AN: Written for a challenge on SAYS (JLHufflepuff's Remus challenge). I don't know...I quite like this one...hope you do too!
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Remus waits for the Beast to wake in him.
There is a small sliver of sky which he can see from a hole in the roof, and the moon seems to be falling through it. He knows it won't be long now.
The pain is there – horrifying torment, like being submerged in boiling water – burning through his body in one long endless stream. Tears streak down his face, but he keeps his mouth shut, lips white over his teeth, blue eyes almost black with agony.
He will not scream. Not yet. He has experienced this for so long now that it is almost possible for him to block himself into a part of his mind away from the pain, and he can wait for it to end.
Remus shudders involuntarily, the whites of his eyes showing, bloodshot, as his eyes roll back into his head. Not long now.
A cloud passes over the moon, temporary relief. He subsides and then convulses again as the moon slides into the room, mocking him. So much pain, he almost wishes the Beast here so that it can begin and end.
He imagines a clock in place of a real one, ticking away the seconds of his sanity. These are the seconds of your life, says the clock, watch yourself waste them. Tick, tick; no watch, no clock, his second hand is the bone in his jaw.
And then pain, more pain, as the Beast scrabbles for a hold on Remus, pulling itself out of the dark corner of Remus where it can be banished for a part of the month – pulling, pushing, tearing and ripping its way free. Soon it will have total control and it will be Remus who is banished, and the Beast is all now.
Remus must sit in the dark corner and watch as the Beast rips his body apart, feels skin tear, hair push out, tail like wire, teeth like iron; cruel and already dripping with blood, Remus' blood, that the Beast has managed to tear from Remus' flesh.
I was whole before you, Remus tells the Beast, but the Beast does not care for Remus' sorrow, all he feels is a monstrous desire to destroy.
The Beast hurls itself at the walls, and Remus feels every shudder of pain and horror, but is no longer in control. He can do nothing. He is the receiver. He receives the pain, receives the confusion, receives the feelings – all feelings – that the Beast cannot know.
The Beast does not feel as it tears Remus' flesh with its teeth; the Beast does not feel anything but destruction, a lust for devastation. And anger – so much anger burns in the Beast, so much that sometimes Remus is unsure as to whether or not some is actually his.
He has plenty to be angry about. For Remus can only watch as the Beast destroys, and howl with it when the Beast cries of it's pain and anger. He is helpless – a puppet in the Beast's claws; and the Beast writes Remus' movements, choreographs his life story, paints his suffering.
The Beast rules in these moments and Remus knows that even when it has been banished to it's dark corner once again, it will only rise up later, ready as ever to feed and destroy.
And Remus will have to step aside; will have to sacrifice his control because he doesn't have a choice, because no matter how hard he fights, the Beast will always have his way.
Not long now.
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AN: So? What do you think? Please review!