She added.
“Oui.” I heard Lennie leave.
I opened my eyes, just a bit, just as ungodly bright light filled the room, burning my eyelids permanently to my eyeballs.
I will go to the grave denying that the noise that just came out of me was anywhere near a girlish squeal.
“Mrs. Angela!” I yelled.
“Shouldn’t have opened your eyes!”
“What eyes? I don’t have eyes anymore. They were incinerated. They are nothing but a pile of ash.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
I groaned again, my head throbbing in sympathy, or maybe in apathy. Probably just out of spite.
God, and I have to go to school with this monstrous affliction. I pulled my pillow over my head, in a pathetic attempt to block out all that light. “Sweet Baby Jesus, just kill me now.”
“OK.” Mrs. Angela chirped cheerfully above as she pushed the pillow down in my face. I squawked into the pillow, my arms flapped wildly as the pillow went into my mouth.
She was laughing as she pulled the pillow off my face.
“That wasn’t funny.”
“On the contrary, I found it quite amusing.” But she patted my head in apology. “Now, go get in the shower while Lennie is getting your breakfast—“
“Drugs.” I interrupted, rolling out of my bed. I grabbed the nearest shirt among the many strewn around my room, and snagged the pair of jeans hanging precariously on my windowsill.
“Yes, Master. And your medicine.”
“Morphine.” I muttered to myself as I stumbled to my bathroom. I wonder how Isabelle is feeling. I hoped she was faring better than me. I smiled at the thought of her. And it worried me just a smidgen that a mere thought of her could bring a smile to my face.
I. Am. Pathetic.
I sighed in relief at the dimness of the room. I went over and turned on my shower.
While I waited for the water to get warmer, I studied myself in the mirror.
I was suddenly really embarrassed with my appearance.
My long hair was greasy looking and dull. My beard was thick and covered half my face.
I shuddered.
And looked away, unable to look at the cruel reality looking back at me a second longer.
No wonder people avoid me like the plague. It’s because I rival someone who survived the bubonic affliction, and add the somewhat less than sunny disposition….
Yeah, you get the picture.
“MASTER RYAN, WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?” I jumped at Mrs. Angela’s loud, reverberating screech.
“SHOWERING WOMAN!” I yelled back, and jumped in before she could call my bluff. How disgustingly horrible would it be if she came in here, yelling at me, while I was butt naked.
Let’s not even contemplate that.

I made it to school. It was a long, dirty fight, but alas, I made it. With a couple pills of aspirin sitting happily in my stomach, and the beauteous medicine finally working, I was able to hop right out of the car, and into the frontlines.
Despite the heavy ache the medicine wasn’t able to banish, I was eager to get to school. To see her. To see Isabelle. To see her smile, to hear her laugh.
It was just a double-edged sword that I had to come to this hell to see her. She was an angel among demons. M
Dear Mother of God help me.
I had just turned the corner when Isabelle walked into view. God. I had thought I had imagined her somewhat. That she couldn’t possibly be as perfect as I remembered. But there she was, an angel. A dream that was too perfect to be true, but was staring you right in the face. Maybe I got hit harder in the head than I thought. I made a mental note to see a doctor, psychiatrist, or just skip all that and check myself into a mental hospital in the near future. As we walked closer, I realized her face was different. Something had changed.
She was frowning, and I found myself walking faster to get to her, to see what was wrong. In response, she sped up as well, and soon we were running. Barely breathing, I stopped in front of her, and reached for her.
“Ryan…” She said as she grasped my arm. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”
“What’s wrong? Are you OK?” I was concerned, worried even for this girl. A girl I had just met yesterday, a girl I had fallen in love with, at first sight. Oh, God. Filing that thought under “When Hell Freezes Over.” Remember Tier, you’re nothing but a beast, a pitiful excuse for a human being, and not deserving of someone so perfect….
“My dad,” She started, pulling me out of my self-disgust. Her beautiful, brown eyes misted over a bit, and guilt was practically rolling off her in droves. “He has to go to Japan… for an Invention Convention. And I don’t have anywhere else to stay… I’m sorry… I have to go with him.”