Consume Me Whole

Between Love and Rage

The late-night stillness of their new apartment was disrupted only by the occasional creak of the walls settling and the distant sounds of traffic outside. Monty lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, each crack a reminder of the life he and Estela had escaped. It was quiet now, but the silence felt heavy, suffocating. He could hear Estela's muffled sobs from the other room, and with every shuddering breath she took, a new wave of guilt washed over him.

What kind of brother am I? The thought spiraled through his mind like a runaway train, relentless and punishing. He should have protected her better. He should have been there to shield her from their father's wrath. Instead, he had been too wrapped up in his own pain, too focused on his survival to notice how much Estela was hurting.

With a heavy heart, Monty climbed off his bed and made his way to Estela's room. He pushed the door open quietly, revealing her curled up on her bed, clutching a worn stuffed animal to her chest. Monty stepped inside, hesitating for a moment before sitting down beside her.

"Hey," he said softly, trying to keep his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. "Can we talk?"

Estela wiped her eyes and nodded, her expression a mix of sadness and apprehension. "I just... I don't know what to do," she admitted, her voice small and fragile. "Everything feels so different, and I'm scared."

Monty's heart ached at the sight of his sister in pain. He wanted to reach out, to wrap her in his arms and take away all her fears, but he felt so lost himself. "I'm sorry, Stel," he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I should've done more to protect you. I should've kept you safe."

Estela looked at him with wide eyes, a mixture of confusion and hurt. "You did your best, Monty. You can't blame yourself for what he did. You're not him."

Monty swallowed hard, the shame clawing at him like a wild animal. "But I'm still a man. I still carry that rage inside of me. What if one day I hurt you, too?"

She shook her head vehemently. "You're not him," she insisted, her voice gaining strength. "I know you're angry, but you're not the monster he was. You're my brother. I love you, and I know you love me."

The sincerity in her voice cut through the fog of guilt, leaving behind a raw sense of vulnerability. "I just want to be someone you can rely on," Monty confessed, tears welling in his eyes. "I don't want to destroy you like he did."

Estela moved closer, her small frame pressing against his. "You won't. I promise. I'm scared, too. I don't know how to feel safe in this new place. But we'll figure it out together, right?"

Monty nodded, swallowing hard as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. They sat in silence, both lost in their thoughts, letting the shared pain weave a fragile bond between them.

Later that night, after Estela had finally fallen asleep, Monty lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. He could still feel the weight of her words hanging in the air, but another voice crept into his mind-one that felt far more familiar and destructive. You're just another man who destroys the people you love.

The thought gnawed at him, a relentless echo of his father's presence that lingered even in death. He rolled onto his side, trying to find a comfortable position, but sleep wouldn't come. Not with the memories of their father's rage seeping into his thoughts, not with the weight of Estela's fears resting heavy on his shoulders.

Just when he thought he might suffocate under the pressure, he heard a soft knock at his window. Monty turned to see Winston's familiar silhouette outlined against the moonlight. He hurried to let him in, the urgency of the moment pulling him from his spiraling thoughts.

"Hey," Winston said quietly as he climbed through the window, a look of concern etched across his features. "I heard you guys talking. Is she okay?"

Monty shrugged, the weight of his own guilt still pressing down on him. "She's scared. We both are."

Winston stepped closer, his eyes searching Monty's face for answers. "What about you?"

Monty's breath hitched in his throat, a wave of emotion threatening to crash over him. "I don't know if I can be what she needs. I don't want to let her down, but... I feel so angry all the time."

Winston took a step closer, closing the distance between them, his presence a calming force in the storm swirling inside Monty. "You're not your father, Monty. You never will be."

The conviction in Winston's voice cracked something open inside him, the floodgates of emotion spilling over as Monty broke down. "But what if I hurt her? What if I can't control it?"

Winston wrapped his arms around Monty, pulling him close. "You're not going to hurt her. You're working on yourself. You're going to therapy. You're taking steps to understand your feelings. You're not a monster."

Monty buried his face in Winston's shoulder, letting the warmth of his boyfriend's embrace seep into his bones. "I'm so scared, Winston," he confessed, his voice muffled against the fabric of Winston's shirt. "I don't want to become like him. I don't want to destroy the people I love."

"You won't," Winston reassured him, his voice steady and unwavering. "You're stronger than you think. You're a good person, Monty. You care about Estela. You care about me."

Monty took a shaky breath, feeling the tightness in his chest begin to ease, if only a little. "I just wish I could believe that."

Winston pulled back slightly, enough to meet Monty's gaze, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. "You will. Just give it time. You're already on the right path, and I'll be here every step of the way. You're not alone."

For the first time in what felt like ages, Monty allowed himself to believe the words, the reassurance settling in his heart like a soft whisper. Maybe he wasn't destined to repeat the cycle of destruction. Maybe he could be different.

As they stood there, their foreheads pressed together, Monty felt a flicker of hope ignite within him, battling against the shadows of doubt. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Winston-warmth, comfort, and safety. And in that moment, surrounded by the love of someone who truly saw him, Monty began to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be someone worthy of love after all.