"Can you bloody turn that down? I have a beastly migraine," I roar, hoping Amparo can actually friggin' hear me over the racket of the vacuum cleaner in the corridor.
The noise doesn't subside.
Argh.
I jump out of the bed, swearing, shielding my eyes from the bright light.
"Stupid, stupid sunlight." I reach for the blinds, and even if I pull them down just the slightest, they fall off completely.
"Shit, shit, shit." I stare at the remains of the shutters in my hands and...
My three inch long nails.
Amparo leans her head into the bedroom.
"Señorita Bea, ¿necesita ayuda?"
"I damn right necesito ayuda! The blinds are destroyed, the sun is killing me, and I turned into Freddy Krueger over here." I sit on the bed which creaks threateningly under my muscle mass.
"Here, let me," señora Amparo whispers kindly, pulling the dark curtains over the stained window glass and I let out a sigh of relief. She presses her cool hand against my forehead, but it does very little to alleviate my headache.
"Do we have any medicine?" I grunt, still not forgiving her the fact she knows something about me and my "condition," but refuses to tell me about it yet.
"Try the left cabinet, bottom shelf, señorita." She is already vigorously employing nail clippers on me.
"Thanks," I murmur sulkily.
When she's done and I can finally move my fucking fingers, I rummage around the indicated drawers. What I find is some generic shit like Advil, but I guess even that will work better than nothing. I swallow it down with a gulp of water and a biscuit from the pack on my nightstand.
"Bloody hell," I mutter through the mouthful of biscuit as I catch my reflection in the mirror.
It's very akin to watching a train wreck in slow motion.
Those unnatural golden brown, huge wide-set eyes.
Those predatory canines that tell me, all smeagol-like, "You better give us something raw and wriggling to sink ourselves in."
That hair—twice the length, all shaggy, smelly and dirty, filled with clumps of earth, tiny stones, and tree branches.
But the worst part are those cursed pointed ears jutting out of it, turning left and right at the smallest sound like a darned weathervane.
Those two rose-shaped ruby earrings glimmering on them.
Mocking me.
I pull on them with all my might, not caring if I might remove my earlobes in the process as well.
But they won't budge.
They won't budge, and I'm enslaved, just in a different way than my parents had planned for me.
And I can't even figure out what's blasted wrong with me!
I roar in anger and slam my fist against the mirror, hating who I see staring back reflected at me.
It doesn't help at all, because now, apart from my ears, nose, and feet, my hands are also bleeding.
And the mirror image has multiplied into dozens of monstrous Bea's.
My next move is to smash my Samsung flipped phone against the bedroom wall, and cower in the corner, tears streaming down my stupid beastly face.
"Your parents..." señora Amparo whispers with care. "They prepared some more phones for you just in case."
YOU ARE READING
Once Upon a You | A Beauty and the Beast Retelling ✔️
Paranormal| 8𝘅 𝗙𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘𝗗 · A YA Beauty and the Beast gender-swapped retelling. Bit of a Stranger Things vibe going on, too! Life was going mega well for Beatrice-Bea Laurent, a soon-to-be 18-year-old certified Insta star slash posh gal. She was spen...
