What Makes A Monster?

Chapter 1

 I'm buried in a private plot off of the main cemetery in East city. My parents' headstone sits beside mine, the dates all reading the same. Every year my brother makes the trek through the city, from his penthouse at the center, through the side streets and the sleepy marketplace, and into the cemetery on the anniversary. Every year before the sun rises, and the city is only just beginning to stir, Hale keeps vigil while the sun appears over the horizon.

The warm golden glow of the sun reflecting off of the city behind him could provide a feeling akin to hope. But if you knew his story, if you knew mine, you would feel the loneliness that sinks deeper with every passing second the sunlight appears. I'd almost rather have the world bathed in shadows, so everyone could feel the cold fury that festers inside me, and see for themselves- the gaping hole where Hale's chest is gouged out.

The loneliness that blankets the air on these days is suffocating, the memories all rushing back to me. The cracks I feel in my chest creak dangerously, warning me of the fragile state, but it's all I can do to press on. I cannot rest until the world is rid of the demons haunting it.

Some think of demons as creatures with devilish horns, sharp scowls that reveal canine teeth. Those are demons from children's tales, not the true demons that walk among us, everyone blissfully unaware of their presence. The demons who wear human masks that disguise their corrupted souls, blackened beyond repair with greed, their hands tainted with bloodshed. They lust after anything akin to power and all rush towards it, all the while shoving and clawing, biting and scratching. In their wake they trail nothing but tragedy and destruction.

It is those demons that in that reckless pursuit of power, destroyed my family. My brother and I were nothing but collateral in their wake, helpless to the destruction they wrought. At least we once were. I no longer submit to the rule of these demons, no longer allowing myself to be hunted by their greed. I have turned the tables on them. Now whispers of a vengeful deity trickle through their ranks, spreading the unease among them. This unease will fester until I strike once more, not as a vengeful deity, but as a huntress bringing justice upon them.

Hale's figure is now fully silhouetted against the morning sun, and from where I am situated in the shadows, I watch him crouch to touch the gravestones one last time. He stands, turning from them and runs his hand through his dark hair, walking towards me. He continues past, just below where I am seated on a low hanging roof. He passes, and I'm struck by the purple lining underneath his angled eyes, signs of the sleepless nights that we unknowingly share. The grim expression he wears adds years to his face. At only twenty-one years he has survived more misery than most will ever experience in their own lifetime. I watch him until he disappears up another street, his figure fading into the morning bustle of the city.

I spend a moment more on the chilled roof before slipping down to the ground and approaching the headstones. Hale has kept them tidy, no dirt to be seen in the lettering, and a neat vase of flowers beside them. Kneeling in the dewy grass, I trace the engraving of my parent's names, only to pause on the third. I thumb over the letters, the weight on my chest choking me. Mynn Jia- "Beloved Daughter, Sister and Friend. Lionheart."

Maybe it should be disturbing, to see your own name on a headstone. To have a glimpse of what your loved ones would display underneath your name. It doesn't disturb me, it never has. The tribute is written about someone who is gone forever, and never coming back. She died the same night that her parents did. I'm not that Jia anymore, I have clawed my way through hell and back just to stand here, and the price I paid was myself. I'm merely here to rid the world of the festering evil that destroyed me, only then will I allow myself to pass on in peace.

The journey back through the city is not unpleasant, rather it calms me as I pull up my hood and cap and melt into the crowded side streets. I become another moving piece of the flowing crowd, nearly indistinguishable from the people beside me. I fumble around in the pocket of my jacket, and flick on my earpiece, already situated in my ear.