True Monsters (Chapter 2)
The first chapter is a few posts below here
I wake up gasping, something I am not too pleased about. I feel my forearm, but there’s no trace of my cuts. I remember doing it, and my mind is filled with those images, the bloody images. I shake my head, clearing it and casting sweat off my body. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I brace my hands on my knees as I fight of a wave of nausea.
As soon as the urge to puke passes, I check my clock to see if it’s time to start my day yet. A bleak 5:45 is displayed on the wall, fifteen minutes to early for me to start. I groan, and contemplate going back to sleep, but wobble to my feet instead. On the way, my sheet falls to the ground. As I pick it up, I feel crusty patches, and mumble angrily about the worthlessness of the washing machine. I throw it on top of my bed, but a flash of color catches my eye. My sheets, a normal light green, have several large dark spots, and not in a spludge pattern. Pausing to think about it, I try to rub the sleep from my eyes and walk backwards, but stumble over a pile of junk I’d sworn was pushed against the closet. My mind, too muddled to care about all of this, can only think of getting to the shower to finish off my morning wood, which I happily oblige to.
I make it all the way through school today, much to the relief of my friends. However, they pry as to what the hell happened yesterday, and not wanting to win another trip to guidance, I make up a bullshit story about being sick. It was half-assed, and they all raised their eyebrows in incredulity, but they seem satisfied with it at the moment, except Jordyn. She opens her mouth to voice some argument, but I cut her off with another bullshit story of having to be home. I feel her suspicious eyes burning into my soul all the way home.
As soon as I cross the threshold into my house, the bitching starts.
“Where the fuck have you been? Why the fuck did your school call, telling me you skipped yesterday?” My dad yells this at me as I try to make it to my room. I bite my tongue, not wanting to antagonize him anymore.
“Don’t you fucking walk away from me, bastard! Get your ass back here now!”
I ignore him and lock myself in my room, planning on waiting him out. He slams the panty door, cans rattling in the holders, and I taste blood from where I’ve been biting my tongue.
“WHERE THE FUCK IS MY BEER!?” He yells. Shit. I forgot he’d be home today, and I hadn’t restocked his precious booze. My heart is slamming into my chest as I hear him barreling up the stairs, booming footsteps shaking the house. He slams into my door, rattling it on its hinges and slightly cracking the wood. He repeats the question, bellowing loud enough to shake dust off my bookcase. Terrified and wide-eyed, I spot my open closet, and run towards it, hoping to find something to protect myself with. My dad has stopped speaking coherently, and is ramming into the door, which is starting to splinter under his bulk. I push clothes and nick-knacks out of my way, searching desperately for any suitable weapon, when the pounding on my door stops.
In fact, everything had stopped. A pair of pants was frozen in the air, halfway falling off a hanger. My shirts and jackets were immobile with the ripple of frantic motion inscribed in the fabric. I try to touch something to determine why it wasn’t moving when a blinding light bursts from the corner of my closet, eradicating all shadows, and then shut off as fast as it happened, plunging the room into pure darkness.
My terror intensifies. This was following the same pattern as last night, but this wasn’t a nightmare! The steady breathing started up on, and two glowing purple dots cut through the darkness. They rose up and move towards me, stopping mere inches from my face. Jordyn’s suspicious stare earlier could not compare to the energy thrumming from these spots.
My body tries to shudder as they blaze into my eyes, but my petrified body wouldn’t respond. I try to take a deep breath, but even that response has been paralyzed by this monster. It inches closer, and I feel something on my cheek, a long thin pressure, travelling from the corner of my eye down to my chin. Some of the fiery energy left, and the pressure lifts off my face. The points turn slowly, fading away as some dark mass overtakes it.
After the lights completely fade away, I can’t see anything again, not even an afterimage. All sense of time is lost, and I don’t know how long I was frozen in place when my legs suddenly give out. I fall to the floor, and sunlight blasts through the partially closed blinds, illuminating papers and clothes tumbling down to the ground to join me.
The pins and needles quickly flood from my legs, chasing the feeling of paralysis away, and replacing it with horrid numbness. The sunlight streaming in blinds me, and after the oppressive silence earlier, even the background whirring of fans and soft music is deafening. I lay here until I realize something is wrong, asides the fact that reality was temporarily suspended. I t kept pressing against my consciousness, a very small something that wasn’t right.
Staggering to my feet, I pace around, trying to work out the feeling of numbness. Vertigo attempts to seize me, but I fight it off after gripping a chair to stabilize myself. Full mental function slowly returns, and I dedicated all my attention on figuring out what the problem is, but nothing seemed out of place, no odd sounds or strange smells.
And then it hit me like a wrecking ball to the stomach. I ran to my door, trip, and finish my dash on all fours, barely managing to get the door open in my delirium. I use the frame to pull myself up, quickly scanning the hall, searching. I regain balance, and start walking forward when I promptly fall on my face again.
I collapse onto some sort of mass. I groan and roll onto my back, compressing whatever the blob under me was. I take a deep breath; relax, when the mass moans.
Adrenaline kicks in, blasting me to my feet. I spin around, and press my back flat to the wall, certain my heart was rattling the house with its pounding beat. I stare at the blob to discern what it is, but spots in my eyes obscure my vision. Blinking, they slowly vanish, and horror contorts my face as the blob takes a coherent shape.
I drop down beside my prone father, shaking and yelling to try and wake him up. Nothing worked, so I flip him over and begin CPR. Drool leaks from the corner of his mouth, and starts to pool. I try once again to rouse him, but I know it won’t work. I breathe deep, mind and heart racing as I try to remember the steps. I grab my phone and dial 911, and jam it between my shoulder and ear, freeing my hands to remove my dad’s shirt. However, it seemed adamant to stay where it was; I ripped and tore at it, but to no avail. My frantic fingers pulled at the edges, the collar, even the baggy section around his abdomen, but nothing worked. My attention was diverted by the dispatcher, who was practically shouting into the phone now.
“Hello? What is your emerge-”
The phone line went dead, stealing my last line of defense. I let the phone slip out of the crevice I created, and it clatters to the floor. A pall of rage overcomes me now, and I let it flow through me, every injustice fueling my primeval fury. Without thinking, I smash and flail my arms, anger pouring out.
Inadvertently, my fist hits my dad, and a snap precludes a rib tearing through his shirt, tip shining white. I stare in horror and amazement, waiting for the blood. But even my mortification isn’t safe from my blistering inferno of rage, and my horror transforms into hatred.
“Why did you leave me!?” I yell at him, eyes bulging and brows furrowed. I ball my fists again, knuckles cracking. “You can’t be dead!” I start punching his face, which crumples under the barrage. A cheekbone spears through his skin, but no blood, no bruises, the only sign of punishment is the awful blanched bone. I strike again, crushing his nose into his head, the sick sound of breaking cartilage reverberating through the air.
Eventually, exhausted from my explosions, I stop attacking my father, his ruined face mocking my wasted energy, white bones stark against his pal demolished face. His lips are mere flaps of skin, and most of his teeth are missing. This macabre creation was made worse by the lack of concealing blood, every flaw standing out in stark relief.
I sit back and stare at the fruits of my destruction, repulsion mixed with satisfaction, smile washed out by the taste of bile.
His protruding rib sticks out of his chest like an iceberg, tip shining and mocking me, jagged edges wickedly curved.
“Look at me.” His broken body whispered, open cuts puckering like lips. “This is your doing. Are you proud now?”
I puke, splattering vomit on the carpet. Tears stream from my face as the realization finally hits; my dad is gone. I rock forward and hug his decrepit body, avoiding his broken bones. Tears are flowing from my face into his shirt, soaking into the unmoving cloth. Images of previous interactions clamor for attention in my mind, pleasant childhood experiences mixing with the atrocities after he became an alcoholic. I fall back, confused and scared, and bury my face between my knees, hiding from the cadaver.
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