Bella, you are a mystery to me.
I have always wondered when you were going to realize that our life is not a fairy tale.
You are the wonderful, kind-hearted beauty. I am the beast, horrible and selfish.
But no rose wilts, no sickly father beckons. Why does she return? Again and again, she returns to the castle of cobwebs - my hopes spun fine as spider silk. A single touch and it all falls away.
No curse – besides the obvious – binds me.
Loving me will not save me.
Or will it?
Beauty, I am your Beast. Your nightmare awaits.
I do not own Twilight.
AN: This was from a fairytale prompt long ago. Let me know what you think.