Strider was tucking Erin into bed, I was on the couch, drawing. The lights were dim and the red on my paper almost brought a twisted smile to my lips. I would share the picture, the beauty of that girl hanging from the side of a water tower, her intestines draped around her elegantly, but it is no longer beautiful to me.
Strider quietly stepped down the hallway, and stood in front of me. I could see the stiffness in his posture, the determination in his eyes. He stood there for several seconds before I set the sketchpad aside and stood, my own posture relaxed yet somewhat threatening. He glanced down before meeting my eyes, his mouth a set and determined line across his face.
"We need to talk"
I narrowed my eyes slightly at this, in an almost cat-like manner. Rather than display the suspicion and paranoia I felt verbally, I granted him a nonchalant "Oh?"
He stepped forward, and I tensed immediately as he came into the pale light, the shadows falling dark across his face as he spoke, almost softly, yet firmly, "You've changed.... Not in the good way."
I waited for him to continue, my jaw jutting out unintentionally as I fell into a stiffer pose, one more suited to brace for an attack... or to give one.
"You think of yourself as a Monster, when you are not. You are a Seeker, a weapon, but you need a release to keep you, come train with me." He stepped clear of the coffee table, everything about him screaming that I had one chance to accept his offer, or face the consequences.
I laughed bitterly, a slight touch of mania to my tone, a bittersweet smile spread across my lips before I went eerily silent, matching his gaze coldly. "I am a monster, sweetheart. And I get plenty of training in when I go out and play with all the little Runners."
"Sometimes you face others just as trained as you, like Rogue Seekers,"
He kicked at me, lighter than he could have at full power, knocking me back, causing me to curse and pull a knife from my belt, brandishing it expertly, I stepped at him, swinging the blade at his face with a sadistic smile. He simply leaned back, pushing the arm on past him as he gave me a sharp flat-palmed slap to my ribs. I continued to swing at him, almost wildly as he continued to give me stinging smacks on my neck, arms, torso, all of which hurt, serving only to anger me further. He knocked my knife away from me and I pulled another from the small sheathe I kept under my shirt. His every motion was fluid and clean, my own seeming sloppy and disorganized in comparison. I caught him on the arm as he blocked, unable to sidestep that particular blow, leaving a deep and nasty red gash down his forearm. The blood excited me for a moment, his small grunt of pain deeply satisfying, my smile growing larger. Though his painful smacks were not hindered by this injury, I could feel a well of triumph raising in my chest before I stopped, the knife slipping from my hand and falling to the floor. I looked at him with wide eyes, unable to comprehend what I had just done. I stood there, dumbstruck, for several long seconds before falling back, landing with a soft thump on the ground as I stared up at him from my sitting position.
"Strider..... I...... oh god, I'm so sorry...." was all I could say.
He watched me for several moments before glancing down the hallway towards the front door before looking back to me and stepping forward, sitting next to me with a small thud and pulling me in close.
I know what I need to be now.
You, a monster?
ReplyDeleteNope. If you were a monster you wouldn't have pulled back, you wouldn't be worried about being a monster. I've met monsters. You probably have too. They are not conflicted about what they've become. They revel in it.
So no, I don't think you are a monster. I think you're a goddamn saint, to have gone through the level of shit you did and not be worse. So focus on improving, but spare yourself the self hatred.