Status: One-shot
Monster
is what's carved upon my skin
Monster.
That was what he hissed to me while my hands and feet were bound and my mouth was full of the cloth that prevented me from screaming. I glared at him, wondering how he found out. Did he stalk me? Did he steal my diary? And why did he care?
When the car finally parked somewhere, he yanked me out and dragged me into an abandoned shed. When the door was closed, he turned to me and screwed his face up into a disgusted sneer. I didn’t even know who he was but he clearly knew me.
Monster.
He brought out a knife and I whimpered as he ripped off my clothes, and took away the cloth in my mouth and the rope round my limbs. My bare skin, all lain out for him to see. Maybe I should’ve expected him to rape me but I didn’t, and he didn’t. What he did was worse in ways, the physical pain of it so terrible.
The knife cut into me, deep enough to draw blood but not deep enough to kill me. Deep enough for it to hurt rather than feel good like pain usually feels to me. And he cut and he cut and he cut. It went on through the night and then the day and then another night. He did take breaks occasionally.
Monster.
That was what he scrawled all over my body into my flesh. On my arms, on my legs, on my stomach, on my face, on my breasts – everywhere. Blood dripped from the cuts, although some were starting to heal, the ones he’d started with. Obviously, the ones he finished with were bleeding the most.
When the last one was finally carved into my skin, he took a deep breath and drew away. I stayed, lying upon the floor, my body sprawled out, my head to the side. A tear fell down my cheek but that was the only tear I’d shed. But I’d screamed, oh, how I’d screamed.
Monster.
That word, that horrible word, would be scrawled on every inch of my body forever. It was clear the cuts would scar. And as he dragged me back into the car, drove me back to where I lived, he still held that disgusted sneer on his face. I felt nothing but pain.
I didn’t even get out of the car when he stopped, I was too far in the pain. He had to drag me out and he threw me to the ground outside the school. Why the school? I wanted to ask but again, I was too far in the pain. I watched from the ground as he drove away.
Monster.
I didn’t know how many people read that on my skin as they crowded around my naked body. He didn’t even give me back my clothes. And the people who crowded around me, I knew most of them. This was my school after all. I blinked, too far in the pain to cover myself.
The screams started up soon after most people had gotten a glimpse of me. Some of them asked if I was dead, but I blinked at them and they figured it out. One of the boys took of their shirt and covered me with it. And then someone screamed to get someone – I recognised the name.
Monster.
Would that be what he thought of me after he sees me like this, the guy they called the name of? But he loved me, surely he wouldn’t. I hoped not anyway. I didn’t want to lose the one person who just might be able to get me through this. And then he arrived.
His face was pale, probably had been since the moment he heard of my disappearance. His face paled even more when he saw me but then he sat down beside me and held me hand, despite the gross cuts, and he whispered in awe that I was alive, I was alive!
Monster.
That was what I whispered to him, the first word since my screams, my god awful screams. I’m a monster. And his face changed and he told me no I wasn’t, the person who did this to me was the monster, not me, never me. I stared at him, begging it to be true.
And then he put his face close to mine and whispered, Stop looking so pained, because it hurt him, oh, it hurt him. I didn’t want to hurt him so I creased my face into a smile, even though it felt like every single cut on my face was ripping open again. I smiled for him and I smiled because I was alive.
Monster.
I didn’t care that I’d wear that word on my skin every day for the rest of my life or that strangers would stare at me on the street or that I was a monster who thought bad things. I knew I probably wouldn’t think those thoughts again, not ever.
I smiled at my love, lying on the ground and carved with words, because he was right there with me. I smiled because I was still alive, scarred – both physically and mentally – but completely alive. I smiled and smiled and smiled because I knew I’d never become a
Monster.
That was what he hissed to me while my hands and feet were bound and my mouth was full of the cloth that prevented me from screaming. I glared at him, wondering how he found out. Did he stalk me? Did he steal my diary? And why did he care?
When the car finally parked somewhere, he yanked me out and dragged me into an abandoned shed. When the door was closed, he turned to me and screwed his face up into a disgusted sneer. I didn’t even know who he was but he clearly knew me.
Monster.
He brought out a knife and I whimpered as he ripped off my clothes, and took away the cloth in my mouth and the rope round my limbs. My bare skin, all lain out for him to see. Maybe I should’ve expected him to rape me but I didn’t, and he didn’t. What he did was worse in ways, the physical pain of it so terrible.
The knife cut into me, deep enough to draw blood but not deep enough to kill me. Deep enough for it to hurt rather than feel good like pain usually feels to me. And he cut and he cut and he cut. It went on through the night and then the day and then another night. He did take breaks occasionally.
Monster.
That was what he scrawled all over my body into my flesh. On my arms, on my legs, on my stomach, on my face, on my breasts – everywhere. Blood dripped from the cuts, although some were starting to heal, the ones he’d started with. Obviously, the ones he finished with were bleeding the most.
When the last one was finally carved into my skin, he took a deep breath and drew away. I stayed, lying upon the floor, my body sprawled out, my head to the side. A tear fell down my cheek but that was the only tear I’d shed. But I’d screamed, oh, how I’d screamed.
Monster.
That word, that horrible word, would be scrawled on every inch of my body forever. It was clear the cuts would scar. And as he dragged me back into the car, drove me back to where I lived, he still held that disgusted sneer on his face. I felt nothing but pain.
I didn’t even get out of the car when he stopped, I was too far in the pain. He had to drag me out and he threw me to the ground outside the school. Why the school? I wanted to ask but again, I was too far in the pain. I watched from the ground as he drove away.
Monster.
I didn’t know how many people read that on my skin as they crowded around my naked body. He didn’t even give me back my clothes. And the people who crowded around me, I knew most of them. This was my school after all. I blinked, too far in the pain to cover myself.
The screams started up soon after most people had gotten a glimpse of me. Some of them asked if I was dead, but I blinked at them and they figured it out. One of the boys took of their shirt and covered me with it. And then someone screamed to get someone – I recognised the name.
Monster.
Would that be what he thought of me after he sees me like this, the guy they called the name of? But he loved me, surely he wouldn’t. I hoped not anyway. I didn’t want to lose the one person who just might be able to get me through this. And then he arrived.
His face was pale, probably had been since the moment he heard of my disappearance. His face paled even more when he saw me but then he sat down beside me and held me hand, despite the gross cuts, and he whispered in awe that I was alive, I was alive!
Monster.
That was what I whispered to him, the first word since my screams, my god awful screams. I’m a monster. And his face changed and he told me no I wasn’t, the person who did this to me was the monster, not me, never me. I stared at him, begging it to be true.
And then he put his face close to mine and whispered, Stop looking so pained, because it hurt him, oh, it hurt him. I didn’t want to hurt him so I creased my face into a smile, even though it felt like every single cut on my face was ripping open again. I smiled for him and I smiled because I was alive.
Monster.
I didn’t care that I’d wear that word on my skin every day for the rest of my life or that strangers would stare at me on the street or that I was a monster who thought bad things. I knew I probably wouldn’t think those thoughts again, not ever.
I smiled at my love, lying on the ground and carved with words, because he was right there with me. I smiled because I was still alive, scarred – both physically and mentally – but completely alive. I smiled and smiled and smiled because I knew I’d never become a
Monster.