Seeing Monsters
01.
Some nightmares come and go. Some rot away in your mind until they're just gone and others... other nightmares taunt you with the reality that they're true until you feel like you're going suffocate from the harsh and blunt actuality that you are just reliving the hurt over and over again.
That's what happened to me before I was tossed here to wither away with my own mind. They didn't believe me, they didn't care about me, I was just another insane 19 year old that had been tossed out onto the street for God knows what.
But what happened was real no matter how much I try to deny it. What he did to me still haunts me and the grime from his touch still lingers on my skin, no matter how many times I rub my skin raw under the weak, but scolding, water of the shower in my beautiful white bathroom.
But I feel safe here. Because he can't get me from inside of these pristine white walls, something that evil would burn in hell the second he stepped foot onto the polished floors. I can put up with the looks of the people who work here if I never have to see that smirk ever again. The smirk that still has my skin crawling when I think of it, when I picture it, when I reminisce back to those days when that chocolate eyed monster kept me locked in his basement for his own, sick, masochistic enjoyment.
And it's then that nurses rush in begging and pleading with me to calm down, but I can't hear them, my mind is already too far away to be pulled back from those horrid days and fearful nights.
"It's your fucking nightmare!" He shouted, advancing towards me after I asked him in a brave voice what all of this was. Why a couple of his goons had grabbed me off of the street and thrown me into a basement with several other girls who were clad only in shackles that attached by chains to the walls. I cowered in to myself, desperate to stay away from the broken girls with hollow eyes. Yet some stared at me while others seemed to be trying to fade into the cool concrete walls as this man approached.
My eyes ran over him in curiosity and partially in fear when he turned to scream in the terrified face of a young girl as she braced herself against the grey wall. But too soon it turned into his fist against her young, tattered skin. Her sunken eyes snapped shut with the pain that I could see on her features and her short red hair flew every where as the monster beat her over and over again. I stared in horror as the women around me looked away in silence and didn't say a single word to the man who's brown hair stood straight up in the air.
I gathered all I could before I spoke, "Knock it off!" I shouted in a bravery that I could only call fake or made up. I watched him stop immediately, "What has she done to you! She's just a child!" I screamed, balling my fists at my sides as I stood up from the ground that he had thrown me to.
I shivered slightly when his dark eyes turned to me in a glare and he sent one last sneer at the nude, battered girl before he turned to me completely and tilted his head to the side like a mad man.
"She was born," He growled, the intensity in his voice made me retract my thoughts. He wasn't a mad man, he was a monster, a cruel, gruesome monster like the ones that he had forever tattooed onto his arms so that the outside of him could reflect what he was on the inside. Those tattoos were a warning for the world, they were shouting, 'I am a monster!' and yet no one listened, no one saw past the vibrant colors.
He took another step towards me then another and another until he was standing merely inches in front of me, glaring down at me with hard brown eyes. I didn't move or sink back like all the other damaged girls and women that littered the dark room. I stood there and looked into his dark eyes, burying all fear that attempted to surface and would surely have me breaking down and requesting death.
"And what have I done to you?" I questioned, my voice shaking as I spoke. I could feel my hands begin to sweat when he didn't reply. I wiped the palm of my hands against the scratchy denim of my faded, baggy jeans that had become my favorite because of all the places I wore them to and all the memories that had been stuffed in the seams.
"You've been a horrible person," He whispered calmly, ripping me away from the thoughts of better days. "You're filthy," He continued, never talking louder then a calm whisper that frightened me more then the yelling, because I was used to being yelled at.
"And you aren't?" I challenged in the same tone of voice, "You think you're some kind of saint? That you collect 'filthy girls' and lock them away so that no one else can see our ugliness? Is that what you do?"
The monster who stood in disguise as a man gave me a swift punch to the jaw as my only reply. And as the sickening crack sounded in the dark basement a smirk grew on his lips and he backed away from me, looking over all the naked girls that cowered away from him as they sat on the grimy floor.
I was sprawled out on the ground, my hand to my jaw as I looked up at the man as he chuckled darkly, a corrupt glint in his eyes as he smirked down at us. He was quiet for a moment and then all at once he spoke like he was something noble,
"That's right," He chuckled, "You all are looking up to me, now," His voice grew darker as he continued to talk, to bellow, "You're scum. You're dirty. You're useless. And you all look up to me."
I watched as his eyes roamed over every crevice of every girl and for the first time, I was thankful for the stained clothing that covered my body. The old sweatshirt that I had gotten years ago before my parents threw me out and the jeans, the 'lucky' jeans. How ironic.
"Look at me!" He demanded, rushing forward and grabbing my jaw roughly.
I cried out in pain as he made me look up at him, his pierced nostril flaring and his eyes shining for some sick reason.
"Not so tough now, are we?" He laughed, cruelly, slapping my face away as unwanted tears rolled down my grubby cheeks. "Not so tough at all," He concluded, smiling to himself as he walked toward the creaky, wooden stairs. He turned back to look at me with one tattooed hand resting on the splintering railing and the other shoved deep inside of his black hoodie, "This is the beginning of all your nightmares..."
As he left I looked around me. I stared at every girl that seemed to be just a hollow shell of the woman they used to be.
"I promise," I murmured to myself, fiercely, "I won't end up like them!"
I woke from my nightmare in my own white bed and as I looked up I screamed loudly seeing that haunting man watching over me once again from the farthest corner of the room. A nurse with white hair came hurrying in, used to my nightmares.
"Honey," She cooed, pulling me to her so my face was pressed against her white cotton shirt, and smoothed down my frizzy black hair.
"He's here, The monster is here," I stuttered with a raw voice and pointed to the darkest corner of my safe-haven. She looked over and then to me once again, "No ones there, honey. No monsters," She soothed before telling me to get some rest and leaving the room, whispering lies under her breath about my medicine in-take causing delusions.
I shook my head and climbed under the sheet, staring at the monster in the corner with wide blue eyes as he smirked at me, clicking his tongue in disappointment. I watched in fear, bringing my hands up to rub at my eyes and the bags that sat underneath them.
"Go away," I whispered quietly, shutting my eyes and opening them. Once, twice, the monster with the smirk was gone.
That's what happened to me before I was tossed here to wither away with my own mind. They didn't believe me, they didn't care about me, I was just another insane 19 year old that had been tossed out onto the street for God knows what.
But what happened was real no matter how much I try to deny it. What he did to me still haunts me and the grime from his touch still lingers on my skin, no matter how many times I rub my skin raw under the weak, but scolding, water of the shower in my beautiful white bathroom.
But I feel safe here. Because he can't get me from inside of these pristine white walls, something that evil would burn in hell the second he stepped foot onto the polished floors. I can put up with the looks of the people who work here if I never have to see that smirk ever again. The smirk that still has my skin crawling when I think of it, when I picture it, when I reminisce back to those days when that chocolate eyed monster kept me locked in his basement for his own, sick, masochistic enjoyment.
And it's then that nurses rush in begging and pleading with me to calm down, but I can't hear them, my mind is already too far away to be pulled back from those horrid days and fearful nights.
"It's your fucking nightmare!" He shouted, advancing towards me after I asked him in a brave voice what all of this was. Why a couple of his goons had grabbed me off of the street and thrown me into a basement with several other girls who were clad only in shackles that attached by chains to the walls. I cowered in to myself, desperate to stay away from the broken girls with hollow eyes. Yet some stared at me while others seemed to be trying to fade into the cool concrete walls as this man approached.
My eyes ran over him in curiosity and partially in fear when he turned to scream in the terrified face of a young girl as she braced herself against the grey wall. But too soon it turned into his fist against her young, tattered skin. Her sunken eyes snapped shut with the pain that I could see on her features and her short red hair flew every where as the monster beat her over and over again. I stared in horror as the women around me looked away in silence and didn't say a single word to the man who's brown hair stood straight up in the air.
I gathered all I could before I spoke, "Knock it off!" I shouted in a bravery that I could only call fake or made up. I watched him stop immediately, "What has she done to you! She's just a child!" I screamed, balling my fists at my sides as I stood up from the ground that he had thrown me to.
I shivered slightly when his dark eyes turned to me in a glare and he sent one last sneer at the nude, battered girl before he turned to me completely and tilted his head to the side like a mad man.
"She was born," He growled, the intensity in his voice made me retract my thoughts. He wasn't a mad man, he was a monster, a cruel, gruesome monster like the ones that he had forever tattooed onto his arms so that the outside of him could reflect what he was on the inside. Those tattoos were a warning for the world, they were shouting, 'I am a monster!' and yet no one listened, no one saw past the vibrant colors.
He took another step towards me then another and another until he was standing merely inches in front of me, glaring down at me with hard brown eyes. I didn't move or sink back like all the other damaged girls and women that littered the dark room. I stood there and looked into his dark eyes, burying all fear that attempted to surface and would surely have me breaking down and requesting death.
"And what have I done to you?" I questioned, my voice shaking as I spoke. I could feel my hands begin to sweat when he didn't reply. I wiped the palm of my hands against the scratchy denim of my faded, baggy jeans that had become my favorite because of all the places I wore them to and all the memories that had been stuffed in the seams.
"You've been a horrible person," He whispered calmly, ripping me away from the thoughts of better days. "You're filthy," He continued, never talking louder then a calm whisper that frightened me more then the yelling, because I was used to being yelled at.
"And you aren't?" I challenged in the same tone of voice, "You think you're some kind of saint? That you collect 'filthy girls' and lock them away so that no one else can see our ugliness? Is that what you do?"
The monster who stood in disguise as a man gave me a swift punch to the jaw as my only reply. And as the sickening crack sounded in the dark basement a smirk grew on his lips and he backed away from me, looking over all the naked girls that cowered away from him as they sat on the grimy floor.
I was sprawled out on the ground, my hand to my jaw as I looked up at the man as he chuckled darkly, a corrupt glint in his eyes as he smirked down at us. He was quiet for a moment and then all at once he spoke like he was something noble,
"That's right," He chuckled, "You all are looking up to me, now," His voice grew darker as he continued to talk, to bellow, "You're scum. You're dirty. You're useless. And you all look up to me."
I watched as his eyes roamed over every crevice of every girl and for the first time, I was thankful for the stained clothing that covered my body. The old sweatshirt that I had gotten years ago before my parents threw me out and the jeans, the 'lucky' jeans. How ironic.
"Look at me!" He demanded, rushing forward and grabbing my jaw roughly.
I cried out in pain as he made me look up at him, his pierced nostril flaring and his eyes shining for some sick reason.
"Not so tough now, are we?" He laughed, cruelly, slapping my face away as unwanted tears rolled down my grubby cheeks. "Not so tough at all," He concluded, smiling to himself as he walked toward the creaky, wooden stairs. He turned back to look at me with one tattooed hand resting on the splintering railing and the other shoved deep inside of his black hoodie, "This is the beginning of all your nightmares..."
As he left I looked around me. I stared at every girl that seemed to be just a hollow shell of the woman they used to be.
"I promise," I murmured to myself, fiercely, "I won't end up like them!"
I woke from my nightmare in my own white bed and as I looked up I screamed loudly seeing that haunting man watching over me once again from the farthest corner of the room. A nurse with white hair came hurrying in, used to my nightmares.
"Honey," She cooed, pulling me to her so my face was pressed against her white cotton shirt, and smoothed down my frizzy black hair.
"He's here, The monster is here," I stuttered with a raw voice and pointed to the darkest corner of my safe-haven. She looked over and then to me once again, "No ones there, honey. No monsters," She soothed before telling me to get some rest and leaving the room, whispering lies under her breath about my medicine in-take causing delusions.
I shook my head and climbed under the sheet, staring at the monster in the corner with wide blue eyes as he smirked at me, clicking his tongue in disappointment. I watched in fear, bringing my hands up to rub at my eyes and the bags that sat underneath them.
"Go away," I whispered quietly, shutting my eyes and opening them. Once, twice, the monster with the smirk was gone.