THE MONSTER INSIDE ME (#ONC2024)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: RAGE

The days pass quietly. Therapy continues, and I feel calmer on the surface, as if someone has lowered the volume of the world. I still don't make friends. I don't want to. In the afternoons, my uncle Ryan comes to see me.

Today, he stands in front of me, talking, but I barely hear him. My attention drifts—not to desire, but to presence. His face. His voice. The way he occupies space without threatening it. My chest tightens, not with hunger, but with something worse: need.

"Arabella?" he asks gently. "Are you listening?"

I nod, though it's a lie.

He takes my hand. The contact sends a jolt through me, sharp and unwelcome. Panic flares. This isn't comfort. This is a danger. I pull my hand away too quickly.

"My head hurts," I say. "I want to be alone."

He hesitates, clearly concerned. "Do you want me to call a nurse?"

"No. I just need to lie down."

He stands, slower now, as if unsure of me. That hurts more than anything.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says.

Before leaving, he touches my cheek briefly, then kisses my forehead.

"That's what I do with my kids when they're unwell," he explains, almost apologetic.

The door closes behind him.

I sit frozen, disgusted with myself. The warmth in my body feels like contamination. I press my hands to my face and whisper, "Stop." I don't know who I'm speaking to—myself, or something else.

I'm not in love. I'm broken.

Weeks pass.

The thoughts don't leave. They multiply. My uncle becomes an anchor in my mind—safety mistaken for salvation. When he misses a visit one afternoon, I spiral. My breathing turns shallow. I feel abandoned, irrationally certain that something terrible has happened.

When he returns the next day, relief hits so hard it makes me dizzy. He hugs me, briefly, carefully. I cling too long.

He stiffens. He steps back.

Shame burns through me.

"Arabella," he says softly, "are you all right?"

I nod again. Another lie.

"Have you seen the demon?" he asks.

Every day, I think. Every night.

"No," I say. "I think he's gone."

He exhales, but his face stays tense. "I don't trust that. Zamon disappears before he strikes. We're working on breaking the pact."

I barely hear him. I'm fighting myself.

I can't stay near him. I can't trust my mind. I can't bear the way Zamon laughs at me in the dark, telling me I want what I shouldn't.

I have to end this.

"Go away," I snap.

He blinks. "What?"

"Leave me alone," I say, louder. "I can't— I don't want to see you anymore."

Confusion crosses his face. "Arabella, did I do something—"

"Just go!" I shout.

He doesn't move immediately. That hesitation breaks something inside me.

Rage erupts—hot, blind, uncontrollable. I lunge at him.

I don't remember deciding to do it. I only remember the sound of his body hitting the chair, the shock in his eyes. I strike him wildly, not to hurt him, but to escape myself. My fists shake. Tears blur my vision.

Then it stops.

Reality crashes back in.

I collapse, sobbing, my strength gone. I can't look at him.

Ryan doesn't strike back. He doesn't shout. He carefully lifts himself, bruised and stunned, and sits beside me on the floor at a distance that feels deliberate.

"It's going to be okay," he says quietly. "You're not a monster."

I shake my head, unable to speak.

He doesn't touch me again.

And that restraint—more than anything—breaks my heart.