The Monster

Monster

She was curled up in a corner and I could tell that every inch of her body was in pain. My father inched closer and closer to her as his eyes burned in rage. She was afraid. Her eyes said so. But then again she was tired of the same shit that happened every day.

The belt struck her for the umpteenth time as she coughed more blood on the floor. Her sobs got louder from time to time. She wanted to stop him, but she did not protect herself. She did not even protest. Maybe because she knew it would be of no use. 

And the same thing was for me too. I did not try to protect her. There would be no good if I did so. Instead, I would be the sufferer.

There he goes again. Another strike and my mother was coughing blood again. Man... it would be a drag to clean up the mess that now dirtied the floor all over.

When my father, still drunk, left the room banging the door close, my mother finally dropped her body on her own pool of blood. I could see her face through the messy strands of hair. It was severely bruised and her left eye was swollen blue. Her lips were parched. She closed her eyes. She was too tired.

When she opened her eyes again, she was different. I could feel so, her eyes more blank and dull than usual. I had seen those eyes too many times. That was the way father always looked at me and mother. Hatred. Loath. Disgust. 

And then she was looking at me. She was looking at me. N-no... NO! NOOO!!!

The pillow was suffocating me too much. 

I struggled to breathe. 

I wanted to free myself. 

I wanted to push away my mother. 

I wondered why my hands wouldn't move even if I wanted to. 

I wanted to live. 

But... only some blurry words crept into my ears through the pillow, "Die, you fucking bloody motherfucker! It's because of you that I have to suffer like this! Only if you were never born, I would have lived my entire life happily. Die! DIE!"

Those were the last words, I can remember before I opened my eyes again. And this time, I was in the washroom. When did I come here? I... don't remember. I was standing in front of the basin and was washing my hands. Why was I washing them? Reddish-coloured liquid washed away from my hands. It seemed like blood and I felt filthy. Wait... Blood?

And suddenly, I don't know why, I looked up at the mirror. And shocked at the view, I fell back, horrified. There was someone in the mirror, his face covered with drops of blood. There was some — 

No... 

It was me. 

I was in the mirror.

But, how did I get myself covered with blood? It looked as if I slaughtered someone. But I didn't do it, right? I DIDN'T DO IT, RIGHT?! Then h-how? Why can't I remember anything?!

As I sat on the floor, confused, I heard people barging into the washroom, breaking the door open as I turned around.

There were many people. They wore the same formal blue wear. But I did see that uniform somewhere. Was it when father was watching television? Yeah... there were these people. What were they called again? Was it police! But why were they here?

My mother, clothed with a blood-bathed rag, stood behind them. She was telling something to the police. "He! He killed him! HE IS A MONSTER!" Her index finger was pointed at me. Me? A monster? How can I be so?