How Do you Kill a Monster without Becoming One….
It ain’t easy. That much is for sure. Been a long time since I killed anything but back in the day….. yeah…. back in the day…..
It came for me when I was 15. Thought I was tough then, I did. Big swagger as I walked down the street. Tough words. Angry words. Ugly words. Funny how when you’re young you think those things make you tough. Don’t take me wrong. I was a scrapper. I’d been in any number of street fights. All my life. Thought that made me tough, too. How little I knew.
It came on a Monday. I was home. Had to be. My little sister was there. Didn’t like to leave her alone at night. Not if I could help it. We had day-old hot dogs for dinner. A dented can of baked beans. Marshmellow fluff.
Lived in a series of rooms. Used to be offices when the building was a warehouse. One central room with a hotplate, couple broke-back chairs. A table. A radio. Another room with two mattresses on the floor. A bathroom that worked. Barely. But enough for water to clean and cook. I’d installed locks on the doors. Kept us safe so far. Then again, I wasn’t asleep yet.
Been years now. Too many. Never did find my little sister. I looked for her sometimes. All the times. That face in the crowd. A voice across a street. A dream of before I’d become a monster. But now… now I am old. Haven’t killed in years.
Weren’t killing that’d made me a monster. No. Abandoning her did. Ran when the Government people finally tracked us down. Gonna take us into the system. Foster homes. Schools. The ‘right’ life. Couldn’t take that. And so I ran.
She screamed. Begged. Tears. Never did forget that. Never did forget the sound of tears. Sound rang in my ears the rest of my days. Still there now. But it’s gonna be gone soon.
Soon. Another breath. Two. Another tear. I’ll no longer be a monster.