Monster Love

Chapter 2 - Running Away

                    I woke up in bed, still flaming from his touch. I wasn't sure what had happened, but I was in a daze. Shaking and writhing. I sat up, feeling the burning passion within me. I breathed deeply, put my head in my arms. His words rang in my head, "Run Away." 

                    Did I want to run away? I struggled with my emotions. I wasn't worried about what might happen if I did. After all, I was a monster. Who was out there who could hurt me? Be more frightening than I? I was also curious. I didn't know what the stars looked like. My windows were boarded up; my father didn't like taking the chance of having me seen. 

                   At the thought of him, I felt an overwhelming rush of guilt. No. I couldn't leave him. I had to stay. I had to work it out. I swallowed the bile that had climbed up my throat. He was protecting me. His entire life - the precautions he had taken, the measures, the odd jobs, the small houses away from the cities, from the people...he had taken those for me. I didn't want to treat him like none of that mattered to me. 

                  I rose and stepped into a shower. When the water hit me, I felt a surge of power. The closer water was to seawater, the more power to me. I was only ever safe in water to sing, to raise my voice. I sang an old song that lingered in my mind. Thanks to my powers, I remembered everything that happened in my life with utter clarity. 

                   The humans I have spoken to did not remember their birth, their early life. I remembered being born, being held by a vision of beauty and allure, as she sang songs to me far too beautiful for any human to understand or be able to sing. I knew the power of music right away. I sang the first song she sang to me, clutching me, newly born, with lungs of my own. Not too loudly, of course.

                I wore my school uniform, a maroon skirt and a yellow top, looked myself in the mirror and breathed deeply. Here goes nothing. No matter how I tried, I would always be looked on as a s****l object. I despised that, and I also had come to despise my curves, my frame, my deeply womanly body, even now, at sixteen. 

                School was a quiet affair. My father had told them that I was mute, and warned me with dire consequences if I ever spoke. Luckily, I learned quickly that I shouldn't talk. Girls tried to be my friend at first, but oddly enough, I felt a deep, unseating terror towards them. Towards all humans. Nothing could hurt me faster than becoming intimate with a human. They would kill me in a heartbeat. Yes. I was afraid of humans. I am afraid of you, too. As a result, as I reached a junior year, with no friends, never having set foot in a party and never having had a conversation with anyone. Particularly not a boy.

                One athletic-looking guy called out to me, "Nice ass!" The other boys laughed. 

                "I would love to eat that ass", said another. 

                 "I'll bang it so hard, you'll speak!" yelled a third. 

               I watched them, the other girls turned to look at my glare. The smart ones hated me, the dumb ones were jealous of me. I may have been subject to lewd remarks, gazes, and whistles, but I never spoke up against any of them. I felt all the words I wanted to say build up in me, the awful, nasty things they said. I could feel their attempts to possess me, and with it, a growing need lash out at them. I knew if I tried to kill them, it would be because I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't handle a single second more, and they would feel the destructive lash of my vengeful voice. 

               I decided to do what my father made me do, and channel it into art. I picked up crayons and started to draw. I drew men, strong, muscular; the men these boys would become. I drew them scared. Hands over their ears. Stupid cool-guy outfits. Cowering, jerking with pain, shaking. Standing over them, to the other side, was me. The girl I was, really was, not what they conjured up when they looked at me. Not a s****l fantasy, but their worst nightmare. Everything they feared about girls, about women, coming true with me. I was wearing a frayed dress, my mouth was open. I had fangs, wild hair billowing behind me, and I was singing. 

               I drew black waves from where I stood, striking the men like punishing whip lashes. each one striking them to their very core, hurting them, changing them. I knew their secrets too. Each one. Everyone had a unique one. Not being good enough, not being man enough, being hurt...the list went on.

                These revenge fantasies, some of which were doodled into the sides of my notebooks, were what kept me going. My drawings as a child were never of princesses and princes, of rescues and castles. They were of men being overpowered by my voices, being utterly demolished. I treasured these. 

                 Usually, the teacher would not ask me to share with the class, and I never would, but today, maybe because I was glowering hard at a boy who would not stop staring at my legs, maybe because it was close to assessment time, or maybe because my paper flew under the fan and I got up to collect it, she came over. 

                  "Let's have a look then!" she said, taking it from me. I struggled with it in her hands, looking at her both hostile and pleading. That made her more adamant. She wrenched it free from me and held it up to the class. I felt like sinking below the floor as these very boys looked at my drawing. 

                   "Look what a wonderful - ", she began and was drowned out by ruckus laughter. My classmates couldn't believe how easily I had let my vulnerability show, and I felt like drowning in tears. The teacher looked at me sympathetically but didn't bother making it easy for me. Instead, she turned away and placed the drawing on her dress. I was shaking. The moment the bell rang, I got up and ran out of class without a word. Their howls fell on my footsteps all the way out. 

                     I kept my head down for the rest of the day. I avoided them. I knew, deep down, they would all move on to the next thing very soon. The next gossip or relationship. I felt shame pull me to the floor, and his words now kept coming back to me, "Run Away." It would be easier than dealing with all of this. One thing's for sure. The boy that I dreamed of was a monster too. That was his secret. Where do I go? I thought quietly, How do I find you?  If I run, how do I find you? I wasn't about to run without knowing what was waiting for me. 

                    Like an apparition deep in my mind, buried with my darkest thoughts and emotions, he appeared before me to answer. I knew no one else could see him. I stared at him, and couldn't help but smile. He was here, in front of me. I didn't need him to ease my shame, I could manage my broken bits on my own. I needed him to tell me there was a way out of this existence.

                     "There is a way out", he said, and I jumped. How can you read my mind? I was careful to think instead of say. 

                     "Come to the tunnel behind the Grand museum. You'll find us there."

                      "Who is us?" I wondered. In my mind, I was remembering the sweet moments when I first met him. The things he had said, the way he touched my hair. I was burning with curiosity. 

                      He said the last thing I expected anyone to say, "Friends. And maybe family." I struggled with this, trying to avoid the welling up of tears. I smiled. 

                      "I've never had them", I thought

                      "Most people who join us haven't. They've been shunned by society, rejected, cast out. Hunted by humans or those who seek glory or favor with Gods." 

                     Gods? What did he mean?

                     "The Gods who created us to balance the equation. We are nature's unfortunate balance. You have an equal and opposite somewhere too. Someone seeking to destroy you, as you seek to destroy them. The light to your darkness. Pray you never meet them, because they might just be the only thing that can truly defeat you for good."

                     I shuddered. I wasn't going to meet them. I just wanted a life, to have fun for a change, instead of this prison-like existence. I felt like I was in a straightjacket, tightly bound, unable to move or talk. Trapped. I would do far worse than die sitting in here. I would erode. And only humans eroded. 

                      "That doesn't matter. They're just people who will accept you. Lift you up and unleash you, all of you, without ever having to bring you down." 

                      My father controls everything about my life, but he's a good man. I sat down at my desk in an empty classroom. I had never cut class before but now seemed like a good time to do it. I looked at the apparition. He was wearing jeans and a leather jacket and looked relaxed, more than usual. 

                     "Can you talk?" 

                     Not now. 

                      "No, can you talk at all?" 

                      Yes, of course, I could talk. Good God. 

                     "That's good. Also, don't call God. He may love the sinners and outcasts, but he doesn't love the monsters."

                     "What should I call?" 

                      "Lilit, the Queen of Monsters." I froze at this and then laughed. Lilit. Of course.      

                       I struggled with myself. I knew if he was leading me into a trap, I would open my mouth, and he, like the pages full of men's corpses, would know what it meant to try and hurt me. I may be a little girl, but I was one with a voice. A voice to kill. 

                       His face stiffened when he heard this, and I felt oddly triumphant. He shouldn't have been in my head in the first place. He vanished when I thought this. I didn't mind as I already had my mind made up. I reached my home, practically running. I hugged my father tightly, and I could feel the fear as his chest clenched when he hugged me. 

                      "Did anything happen?" he demanded, "They said you cut class! How could you draw attention to yourself? Go upstairs now!"

                       I shook my head. He sighed, relaxed, and then took me by the shoulders, "Upstairs. Now." I could feel every fiber of my being rebel against him. There was a thrill in doing something I now realized every teenage girl would do - disobey their father, rebel and go and find their boyfriend whom their family would not approve of. I already felt myself starting to take my life into my own hands.