Page 30 of Poison Aches

Well, would you look at that. A wondering, curious little thing believes in ghost stories about monsters in the shadows.

“Pandora.”

“What?” she squeaks.

“Have you ever heard about Pandora’s box?”

“Well…not right now but if it’s a story in a book, I’ll find out soon.”

A bookworm.

A curious thing.

She’s trouble, this girl. I have to be careful with how I handle this.

Let the games begin then.

“You obviously think I’m the monster your brother told you about, right?” She nods. “So why aren’t you afraid? Shouldn’t you be running for the hills?”

The girl peeps at me as if she’s shy, then she whispers ever so gently, “I don’t think it’s possible to outrun a monster.”

I stare at her, stunned by her words, but she’s not done.

“I know that if I can’t outrun the monster, I have to hurt him at the very least.”

The thing in my chest thundershardagainst the battered wall of my chest for the first time in a long time.

From the corner of my eye, I look at the screen of the heart monitor machine. The line is heightened like it’s never been before. I track my eyes back to the girl.

“Why?” I snarl.

“Because that way, if I go down, I’ll go down knowing that the monster also felt the same pain of being in danger.”

Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like we’re talking fictional, made-up folklore that’s been passed around Westbrook Blues to keep interested parties away.

It doesn’t feel like I’m talking to a kid three years younger than me.

It feels like… I don’t know what it feels like.

“You’d rather cause the monster pain than run or mind your fucking business,” I grit out, each word feeling like it’s being extracted out of me by a rusty old knife. “Is that what you thought was the best plan?”

She nods eagerly, her eyes bright as if that was the best answer, but I just glare at her, realizing my hate for her is just growing by the second.

A naïve girl that doesn’t understand the weight of the words she just uttered.

She couldn’t outrun me, huh? I’m going to make sure she comes to know the full extent of what those words mean.

“But I don’t think you’re a monster!” she blurts out suddenly. “You’re a person… just like me, so there’s no way you’re a monster.”

“Do you think so?” I press, a fire igniting in my veins.

“Yes!” she says cheerfully.

Well, let me prove that point wrong and show you how fucking ridiculous you are, little girl.

“Come here.”

“What?” she gasps.

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