Page 9 of Monsters
“You’re looking for answers where there are none, Evelyn. Sometimes, bad people do bad things. As a man of God, it’s been the hardest realization to accept. I don’t think these people are born evil, but over the years, their souls decay—slowly—until they can no longer figure out what’s right or wrong.” He sighs and leans back, looking out over the railing. “I don’t hate Auguste anymore. I feel sorry for him. Don’t hear me wrong here. I hatewhathe did and how he justified it. I hate how many lives he destroyed”—he nods at me—“and nearly destroyed. But I feel sorry that he was so lost in his depravity too.”
I nod. “Yeah, but you’re a better person than me. I want him to rot in hell.” Swallowing thickly, I shake my head. “I want them all to rot in hell.” I pause and look around. “That’s why I came here. I want to learn, to understand, in my own way. I want someone to provide context for me so I can comprehendwhy. Deep down, I need an explanation.”
Salem rubs his lip with his hand. “I understand. The scars that run the deepest are always the hardest to heal.”
I look at my hands. “I guess I’m not ready to accept that it was all random—that there’s no reason behind the madness.”
“Whenever you find what you’re looking for—whatever that may be—you’ll recognize none of it was ever random.” He places his joined hands against his mouth, as if in prayer. “It’s a weird notion to believe in fate. But how else are we ever supposed to find peace in our lives?”
“You’re right. And I’m not ready to accept that.”
I’m not ready to accept a lot of things—the brooding man with the dark irises being one of them.
He watches me with concern as he stands. I never feel judged with him, but every once in a while, his gazes seem very concerned and brotherly. After all, he urged Lily to keep looking for me. Believed I wasn’t dead when so many had given up. He means well, but the need to protect me—something he and Lily both do—is still potent.
If only they knew the things I’d done…
“I should go. I’m visiting a friend in London. Why don’t you come over tonight after class? We’re renting a fantastic flat near campus.”
“Yeah, sounds good. What can I bring?”
“Just yourself.” His smile is so genuine. My throat constricts. I don’t talk to my family anymore. When I disappeared, they cashed in on selling stories about my upbringing to various gossip magazines. Salem and Lily—and now Delilah—are the only people I consider family. They visit often, and every couple of months I receive mysterious care packages that include my favorite things from home—boxed mac and cheese, ritz crackers, cheese whiz, BBQ sauce, Pop Tarts, canned pumpkin, Cafe Bustelo, and marshmallow fluff. It’s always a random assortment of things only Lily would know I love, and it’s nice to feel like someone’s looking out for me.
I wave him away and look around after he’s gone. I stick the book—The Ceremonies—into my bag. I won’t be able to fully concentrate here, so I’ll take it home with me.
I promise to obey all rules of the Library.
I tell myself I’ll bring it back, eventually.
I start to pack my things, suddenly unable to focus. I let Salem’s advice roll through me. I should forgive and move on. I should probably stop looking for answers. After all, if I never heal my wounds, I will keep bleeding my trauma all over everyone.
And I should definitely stop doing the reckless things I’ve been prone to doing—the things that could get me killed one day.
But a big part of me—much bigger than I’d like to admit—needs a reason. A reason I was forced to became Eve Winters. A reason I was expected to do whatever, whenever, with whichever deviant scum Auguste Martingaveme to. Night after night after night… for three years.
So, I still need a reason—to know it wasn’t my fault—and revenge.
I’m not like Zoey, who can rise from the ashes and start over. And I’m not as inherently good as Salem, who can find forgiveness. Even Lily, tasked with motherhood, seems light,happy.
The things you hide in your heart, eat you alive. I learned long ago to ignore the part of me that always tries to find the good in people. I figured out the hard way that only demons existed.
And my mind wouldn’t rest until I knew why.
The Son of a Monster
Evelyn Snow
Oxford,Present
Later that night, I knock on the old, wooden door of the flat Lily is staying in with Salem and Delilah. Before anyone opens up, I hear a high-pitched screech, followed by a thud, and Lily’s low murmur gets closer and closer to where I’m standing. When she swings the door open, a piece of hair falls in front of her heart-shaped face. She blows it away, exasperated.
“Oh, thank god,” she says, sighing and standing to the side to let me in. Once she closes the door with her hip, she gestures to Delilah, who is sitting on the floor sobbing. “I swear, she’s trying to kill me.” I try not to laugh as Lily leans against the counter. Her hair is piled haphazardly atop her head, and her face is makeup free. She’s wearing pajamas, and I don’t have the heart to tell her that she has toothpaste on her chin. “God forbid I tell her not to lick the outlets.” She throws me awhat the fucklook and moves to the kitchen. “Anywho, what do you want to drink? I’ll be having one large bottle of wine,” she declares, grabbing two wine glasses.
“That’s fine. Whatever’s easiest.” Smiling, I set my bag and the cookies I picked up on the counter. Bending down, I squat in front of Delilah as Lily pours us wine.
“What’s wrong, love?” I ask, reaching out and brushing Delilah’s hair out of her face. She looks at me and pouts. I try not to laugh—she’s Salem’s clone. Reddish brown hair, crystal blue eyes, pale complexion. Even her nose shape is his.
“Nothing,” she whimpers, crossing her arms and huffing.
