To Escape the
Monster
She stood there and stared at the door before her. Her thoughts were a jumbled with memories
even as her emotions cycled through the tumult of feelings she worked so hard
to run away from. One could hear the
voices on the other side, but as hard as she attempted, still to open that door
and walk through seemed impossible. Hand
poised to knock, and then lowered once to rest by her side. “Why… why after all these years must it be so
difficult.” She could not prevent the thought from slipping in. Having run away from this very house so many
years ago; and yet here she was quaking with fear, frozen as a deer in
headlights upon a lonely highway at night.
Eyes closed… Breath deep… Relax… And yet she is captured by the very
memories she sought to escape, pulling her down the rabbit hole, to a place
filled with tomorrows and yesterdays…
16 years earlier
The house was finally quiet as she woke with the dawn’s
light; her body sore after last night’s beating. Gingerly she maneuvered herself off the
mattress on the floor, pushing aside her threadbare blanket. Truthfully, it should have been no different
than any other beating, but it was. Her
feet touch the cold wooden floor before her, spring was here but it was still
chilly in the mornings. She had given up
many years before believing in fairy tales.
No one was going to rescue her. There was no Godmother waiting to wave
her wand and magically turn her nightmare into a reality, in which she had
loving parents, a good home, and food; never having to feel the bite of the
whip or her head smashing into a wall again.
As she stood with caution, her body stretched and attempted
to conform to her eleven year old frame.
The pain rocked through her, blossoming up her back; its fingers
reaching out to brush against every fiber of her being. The assault forcing a gasp from her young
lips, her body doubling over; quickly she bit down upon her bottom lip in hopes
of not making a sound, not wishing to wake the Monster in the room next to
hers. Slowly the pain ebbed, fading but
never truly gone. Too many years have
gone by, the pain almost a welcome friend by now; leaving the reminder she
still lived. She no longer loved the Monster,
in truth; she could not remember what it felt like to feel love. Love was dangerous and left one open to even
more pain. It was better to feel
nothing… to be nothing… than to risk allowing emotions within her small space
of existence to give her hope.
Having gotten dressed she walked on her toes, to the
bathroom, knowing any noise could wake the sleeping beast. Grappling blindly for the light switch, she
finally found what she sought. The dull
dead glow of the soot covered bulb filled the room. A dribble of water fell from the faucet,
just enough to not cause noise, but she could still brush her teeth. Her fingers gripped the edge of the sink,
while her knuckles turned white; she stood there staring at the image in the
dirty mirror. Though her face reflected
back to her, it was not her own image she saw, but rather that of the Beast, as
he leered and laughed the night before.
After so many years, habit had developed in which one worked
to escape his gaze by appearing to be invisible. This was her super power: invisibility; no
one could see her and no one noticed her.
At times she wondered if she lived in the land of “No Ones.” Did this make her a nothing? She stood there staring back at the
reflection, wishing her brain would quiet.
She feared he would hear her, even simple thoughts somehow the beast
would know, and the nightmare would begin again. Her hands came up to cover her mouth, willing
herself not to scream as the pain racked her once more. The knowledge that the “No Ones” would pay
little to no attention to her sat upon her frail shoulders. What did it matter to those on the
outside? She would walk into school and
still “No One” would notice as she bit her lip, sitting down at her desk with
effort. “No One” would not ask if she
was ok or needed help, as “No One” wish to know. What the “No Ones” did not know allowed them
to go about their lives within oblivion.
It was all her fault.
She knew this. Acceptance of the
blame was also habit. Obviously she had
done something to deserve the fresh bruises and whip marks upon her back and
legs. She tried to remember what caused
last night make it so she was not invisible.
“Why had her power failed her?
Had she looked the wrong way? Not
fetched him a beer quickly enough? Were
the dishes washed improperly?” Through
the cyclone of questions, she could find no answer. At times there was no answer. In the end he enjoyed her screams, the pain
he inflicted upon her. She stood there
for what felt like hours, and yet was simply minutes. She knew it had been different. How could it not be? Never before had he demanded she take her
clothes off. Always in the past he left
her clothed while the belt kissed her young form. Except why the change last night…?
He had not been drunk, unless one counted the excitement that
oozed from his very pours. She had been
hiding in her room, using the hall light to do her homework by, when he came
in. Her eyes looked up at him, a rabbit
frozen upon the floor, fear and acceptance lighting her eyes that the Monster
had come. Her shoulders tensed as she
waited for him to move. The scent of his
foul breath seeping over her, crushing any other as it fought to dominate her
spirit. The Monster stood there, tall
and broad, his body weight excessive from the multitude of drinking and drugs
over the years. Tendrils of fear began
with her stomach, clenching her ribs making it hard for her to breathe. Slowly they moved over her skin causing
goosebumps to appear on her body. Eyes
downcast she avoided looking upon him.
Perhaps if she willed it her super power would return and he would
leave, having forgotten for the moment her mere existence.
“Little bitch…” The words hissed from his dry, cracked
lips. “Looking at men… little whore…
just like your mother!” She clenched the
pen wishing she had the courage to stab him with the very tool she used to do
homework. She knew it was futile to deny
his accusations. To do so would only
fuel his excitement and rage. “Stand
up!” The order came; only still she sat
there hunched over shivering, frozen in time.
“STAND UP I SAID!” His fingers ripped through the long strands of her
blonde hair, dragging her across the room to the bare mattress. She felt the dull ache flowing over her scalp
attempting to tune out the pain itself.
Her head connected with the wall, as she was thrown upon the
mattress. His breathing had hitched and
grown more feverish with anticipation.
Lying there upon the bed she attempted to curl herself up, seeking
protection for what was next. The sound
of his belt unclipping and sliding from his pants reminded her of what a snake
would sound as it slithers towards you about to strike. For some reason the movie “Ricky Ticky Tavi”
came to mind. She recalled the snake as
it hovered and swayed, waiting to strike down the small child, bringing the
gift of death. Why did she not die? What made it so she had to stay in this hell?
“Take your clothes off. “ Still she did not… no could not
move. Her muscles contracted and
tightened, preventing her from standing.
His booted foot connected with her side, and a scream erupted from her
soul. She could not prevent that
scream’s escape even if she had wanted to.
“Now take your fucking clothes off, or I will do it for you!” Placing a hand upon the wall next to her, she
could feel the cold plaster under her fingers as she attempted to stand. Her hands moved over her body, slowly
removing her clothes. Her mind blanked
out the scene, allowing her to escape into her own fantasies. Had she been able to realize it was her
innocence and youth that excited him to a state of rage, perhaps she would have
fought back. No... She wouldn’t. Nothing would prevent him once he reached
this heightened state. “No One” was
there to rescue her or make the nightmare stop.
Standing before him in only her panties, she kept her dull
blue eyes staring at the ground, her hair hanging in long strands about her
head and face. “Take all your fucking
clothes off, bitch…” Her fingers shook as the hitched within the elastic band
of her underwear, little white ones with small faded pink flowers etched upon
them. Lifting her right foot, followed
by her left one she stepped out of the small scrap of cloth, letting it simply
lie there upon the hardwood floor. The
coolness of the room barely penetrated her brain, standing there with her young
burgeoning body just beginning to enter puberty bared to his eyes.
He wrapped the belt around his hand, creating a firm grip as
he stood back. The sound it made slicing
through the air caused time to slow down.
Her mind looked upon the scene as one watching a movie in slow
motion. The feeling engulfed her leaving
her watching in horror and fascination as if it took forever for the beast to
connect his whip to her body. The
screams came forth. She could not resist
them. The kiss of each stroke of the
belt caused her to run around the Beast, in that empty room, all except for
that mattress. His lips turned upwards
in a smile, as glee and excitement flowed from him. The backs of her legs and back soon became
covered, as did the front. She could
barely hear his words, her screams flooding her mind and soul.
“Bitch… Whore… Slut… Like your mother, the fucking whore! I
will show you what a fucking man is!” He
snarled; drool and spittle flying around the room. He laughed at his own images he evoked with
each sting of his belt and the foul language he used to beat her
psychologically. Was there ever a time
she loved this Monster? She could not
recall. A far off memory seeps through
recalling a time when there was laughter and smiles, obviously just a fragment
of another reality. She does not know
that child who laughed and giggled. The
belt comes down across her young breasts and stomach, bringing her crashing to
her knees before him. Her arms wrapped
around her frame seeking to hide, and yet he does not cease; her submission
driving him further over the edge.
Her brain screamed out “Stop!
STOP! I AM NOT HER!” yet her
voice was lost amidst the cries wrenched from her very soul. It felt as if “Time” laughed at her. The voices within her brain laughed at her,
mocking her weakness and inability to fight back. The “No Ones” turned away, ignoring her
pleas, leaving her to the monster, for him to feast upon her flesh and
pain. The woman who should of loved and
protected her, lost within the haze of drugs, down stairs. Once she called her mother… now she simply
thought of her as nothing. Finally the
beating ends. He stands above her,
staring down at her bruised and battered body upon the wooden planks, for what
feels like eternity. Turning he walks
from the room leaving her huddled, a mass of bruises and clotting blood. He hasn’t even acknowledged her, called her
by name. She is not even sure he knows
her name, or if she exists enough to have an identity.
Crawling over to the dirty mattress she lies there, curled
within herself, rocking back and forth.
Quiet tears creep down her cheeks as she whispers “I am not her… I am
not her…” repeatedly, until the blessed darkness overwhelms her, allowing her
to pass out. Her mind comes back to stare once more at the
image, and for the first time she sees herself;
long blond hair, pale haunted blue eyes, and skinny body. She knows if she stays she will die. Where this thought comes from she knows not
but as it takes hold of her a light flares up in those eyes. Escape… She can escape… She had to if she
wished to live. Finishing up in the
bathroom she moved down the stairs, trying her best not to cause a sound. She avoided breakfast, but grabbed an orange
to stick in her backpack. The knowledge
of freedom rushes through her, causing her to shake with fear. What if he found her? She could not let that happen. She had to run… RUN! She had to leave and keep on running.
Opening the door partway, she took one last look around the
building she had called home for her bare existence, before slipping through
and outside into the brisk morning air of early May. Where could she go? Who would believe her? She needed to hide.
Heading down the street past her school, she heard the
morning bell signaling the start of the day, only she continued on. “RUN!” Her inner self demanded, and so she
did, running till she came to the City Library.
She hid amongst the books, allowing the hours to slip by, losing track
of time as her body ached and called out for her to rest. She nibbled slowly upon her orange, reading
the stores of books before her. Here she
was safe. The Beast could not find
her.
Morning became afternoon, and soon afternoon slipped away to
become evening. A Librarian walked over
to where she sat hunched within the Children’s corner, cuddled upon a bean
bag. Leaning down to touch her arm,
meaning no harm, only wishing to inform her the library was about to close; and
yet she screamed and jumped shaking as she scrambled backwards. The elder woman could see she was harmed and
needed help. Standing she offered her
some juice and graham crackers, which she accepted gratefully. While she sat and nibbled delicately upon the
snack, the Librarian called 911.
Soon the girl was surrounded by various police and social
workers. One, a female also, made her retreat
into the bathroom and present her back for viewing. Pictures were snapped and various reports
filled out. Questions were asked of how
she became in such a state. The adults
all assured her she would not have to go back to the Monster. She was going somewhere safe. She listened but did not believe. There was nowhere safe, and yet for the first
time in her meager life the “No Ones” became “Some One.” A small blossom of hope opened within
her. It was tiny, a speck really, and
yet it filled her with such possibility that maybe it was finally over. She was no longer a nothing.
Present day
She came forth from her memories to find herself standing
once more facing the door. The voices
were still flowing through the wooden structure. She had run for 16 years, it was time to
finally stop running. Lifting her hand
she knocked, resolution, determination and fear flooding that simple knock,
forcing it to sound as a cannon echoing through her skull.
The door opened to find her faced with the Monster, himself,
only he had grown old. He was no longer
the young, strong vicious man he once was, who filled her reality with
nightmares, and her dreams with visions of darkness. Now he stood there bent and withered by age
and time. His eyes, the same blue as
hers, came to rest upon her face. She
was surprised to see them fill with tears as the haunted expression of one who
has been hunted by his own demons, as she gazed upon him.
Yes he was the Monster, and still he was not. There was no longer anything for her to
fear. She had finally won. It was not her who was the nothing, but
rather him. She found she could no
longer hate him, and only feel pity for what he was now. As their gazes stood locked, unable to
retreat, her voice reaches out filled with ice and regret…
“Hello Father, it has been a while.”
