BEAUTY, THE BEAST

Addison Pomera was the most gorgeous junior at Madison High School and ‘beauty’ had no truer place than in reference to the young girl. She spent her evenings in a religious routine, prepping, preening, picking, pulling, plucking, until perfect. She rubbed her skin fresh with face wash, moisturizer, oils, serums- things that lined her bathroom mirror cabinet to near bursting point. Every morning Addison brushed her hair with one hundred strokes of her comb before picking from her ever-trendy closet outfits to showcase her minuscule waist and tan skin. 

At school, Addison batted her eyelashes far more than she passed her tests and listened closer to gossip than lessons. She promised unthinkable things to boys who practically pawed at her legs for attention and gracefully led a group of similarly pretty girls through the halls- though of course none could compare to Addison. There wasn’t a single classmate that didn’t know her name. The seniors even vied for her company when she talked about attending the senior prom in the spring. Teachers tended to turn blind eyes to her behavior and work- or lack thereof- due to the charm she sang toward them to the tune of praises and gratitude. In the world of Madison High- albeit in the world as a whole- it was wonderfully perfect to be as perfect as Addison Pomera. 

And in this world, nothing irked the young girl more than Savannah Badel. There was no crux to the hatred, no true point of instigation, it was as plain and simple as instant loathing. Perhaps, in a posthumous examination of the event, there was a level of disrespect that Addison felt in Savannah’s indifference. And yet the events, as they unraveled, revealed a rather different picture. It's true that the nub of this could be linked back to Mr. Westing, the history teacher at Madison High. In fact, Addison would blame all of this on him and his poor decision to pin the girls together in a group assignment.

“Could I possibly switch groups?” Addison asked when Savannah had already moved her desk. Her question was met with a simple shake of the head, which spun Addison’s attention to Savannah. She was a lowly girl, a quiet, soft-spoken, just-need-to-get-out-of-high-school girl with thick brown hair and wire-framed glasses. While Savannah had her own prettiness to her, no one in Madison High would admit it. 

“We don’t have to talk.” Savannah offered, “You can just have my answers.” “I can answer them.” 

The rest of the assignment continued on in much the same way, with Addison and Savannah sitting silently, Savannah working and Addison getting the answers wrong. “I heard she grew up on a farm and has to share her room with her brother.” “She has a brother?” Addison asked Ava as they switched out their books. “Yeah, some creep- he can’t even go to school here.” 

“Kelsey told me she saw her living out of a trailer park a couple of months ago,” Addison responded, “Which explains the way she dresses.” 

That night was when it started. In front of the mirror, while plucking a hair from her chin, Addison noticed a pimple on her forehead. Pimples were no match for Addison. She washed her face, popped it with Q-tips, and placed a $20 pimple patch over it before going to bed. However, in the morning, the patch hardly covered the small bump that had risen overnight. Addison tried yet again to pop it but when a greenish-yellow pus started to leak out, she gagged and covered it with her hair. All would be fine, it would be gone soon enough. And everything would’ve been fine and pimples forgotten had Savannah not shown up to school. But this Tuesday, the sheer sight of Savannah sent Addison into a fury.

Openly in homeroom, Addison spoke in a stage whisper to Ava about the possible ‘goings on’ in the bedroom Savannah shared with her brother, answering any questions from listening ears that surrounded the two friends. Then in Spanish, she twisted tales of Savannah’s past school and her need to transfer to Madison. So by history, Savannah could hardly raise her gaze to meet Addison’s lips, let alone her eyes. 

“I don’t believe any of the things everyone’s saying about you.” She had whispered. The routine started at around 8 PM. Addison would shut her bathroom door, put on some music, and start plucking anything that needed tending to. Then she’d move on to makeup removal, then hair oil, and so on. When she settled into her place before the mirror, she found that the bump had grown so large that it pushed her eyebrow down just slightly. Her back had broken out into a red rash of hives. She hyperventilated until her mother held her and told her that she was beautiful and for the first time in years, Addison went to bed without the rest of her routine. By morning, she could feel the hatred churning in her stomach like a bile boiling up her throat. She smiled at Savannah in the hall and even stopped by her locker. “You’ll never believe what I just heard.” She said in a tone that could be mistaken as jovial to those who didn’t know her ability to manipulate sarcasm. Savannah jumped at her presence and had to look about her to ensure that Addison was speaking to her. Addison continued on, “I never do this, and you really can’t tell him that I’m telling you,” She sighed and stepped closer to Savannah, “but Joey Malvern has a crush on you.” 

Addison searched Savannah’s face for some kind of reaction and smirked when the tiniest of smiles split the brunette’s face. 

“You can’t tell him, of course.” She added before walking off.

The rest of the day was pure bliss, watching Savannah smile in a fake high from hearing that a cute boy liked her. 

“That was mean.” Ava had laughed in Addison’s bathroom that night. 

“Oh shut up.” Addison stepped onto her bathroom scale. The number flashed and both girls had to look again. Ava didn’t say anything, just returned to her phone with a slight shift in her expression. 

“I must be getting my period.” Addison shot out quickly, an excuse for her weight gain. Her mother would have told her that gaining weight was natural and bodies needed nourishment, but weight gain at sixteen was world-altering. 

On her lonesome in the bathroom, nearing one that morning, Addison stared at herself in the mirror. She sat on the brim of the sink, feet in the bowl, staring at her face. She had been known to do this with an intention of admiration, but now… she found herself locked in a torturing staredown with her dirting complexion. The pimple on her forehead had spawned two friends with it. The rash on her back refused to die down, even after the ointment her doctor prescribed. Worse yet, her hair had started to thin and fall out. 

She wore a hoodie the next day and glared across the lunch tables at Savannah’s long brown hair that puffed from natural volume. Savannah had no idea that she had the same lunch period as Addison. It never crossed her mind to stare across the way. She ate lunch with her phone in hand and then left when the bell rang. In the crowd of students sheeping toward the door, never once did she spot the then wispy strawberry blonde hair of Addison. 

“I don’t want people to think I actually like her.” Joey had rubbed his neck while listening to Addison.

“No one will think that- they all know you- I just need you to do this one thing. Come on, it’ll be funny. Won’t it be funny, Ava?” Addison nudged her friend’s side and Ava let out some hesitant echo of agreement, “Come on.” 

“Fine.” Joey agreed. 

The pimples had started to pus on their own. It was disgusting really, watching the oily substance leak out onto her eyebrow and drip down her eye. It caused a slight irritation, making Addison look as if she had gotten pinkeye. 

“He asked me out.” Savannah had mumbled the next day in history class to an Addison who had hidden her complexion completely away under sweaters and hoodies and hats. “What?” 

“Joey.” 

“Oh.” Addison had utterly forgotten about Joey Malvern and the plan she schemed, “That’s great, when are you guys gonna…” 

“He said he’d come with me to the homecoming game.” 

“Great.” Addison smiled to herself. Perfect. 

The weight was not just her period, she had gained fifteen pounds in two weeks. She slunk into her bedroom when she got home, refused to eat dinner, and then slipped into her bathroom at night. Her plucking and pulling had reached grotesque highs. She accidentally caused flare-ups in her face, picked hairs until she bled, and cried until her eyes swelled. “Addison, honey.” Her mother called from the other side of the bathroom door one night, “What’s wrong? I wished you just talked to me.” 

But Addison had fallen into a terrible state, nearly unrecognizable to her own reflections, she had slumped to the floor, phone clutched in hand. She crafted an account under Joey’s name and requested to follow Savannah, which she readily accepted. The night soaked into the day and still Addison sat with her phone in hand. In school, Savannah could hardly lift her head from her screen to notice the way Addison watched her every reaction to the messages she sent. After a week, Joey asked Savannah out. After two weeks, ‘Joey’ had said he loved her and after three weeks Addison had gotten just what she was looking for. 

The image of Savannah loaded onto Addison’s phone. 

Any normal human would feel a twinge of pain or guilt or perhaps a shock to their system, but Addison- panged now by oily sweat, sagging skin, and an odor that penetrated even her thickest layer of perfume- smiled. It seemed with her beauty went any semblance of empathy and compassion. 

Soon enough the homecoming game had arrived. With the help of Ava, Addison had spread the news of Joey’s soon bait and switch. The bleacher-sat crowd watched the dirt path between the field and the seats with as much heated intensity as the game. Addison sat among them, draped in oversized clothing and smiling wildly as the quiet girl wandered out, sans glasses and smiling. She had tried to look nice and, without the haze of high school, she did. However, after many years of rejecting norms, the sudden attempt to conform sent a visible cringe through the crowd watching as the poor girl stood alone for two minutes. Three minutes. Five… 

And just as the night could not have gotten worse, when Savannah fought tears in front of everyone, the simultaneous dings of phones ringing went off. An image popped up on screens and questions of ‘Have you seen this’ whispered to one another. Almost instinctively, Savannah’s eyes trailed up to the cunning mastermind who stared down at her. Then a laugh. No, not from Addison, but another in the crowd. Then another and another, until the sound of the game was drowned out. 

Savannah scampered away, so fast she kicked up a thin cloud of dirt with every step. “Addison.” Ava had whispered through it all. Addison turned to her, wild-eyed and grinning from ear to ear, “Did you do this?” 

The sincerity in her tone left chills on Addison’s skin, a physical and open rejection of the friend’s words. 

“It’s funny.” Addison barked back, salivating. Her skin had turned a slate gray in her cheeks and on her forehead. Her eyes had glasses over and started to bulge out of their sockets. She was a terrifying thing. A grotesque existence and horror in the bleachers.  

Savannah didn’t show up to school the next day. Nor the day after. Addison’s rage only amplified with this- a corrupting, crackling black rage that broke her flesh with shades of red and led to a foaming at her mouth, which got her sent to the nurse’s office more than once. A need to feast on the sight of her victim much more than torment her online, an option no longer available after the game when Savannah blocked Addison’s Joey account. This anger was short-lived, however, as whispers whistled through hallways and into classrooms. Teachers began to lower their heads when told of Savannah’s absence. 

“Mrs. Pomera?” A detective had asked from their rainy porch. 

Addison’s mother had called her down, a sunken look on her face with eyes that searched for answers. 

“So have you ever met Savannah?” They asked, their previous announcement still hanging in the air. 

Dead. Gone. 

Addison could only bring herself to shake her head. She shrugged. 

“You told me you were friends.” Her mother hissed from the kitchen, clutching at her clothes to cover her body from her daughter’s air. 

Now, after all that had happened, Addison had become a poor impression of herself. A Picasso drawing of the belle she once was. Addison slouched in the grime of her self, her mother had to turn when her daughter looked at her. 

“We’ll keep in touch.” The detectives had said upon leaving. 

As she had every night, though this time more than ever, Addison felt… wrong. Dirty even. She sobbed, sitting in the dining room chair while her mother watched. Savannah hadn’t crossed her mind- just the thought of how her actions would reap punishment for the conniving pretty girl. 

“Mom-” Addison heaved out the words with much effort. 

“That was someone’s daughter, Addy.” 

“Mom-” Addison reached out to her mother weakly, grasping at air as her mother side-stepped her advances. The actions only led to Addison falling to the floor in a full tantrum. She screamed after her mother while her mother ascended the stairs and joined the darkness of the master bedroom. 

Addison peeled herself off the floor and climbed the steps on her hands and knees. Even Savannah couldn’t keep her from the bathroom mirror. She slithered into the white tiled room, yet the reflection that stared back brought to life the evilness of her deeds. 

A vile consumption of form- one of totality- leaving nothing of Addison behind yet bringing, in full swing, the truest form of the girl. Layers of flesh, molding over into a gray slate hue, folded and blubbered until the skin tore with stretch marks. Her eyes sunk into her skull, her teeth rotted and her tongue swelled til near choking point for the teen girl who stumbled over and collapsed from the newfound weight on her bones. She reached out a fleshy hand, starting to bubble with boils and clawed her way across the tile floor. Her new body pussed with a layer of sweat from the exertion she put forward and she wailed out into the darkened hallway, lit only by the buzzing bulbs of the bathroom. 

“M-m-mmmaaaa-” Her voice came out through sobs and filtered through a deep guttural tone. Tears shed from her eyes, splattered on the floor, and mixed with her skin as she continued to crawl. She trembled, though the naked eye would be unable to tell, as she wept. Mirrors only caught glimpses- afraid themselves to look fully- of the thing she had become. Drool dripped from her mouth, the saliva pooling in her bottom lip and leaking onto the floor. “Maaaaa-mmm!” She howled once more. 

To a horrific sight, her parents’ bedroom door opened and a shrieking hiss her mother let out to the vision of a monster that once was her daughter. Beauty rotted. Delicacy devoured. Heart heavy, shown afresh the unbearable site of Addison Pomera. Beauty, the beast she was.

by Cole Hediger

Cole Hediger is a writer based in Philadelphia. Their work has been published in Sunstroke Magazine, Fever Dream Magazine, Roadrunner Review, Oakland Review of the Arts, Lumina Journal, Bookstr, Young Hollywood, and Vast Chasm Literary Magazine. Their scripts have also been accepted into the Phoenixville Film Festival, Diabolical Horror Film Festival, Renegade Film Festival, Independent Horror Movie Awards, and East Village New York Film Festival.  Cole can be found here: https://writercolehediger.wixsite.com/cole-hediger