American Monster

Every hero has an origin story where he slays the monsters and gets the girl. Mine is a cautionary tale. I am the monster, and I watch the woman I love die over and over again. I was born an orphan and a legend with my first breath. My silver spoon was replaced with an iron blade, and my wealth with a bounty on my head. I lived in the shadows, lurking amongst the bastards and the beggars with no moral compass to guide me as I stumbled through life, carrying the heavy burden of my past in secrecy. The few who dared to speak my name knew me as Justus Beiste – just beast. I was untamable and bowed to no man or God, ruled only by my desires. But the one thing I craved most, I could never have, for fear she too would fall victim to my curse. This isn’t a love story. This is a tragedy played out in endless acts, spanning countless lives. Still, I would follow her across centuries, my soul tethered to hers, protecting her from those who came before us, until I succumbed to bloodlust and broke our ties or bonded us together forever.