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tamingthemuseTitle: Beast Within
Fandom: Being Human
Rating: PG-13 (Light description of gore)
Prompt: 173 - Predatory & Nov. Challenge - 2nd POV
Summary: Sometimes the beast takes over and you can't control it.
Note: I've never used 2nd POV before, so hopefully this turned out alright. It was a great exercise in learning a new skill though.
You watch from the wall as the people muddle about. The day is getting late and the crowds less active. They’re sluggish, bored, tamed. They would be scared if they really knew what was lurking in the halls of this unsuspecting hospital.
The smell of disinfectant burns your nose. You’re sense of smell is so much better than it was when you were human. It’s gotten better lately, startlingly so. Can’t even walk into the grocery store without getting bombarded by so many fragrances it gives you an instant headache. You’re noticing the scent of people, mostly the embarrassingly intimate smells.
You hear a siren outside and know someone new is coming in. Someone highly injured it would seem by the squeal of tires as the ambulance braces to a stop. Their was rushed voices and even though they are a dozen or more meters away you can smell blood.
It’s metallic and amazing. Your blood sings and your body responds, growing taut and coiled like a snake ready to strike. You demand calm, demand control, but you’re instincts call for blood.
The wheels of the gurney squeak as they round the corner and then slam the entrance doors open. You can’t see him yet, this nameless victim, but he’s coming. The smell is getting stronger and you’re desire to attack is getting thick, fogging the air with it’s primitive aura.
Doctors are shouting. Nurses are grabbing things and running along side the cart. The lethargic masses part thoughtless, only glancing at the carnage before going back on their memorizes routes. The poor sufferer is screaming out his agony and fighting against the doctors, against the pain.
You don’t see any of this. You’re hyper focused on the injuries. His leg his completely torn up, staining his shift bandages. There is a gash on his side as well, part of his skin already peeled back and the beautifully red elixir of life dripping from it. You’re hungry, completely starving now. You’ve want nothing more then to put your face down into that mess of flesh and feed.
As the commotion passes you fallow. He’d unable to walk or fight, you silently calculate, he’s completely weak, but the doctors around him might have a problem with your sudden cannibalism. You’re thinking of ways to get him away from them. Some way to lock yourself in a room safe with your meal and feed off of every last inch of him. Your tongue comes out and licks your lips, mouth full of saliva.
You’re stalking him. Trying not to get noticed, get caught. Staying three feet in the distance. Just another bystander going the same way as the blood droplets, but with no purpose. They can’t know. They won’t understand the hunger that consumes you.
“George!” you hear a cry, but don’t turn. You keep going, barely recognizing the name. Solely focused on your prey.
“George!” comes another cry then a hand on your chest. You’re first instinct is to fight. Another predator trying to get your feast, never. Then you met the man’s eyes and the world defogs. Mitchell is standing in front of you with a look of concern and dismay across his features.
“What’s going on?” he asked taking his hand away then glancing back. He knows, you’re sure of it, he knows exactly what’s going on. Shame coats you and you cross your arms across your chest. You’d been hunting another human being. Oh god.
A wall seems like a safe place to lean against so you stumble to it, ignoring the pain as you hit it harder then you meant too. Tears have sprung in your eyes and you do your best to control them.
“Come on,” Mitchell says grabbing you by the arm and pulling you into a storeroom. He closes the door behind him and you find yourself sitting on some old bucket. You’re not even sure how you got there.
“You alright?” Mitchell asks putting a hand on your back.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” you say ignoring the weakness in your voice. It’s not time to be worried with appearances. Now is a very good time to break down. What the hell happened in there? What the hell was that? Had you really almost eaten someone? Had you really considered taking a patient into a private room and feasting. Oh god, what have you become?
“It’s okay. I’ve heard of this. Night before the full moon sometimes the beast gets out a little early, but only mentally,” Mitchell says like it explains and cures everything.
“So this could happen again?” you asked almost whimpering this time.
“I’ll teach you to control it,” Mitchell tells you and something snaps in your brain like two blocks being put together.
“This is how you feel all the time,” you say, but it’s not a question. You know it. You understand the hunger, the need to hunt, the very desire when seeing the blood and gore. How can he be so calm? Live resisting it every day. You’ve never felt more respect for him then you do right now or more fear.
“Sometimes. It gets dull and then stronger then back again. It’s something I’ve gotten used to,” Mitchell says with honesty in his face and his hand on the back of your head.
Your eyes met his and there is an understanding that comes between you. Like when you first realized you weren’t the only monster in England, only this one holds more trust and mutual respect. He knows you understand now and you do. Because it’s still there this burning in your stomach to go after the meal. You want to find the room he’s in and finish him off, show him mercy by devouring him. Better calories in your stomach then a morphine gulping recovering patient. You have to clamp down on the wolf, use reason and emotions to quell this desire.
“I don’t know how you live with it.”
“You learn. I’ll teach you,” Mitchell says and then pulls you close, hugging you as you realize you’ve started to cry, “We can do this George. We’re still human under all of this. And part of being human is struggling and overcoming.”
You wish you believed him fully, but you get the sense that he doesn’t believe it all. A beast lies inside of you and you’re not sure how long you can control it, neither does he. But you both try, because giving up, means giving in. You don’t want to loose yourself or loose him. You’re family now, born again in different ways, but brothers in the fight against yourself.
Fandom: Being Human
Rating: PG-13 (Light description of gore)
Prompt: 173 - Predatory & Nov. Challenge - 2nd POV
Summary: Sometimes the beast takes over and you can't control it.
Note: I've never used 2nd POV before, so hopefully this turned out alright. It was a great exercise in learning a new skill though.
You watch from the wall as the people muddle about. The day is getting late and the crowds less active. They’re sluggish, bored, tamed. They would be scared if they really knew what was lurking in the halls of this unsuspecting hospital.
The smell of disinfectant burns your nose. You’re sense of smell is so much better than it was when you were human. It’s gotten better lately, startlingly so. Can’t even walk into the grocery store without getting bombarded by so many fragrances it gives you an instant headache. You’re noticing the scent of people, mostly the embarrassingly intimate smells.
You hear a siren outside and know someone new is coming in. Someone highly injured it would seem by the squeal of tires as the ambulance braces to a stop. Their was rushed voices and even though they are a dozen or more meters away you can smell blood.
It’s metallic and amazing. Your blood sings and your body responds, growing taut and coiled like a snake ready to strike. You demand calm, demand control, but you’re instincts call for blood.
The wheels of the gurney squeak as they round the corner and then slam the entrance doors open. You can’t see him yet, this nameless victim, but he’s coming. The smell is getting stronger and you’re desire to attack is getting thick, fogging the air with it’s primitive aura.
Doctors are shouting. Nurses are grabbing things and running along side the cart. The lethargic masses part thoughtless, only glancing at the carnage before going back on their memorizes routes. The poor sufferer is screaming out his agony and fighting against the doctors, against the pain.
You don’t see any of this. You’re hyper focused on the injuries. His leg his completely torn up, staining his shift bandages. There is a gash on his side as well, part of his skin already peeled back and the beautifully red elixir of life dripping from it. You’re hungry, completely starving now. You’ve want nothing more then to put your face down into that mess of flesh and feed.
As the commotion passes you fallow. He’d unable to walk or fight, you silently calculate, he’s completely weak, but the doctors around him might have a problem with your sudden cannibalism. You’re thinking of ways to get him away from them. Some way to lock yourself in a room safe with your meal and feed off of every last inch of him. Your tongue comes out and licks your lips, mouth full of saliva.
You’re stalking him. Trying not to get noticed, get caught. Staying three feet in the distance. Just another bystander going the same way as the blood droplets, but with no purpose. They can’t know. They won’t understand the hunger that consumes you.
“George!” you hear a cry, but don’t turn. You keep going, barely recognizing the name. Solely focused on your prey.
“George!” comes another cry then a hand on your chest. You’re first instinct is to fight. Another predator trying to get your feast, never. Then you met the man’s eyes and the world defogs. Mitchell is standing in front of you with a look of concern and dismay across his features.
“What’s going on?” he asked taking his hand away then glancing back. He knows, you’re sure of it, he knows exactly what’s going on. Shame coats you and you cross your arms across your chest. You’d been hunting another human being. Oh god.
A wall seems like a safe place to lean against so you stumble to it, ignoring the pain as you hit it harder then you meant too. Tears have sprung in your eyes and you do your best to control them.
“Come on,” Mitchell says grabbing you by the arm and pulling you into a storeroom. He closes the door behind him and you find yourself sitting on some old bucket. You’re not even sure how you got there.
“You alright?” Mitchell asks putting a hand on your back.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” you say ignoring the weakness in your voice. It’s not time to be worried with appearances. Now is a very good time to break down. What the hell happened in there? What the hell was that? Had you really almost eaten someone? Had you really considered taking a patient into a private room and feasting. Oh god, what have you become?
“It’s okay. I’ve heard of this. Night before the full moon sometimes the beast gets out a little early, but only mentally,” Mitchell says like it explains and cures everything.
“So this could happen again?” you asked almost whimpering this time.
“I’ll teach you to control it,” Mitchell tells you and something snaps in your brain like two blocks being put together.
“This is how you feel all the time,” you say, but it’s not a question. You know it. You understand the hunger, the need to hunt, the very desire when seeing the blood and gore. How can he be so calm? Live resisting it every day. You’ve never felt more respect for him then you do right now or more fear.
“Sometimes. It gets dull and then stronger then back again. It’s something I’ve gotten used to,” Mitchell says with honesty in his face and his hand on the back of your head.
Your eyes met his and there is an understanding that comes between you. Like when you first realized you weren’t the only monster in England, only this one holds more trust and mutual respect. He knows you understand now and you do. Because it’s still there this burning in your stomach to go after the meal. You want to find the room he’s in and finish him off, show him mercy by devouring him. Better calories in your stomach then a morphine gulping recovering patient. You have to clamp down on the wolf, use reason and emotions to quell this desire.
“I don’t know how you live with it.”
“You learn. I’ll teach you,” Mitchell says and then pulls you close, hugging you as you realize you’ve started to cry, “We can do this George. We’re still human under all of this. And part of being human is struggling and overcoming.”
You wish you believed him fully, but you get the sense that he doesn’t believe it all. A beast lies inside of you and you’re not sure how long you can control it, neither does he. But you both try, because giving up, means giving in. You don’t want to loose yourself or loose him. You’re family now, born again in different ways, but brothers in the fight against yourself.
