A Monster Just Striving For Love

Prologue

Prologue:

The house shakes with every step he takes up the stairs. Steady but menacing he moves, the thud of his boots is thunder rumbling behind masses of clouds. I hear him grumbling under his breath, spitting each word with such bitterness, cursing as he slams a hand against the wall. I flinch, running my fingers along the ridges of my door as he comes closer, bringing his dark shadows of misery with him.

   My legs shake, threatening to give out beneath me as I suck in ragged breaths, my chest burning. A pummel of pain accompanied by the sound of my machine gun heart. I disappoint myself at the fear swimming in my stomach, clawing up my throat. I should be strong, determined. Ready to stand up to my imperious father and smirking at his contempt scowl. But even though the hate is ripping apart my bones, inflating me with infernal thoughts, white terror is the ruler that takes the throne.

   My palms sweat and I stumble backward, my limbs jelly as his footsteps echo like funeral bells in my ears. The haze of my room is a swarm before me, spinning in a fast, confusing blur, my head excruciating. He’ll be here soon, I can hear the creak of the doorknob as it turns. He’ll stomp in here, empty liquor bottle in one shaking hand, and the acrid stench of alcohol and smoke in his breath. The reek of it clogs up my lungs, my vision spotting with dots like an ink pen ruining a perfectly white page. And I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I don’t even know where my father is. My head just starts to swarm with thoughts and visions, and all I can do is drink it in. Any chance of distraction from this hell I reside in.

I flash in and out of reality. My white Nikes pounding on the rain-slicked pavement, kicking up gravel as I run through a blinding storm. Raindrops pierce my skin like needles, my fingers curling against the blows. The world around me is a mess of gray sheets of water and looming buildings, the sky charcoal and my destination a flimsy fence before me. Strands of wet dark hair plaster against my face and wind blow across my body, my clothes becoming one with me. I can think of nothing, I don’t even know where I am, I’ve never experienced before. But my thoughts are of one name, one person, who obviously means something important to me. Zeke, Zeke, Zeke. I’ve never been here before, I’ve never heard of that person. Whatever this is, a dream or scrap of the future, the intensity of the voice in my head is something to obviously not ignore. I jump over the wobbling fence and back into tipsy reality.

My father is in the doorway, stumbling lopsidedly as he bumps into wall and curses. Totally and absolutely drunk. Along with smoke and beer, he carries sweat and the lurking presence of my mischievous brother who finds dark amusement in watching me suffer. My father is a Devil, and every time he is near I start to doubt my chance of living. The fear is cumbersome, collapsing on me because I’m too weak to carry it. His dark gaze, two gaping black voids, find mine and they burn like a hellish flame.

“STAVROS!” He bellows, and the sound rockets me into another vision.

   

   What I think is the moon is actually a pair of beautiful silver eyes. Droplets of dew on a leaf, melting softly into me, caressing against the pain of my father’s. They hover right before me, barely away, and I find my hand smoothing out silky black curls. That name from earlier still rings in my mind, but it’s warmer...gentle now. Not shouty or determined. I strive for the heartfelt feeling in the air, for if this is the future, I want that too. I want this to happen, I want that name in my mouth to be something I speak in reality.

   “Zeke.” It slips from my tongue like smooth wine. It makes me calm, and the heat in my cheeks a good sense. The person before me looks up and smiles fondly, drifting over my form and resting on my lips.

   “Stav...,” he whispers, his pale fingers tapping against dark olive skin, and his mouth on mine.

Again, I’m back in my room and now pressed against the floor. Pain that wasn’t there now comes flooding forward, and I clench my teeth at the force of it. Something is dribbling down my chin and I quickly wipe it up. Deep scarlet. Blood. I realize my father is above me, the beer bottle trembling in his fist. He moves it back a bit, the glass reflecting shards of light, dread eating holes in my heart. I see someone shift in the corner of my eye, light brown hair shading one part of his face. My brother, Vasilios. I want to scream at him to save me, yank me out of the jaws of danger. But he just sits on the bed, watching me calmly with those midnight irises he shares with our father.