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when does a monster stop being a monster?
when does a monster stop becoming hungry, vile and soulless, looking for blood? when does a monster stop provoking or eliciting horror from wickedness? when does a monster stop being ugly?
what if the monster wasn't truly evil at all?
why do you call it a monster? what did it do to deserve that name? what did that name do to deserve it?
what if you are the monster?
and after that, how do you know it isn't a monster?
how do you know that the human you see today, telling you that they love you like Daedalus loved Icarus, or as much as Apollo loved Daphne, what if they don't have a soul? what if the lightness and softness, the fire in their eyes, the stubborn determination that they could do something to rock the universe, what if it's all fake?
when, tell me, when is a monster a monster?
...the truth is, I don't know.
I do know that I am the monster. I am the monster who feeds off screams of fear. I am the monster, who breaks you, and then I'll tell you I'll fix you and then break you all over again. I am the monster who killed Beckendorf. I am, probably, worse than a monster.
when is a monster a monster?
...maybe, to start, when you enjoy the feeling of crushing someone's soul.
