I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.
And let me tell you, my partner writer, DinahRay, is knocking it out of the park!
Beauty and the Beast: A FreakShow Fairytale
A Better Wolf
In Ethel Darling's caravan the next morning, Angelica Mayweather rolls her eyes.
"You've got a lot to say about an act you didn't think should be in the show in the first place."
The bearded woman raps her knuckles lightly on the top of the girl's tousled head.
Michael straightens up, leans forward. On alert.
Angelica smiles, and his shoulders relax. But his eyes stay on Ethel.
Just in case.
"Smart mouth." The bearded woman cups an affectionate hand around Angelica's pointed chin. "You did great."
She cuts her eyes toward the silent boy seated beside Angelica at the small dining table.
"Both of you did. Not denyin' it, not one bit. You took what you had and you made it somethin' the rubes would pay to see. I'm proud of you both for that. But now it's time for embellishin'. Fancyin' things up a bit. I know what I'm doin'. Been puttin' on a show way longer than you've been alive, ya know."
She gestures toward the bowls of tapioca in front of them. "Eat up, the both of you. We got work to do before this evenin'."
That night, Michael stands onstage, inside the covered cage, listening again to Ethel's dramatic spiel.
Feeling wrong.
Feeling afraid.
Before the first time, he listened to Angelica.
Understood what she wanted him to do.
Understood why.
So he could "earn his keep".
So he could stay.
And he decided easily that staying with Angelica was well worth a brief time with the eyes of the crowd on him.
Well worth showing them what they wanted to see.
A wild animal.
And when she stepped into the cage, it wasn't hard to run to her.
Reach for her.
Let her bring him to his knees.
If he hadn't been so nervous about the people watching, it might have even been a little fun.
Like their practices were.
Chasing and growling and trying not to laugh.
He was himself, beside Angelica.
And pretending to be an animal didn't matter, because she knew what he truly was.
He was himself.
He was real.
But now Ethel has "embellished" him.
Filed his nails into points. Into claws.
Glued hair, trimmed from the troupe's brown nanny goat, to his face and his chest. To the backs of his hands and the tops of his bare feet. He feels ridiculous.
And it itches.
And then the striped canvas drops away.
The spotlight is blinding.
Angelica steps inside the cage. He throws back his head, and howls.
And charges.
Like all the times they practiced, like onstage the night before, she feints left but spins right. And he grabs.
But this time, instead of just missing her, his newly-sharpened nails slice her open from wrist to elbow.
Her gasp is as loud as a scream in his ears. He reaches for her, shocked and terrified at what he's done.
She pushes him away, hard. Presses her hand over the bleeding wound and goes on with the act.
At the end, she presses the injured arm against her side so she can raise her other hand in triumph.
Michael lies still on the floor.
As soon as the curtain closes, Paul is inside the cage, helping her out, as Eve waits to attend to the wound. They pull her away before she can whisper that she knows he didn't mean to.
They won't let her go until she's cleaned up and bandaged.
It takes her a good long while after that to find him.
He's lying in the tall grass, well away from the tents. Curled in on himself.
"Michael," she whispers in obvious relief, dropping to her knees beside him.
She strokes at his hair, and he whimpers. Sits up and clutches at her uninjured arm.
"I'm sorry," he chokes.
"It was an accident. I know you didn't mean to. I'm fine, it's just a scratch."
He touches the gauze, light and tentative. "I'm sorry."
It's then that she notices there is blood on his hands. Caked beneath what remains of his nails, cut brutally short.
"What did you do to yourself?" she asks.
"I cut them off," he answers. "I hurt you."
"Michael-"
"I can't hurt you."
He clutches at her hands, holds tight. "I can't. I won't ."
"Okay," she answers softly, squeezing his fingers. "And Michael … I'm sorry. I hurt you. I never should have let anybody change you."
She sighs, and pushes her hair back, tucks it behind her ear. "I should never have made you do this whole thing. I didn't really ask you if you wanted to be onstage, did I? We can go back to just helping out like we were before, and not do this anymore."
Michael smiles.
"You didn't make me. And I'm a better wolf that I am a carpenter," he says. "And safer. Wolves don't throw hammers. I want to do our act. With you. But no more Ethel stuff."
Angelica dimples. Pumps their entwined hands.
"Shake on it. No more claws. No more hair. Just our way."
"Our way," he agrees. "Just us."
Hello, all! Can you believe the nail thing?! *shudders* Dang, DinahRay, you are good!
And thanks to midnightrebellion86, Bumblebee93, and anonymouscsifan for your reviews. Seriously, isn't she great?!
Thanks as well to Gemini-tigress and AllAwesomeness (okay, love the penname!) for adding your support to this story.
Okay, see you next time! :D
