About “The Beast in Me” in a few words:

The Beast in Me (2025) is a psychological thriller miniseries on Netflix. It centers on Aggie Wiggs, a famous author haunted by the death of her young son, whose life turns upside down when her new neighbor, Nile Jarvis, a wealthy real-estate mogul suspected of murder, moves in. As she gets drawn into his secrets, she must decide just how much of the truth she’s willing to uncover.

Meet the characters from The Beast in Me

Aggie Wiggs

Aggie is that warm, stubborn heart of the town who somehow knows everyone’s business and forgives them anyway. She runs the little shop/library/whatever-it-is on Main Street with a ruler in one hand and a cookie in the other, and she gives the best terrible advice you’ll ever follow. Quietly fierce, endlessly nosy, and unashamedly sentimental — she cries at weddings and at broken teapots like they’re the same thing. Also, she insists she never sings but hums show tunes at 3 a.m., and keeps a mysterious jar of buttons on her dresser for reasons she swears are “practical.”

Nile Jarvis

Nile is the brooding, complicated type who looks like he stepped out of a storm and into a book about storms — smoldering but oddly soft around the edges. He hoards secrets like other people hoard coins, speaks in clipped sentences, and has this weird hero energy where he tries not to help and then rescues you anyway. Loves chaos in theory but plans everything like a chess player, which makes him infuriating and reliable at the same time. He collects matchbooks, writes tiny terrible haikus in the margins of receipts, and somehow always smells faintly of motor oil even though he claims he doesn’t own a thing with an engine.

Nina Jarvis

Nina is sharp, relentless, and secretly kind in ways she labels “practical compassion” — she runs a clinic/office/chaotic rescue and operates like a warm-handed general. She’ll lecture you on boundaries and then bring you soup, which is both maddening and comforting, and she has that dry wit that can slice through nonsense. She says she hates rules but then drafts five-page schedules and enforces them with a smile that’s half pity, half pride. Oh, and she owns a parrot that swears more convincingly than any ex and wears mismatched shoes because “it keeps life interesting,” which is probably a lie but also maybe not.

Shelley

Shelley is the wild card — loud, bright, and a little unpredictable, with this spark that makes every scene feel like a dare. She’s the friend who shows up with a ridiculous plan and somehow makes it work (or at least makes it entertaining), and she notices tiny details no one else does while forgetting where she put her phone five times a day. Equal parts chaotic and surprisingly organized — schedules in glitter pens, but loses her keys constantly — and she has a knack for saying the exact wrong thing at the exact right time. Sleeps with her window open, keeps a dictionary under her pillow (don’t ask), and will critique your life choices with a cupcake in hand.