Page 1 of To Love a Monster
Chapter One
Lila
My mother looks atme from across the counter.Everything about her is hard.Her stare, her voice, the way she digs manicured fingers into the cool marble.“You want to go alone?To the cabin?”The words fall into the room like dropped pins, and I nod, arms tightening around myself.“Yes.Just for a few weeks.I need the space to focus.”
Her eyes narrow, calculating.“You need to focus to paint?”
“Yes.”I say through clenched teeth, my breath coming out sharper than I intend, defensive and serrated.“I need to start rebuilding my portfolio.If I ever want to get back into galleries, I need the time to work.Without distraction.”
Her hands are still now, a fragile quiet between her fingers and the counter.She sighs, and it’s a precise, careful sound.“Then take Tess.At least for a few days so you’re not completely alone up there.”
I shake my head and close my eyes for a second, trying to steady my voice so I don’t lose it with her for the second time this week.“No.The whole point of going is to be alone.I don’t want company, Mom.I need the quiet to bring out my creativity again.You know how safe it is there, even out of season.We never even close the doors at night.”The silence that stretches between us is thick with unspoken words.“It’s not like I’m disappearing into the wild never to be seen again.I am literally going to find my mojo and I’ll be right back.I’m 23 years old.I am more than capable of spending a few nights alone in a cabin I’ve spent most of my childhood summers enjoying.”
Her eyebrows lift slightly, a small, surgical arch.“It’s still secluded.I don’t know anyone that’s going to be down there this time of year and I’m not comfortable with you being so isolated,” she presses, and I can see the thread of fear she tries so hard to keep hidden.“And you’ve been ...not yourself lately.It’s worrying your father and I.”
A bitter laugh escapes my throat.“That’s because I’m stressed, Mom.I haven’t been able to create anything worth selling in months.Painting is my passion and right now I’m stuck.”My voice turns cold, armor-plated.“And I’m tired of pretending I’m okay in this house.I’m an adult who still lives at home with her parents while she waits for some big break.Everyone I know is either finishing college, exploring the world, getting married, or having kids.I feel like I’m being left behind and I need space to figure out what to do with my life next.Withoutyou and Dad hanging over my shoulder trying to control every decision I make.”
She flinches, her composure breaking like the first crack in thin ice, but the mask returns quickly, even tighter than before.She opens her mouth to say something, but the sound of Dad’s heavy, precise footsteps silences her.
He arrives in the doorway with his presence rather than his words.Even without looking, he commands attention.The lines around his eyes are deep, etched from years of calculated expression.His voice is low, calm, carrying authority in its simplicity.“What’s going on now?”
I want to speak, to shout the words before she can twist them, but my mother answers first, her voice clipped.“She’s going to the cabin.Alone.”
I turn to him, meeting his eyes with a challenge, expecting opposition, waiting for the line that will tell me how this ends.That he has the keys and if she doesn’t want me to go now then I won’t.But it’s not my fault they canceled their trip because of work.He sizes me up like he’s assessing a battlefield, measuring strength and intention.The pause is longer than a heartbeat but less than a breath.“Well, I don’t see what the problem is if you make sure to keep the alarm set at night and keep your phone on.”
My heart slams against my ribs, shocked with disbelief.“I—”
“Steve,” my mother starts, her voice brittle, but he cuts her off with a look.
“She’ll be fine.”He speaks with the finality of a closed door.“We’ve just had the place cleaned, the pantry stocked, the security systems checked.Just because we can’t go anymore doesn’t mean she shouldn’t.”
She searches his face for betrayal, for cracks in the façade, but finds nothing.Only resignation, only steel.When her eyes meet mine, they’re like glassy, polished stones.“Fine.But you better answer when I call you.”
The knot of tension in my chest loosens, barely, and I nod with a softness I hadn’t expected.“I will, I promise.”
The last rays of the day slice through the kitchen windows, casting sharp, dissecting shadows across the floor.She turns from me with the elegance of defeat, her shoulders taut with years of fragile anger.She moves past him without speaking, without looking, leaving a trail of icy silence in her wake.
I breathe out, a careful exhale, watching his face.“Thanks, Dad,” I say.
He holds up a hand, a gesture that is part dismissal, part reassurance, the signal of a general satisfied with his campaign.“Go on.Finish getting ready.I’ll get the keys and leave them here on the counter.”
I nod, a smaller movement this time, a sign that maybe, just maybe, I have some control over my life after all.I turn to leave, my feet feeling weightless and heavy all at once, but he speaks again before I can escape.
“She’s just worried about you, you know.We both are.”
I pause, my hand on the doorframe, and I let the weight of his words settle like dust on forgotten furniture.When I answer, my voice is flat.“I know.”
The moment holds, stretched and fragile for a few seconds before I walk out, footsteps loud against the silence.
****
Idrive with the windowshalf-open, and the cool air bites my face like it wants to leave bruises.I turn the music up and the air fills with guitar and soft vocals.The suburbs fall away like abandoned promises, replaced by thick forest and narrowing roads.
I can still feel the edges of my parents’ house clinging to me, sharp and brittle as a porcelain doll.The scent of lemon cleaner and false affection, the constant pressure of my mother’s gaze.I breathe out, trying to exhale her worry, her doubts, her insistent voice.The air that rushes in is cold and raw—a relief and an ache all at once.
She doesn’t understand why I need to be alone to bring out my creativity that seems to have become dormant.She hates the career path I’ve chosen, always muttering about how I’ve wasted my potential.I grip the wheel tighter, trying to shake off the imagined presence of her beside me.The trees blur by, tall and thin like accusing fingers.I need to put some distance between us, and this is the perfect way to start.
The music drowns out everything.My mother’s fear, my father’s control, the tremor in my voice when I promised to call.Even the wind seems quieter now, reduced to a whisper that barely reaches my ears.
