Monster Love: An Original Fic, based on a true story, about child abuse.
Ten year old Scarlett Quincy leapt from her bed, to huddle down in the farthest corner of her room, the one closest to the outside, to the world, when she heard her mother’s angry steps, calling out her name.
It was time to pay for her father’s death.
She held onto her face, muffling her own cries, hoping that her mother would soon forget about her in her drunken despair. The worst time of the day was when her friend’s parents asked her if she should be getting home soon, it was after five, and she wouldn’t want to keep her parents waiting for dinner.
Usually she stayed in the rural area just outside her neighborhood and waited until dark to come home. But it was winter, the ice covered up the path, and made the trek through the hills outside her home dangerous, and she’d be frozen in just a few short hours.
She had heard stories of kids running away and dying in the woods because of the freezing temperatures, and while she couldn’t stomach home, the thought of dying scared Scarlett more.
Sometimes she’d go to the stores, where there was heat, and usually no mother in sight. She’d duck through aisles when she saw the workers who behind their smiles of “Are you lost, little girl?” held the keys to her prison. They knew her, her mother frequently dragged her in the days before… before her mother became what she is.
She was bound to be hurt worst if she was found in the store… so that’s why it had come to crouching in the back of her closet, behind her clothes, her own hand muffling her traitorous breaths.
She had long ago learned what happens if strangers got involved in their little lives. She found out when in her 3rd grade class she couldn’t stop weeping, and her mother was called, and she told the teacher who had mistaken her tears for the recent passing of her father, the truth. When her mother was called, she took her home, and added a few more hours onto her prison cell, her mother called and told her teacher she was sick, when the bruises appeared too dark and in too obvious places. When she came back to school, her mother made her apologize to her young concerned teacher for making up stories, because she didn’t want people to know that she was crying because of her apparent fever. Her teacher looked at her with those sad, cold eyes that were so present at her father’s funeral, and after, her teacher refused to meet her eyes again. She silently pled out to every adult in those days to save her from her mother’s wrath. But after that beating, after those bruises, she knew that she had to remain silent.
That’s how she got the label of being “the sad, shy girl” at the back of classroom.
The footsteps got closer to her room, and Scarlett thought of the nearest escape… she could deal with the cold for a couple more hours, it had stopped snowing, and maybe no one would notice a young girl walking around in the cold…
The door creaked open and footsteps pounded dangerously close, her only prayer of making it through the night, now relied on her mother leaving her room without noticing her.
She held onto her face harder, and quietly coped with the pain of sitting still for so long, her bottom was sore because of the hardwood floor, but she wasn’t going to move for anything.
The footsteps got closer to the door, and peaking out from behind her dresses, she could see her mother in the crack of the closet door, a smile on her face, wrong from the one, before her father had left them. “Scarlett?” Her mother called out, her smile plaster through the name. “Let’s get some ice cream… I know you’re in there…” She watched her mother disappear from the crack and hoped to god that it wasn’t to pull open the closet’s doors. She heard her mother’s heels click-clack across the floor, taking more steps than it took to open the door. When the room darkened, Scarlett unknowingly relaxed, into the dresses, which caused the metal hangers holding them to clack into each other.
The light turned back on, She heard the rapid steps rushing to the closet and realized when she let out an “eep” that she had taken her hand off of her mouth way too early.
The closet doors opened up with blinding light and the dark outline of her mother, her hands reaching across the width of the closet. She looked bigger than usual, and Scarlett recoiled back in the closet, at having been discovered, and braced herself for the slap she knew was coming. Her cheeks still red from holding her own mouth. Her mother smiled, the white’s of her eyes seemed to glow devilishly bright in the darkness of her silhouette.
“Scarlett, stop playing in the closet! It’s time for dinner.” Her mother said smiling way too bright. “You’re a little old to be playing hide and go seek!” She said laughing, her laughter bringing the ghost of her old mother into her face. Scarlett reached out, tentatively, wondering if this was the same one who had called in sick to work, when she woke up sick… who held her for those two days of illness… who made her favorite dinner the entire week of her birthday 2 years ago.
Her mother grabbed her arm, and laughed, “So I’m supposed to just haul you out am I?” she said, gently pulling her up. Scarlett’s eyes began to water… after so long, she was back! She dove right for her mother’s waist, latching on hard, before quietly sobbing.
Her mother’s smile fell, “What’s wrong baby?”
Scarlett looked up to her mother, her eyes were a little more tired, her smile a little bit more sad, but Scarlett recognized this as the woman who she knew from right after her father’s death, before the monster. The young, sad widow.
“Nothing Mama. I missed you.” She said, looking up at her mother, meet her eyes, a genuine smile.
“Oh, I was only at work, Scarlett.” She said, laughing.
Scarlett dropped her hug, stepping back.
“Hon. What’s wrong?” Her ghostly mother asked.
“Maybe this time you could stay.” Scarlett replied.
“I can’t miss work, you know that.”
“I wasn’t talking about that. Let’s go watch a movie. You can pick.”
“That’s so thoughtful. What did I ever do to deserve you.”
Scarlett was already in front, exiting the room. Trying to ignore the bitter taste in her mouth. She was here, this time. She was going to try her hardest not to let the monster return.
It was time to pay for her father’s death.
She held onto her face, muffling her own cries, hoping that her mother would soon forget about her in her drunken despair. The worst time of the day was when her friend’s parents asked her if she should be getting home soon, it was after five, and she wouldn’t want to keep her parents waiting for dinner.
Usually she stayed in the rural area just outside her neighborhood and waited until dark to come home. But it was winter, the ice covered up the path, and made the trek through the hills outside her home dangerous, and she’d be frozen in just a few short hours.
She had heard stories of kids running away and dying in the woods because of the freezing temperatures, and while she couldn’t stomach home, the thought of dying scared Scarlett more.
Sometimes she’d go to the stores, where there was heat, and usually no mother in sight. She’d duck through aisles when she saw the workers who behind their smiles of “Are you lost, little girl?” held the keys to her prison. They knew her, her mother frequently dragged her in the days before… before her mother became what she is.
She was bound to be hurt worst if she was found in the store… so that’s why it had come to crouching in the back of her closet, behind her clothes, her own hand muffling her traitorous breaths.
She had long ago learned what happens if strangers got involved in their little lives. She found out when in her 3rd grade class she couldn’t stop weeping, and her mother was called, and she told the teacher who had mistaken her tears for the recent passing of her father, the truth. When her mother was called, she took her home, and added a few more hours onto her prison cell, her mother called and told her teacher she was sick, when the bruises appeared too dark and in too obvious places. When she came back to school, her mother made her apologize to her young concerned teacher for making up stories, because she didn’t want people to know that she was crying because of her apparent fever. Her teacher looked at her with those sad, cold eyes that were so present at her father’s funeral, and after, her teacher refused to meet her eyes again. She silently pled out to every adult in those days to save her from her mother’s wrath. But after that beating, after those bruises, she knew that she had to remain silent.
That’s how she got the label of being “the sad, shy girl” at the back of classroom.
The footsteps got closer to her room, and Scarlett thought of the nearest escape… she could deal with the cold for a couple more hours, it had stopped snowing, and maybe no one would notice a young girl walking around in the cold…
The door creaked open and footsteps pounded dangerously close, her only prayer of making it through the night, now relied on her mother leaving her room without noticing her.
She held onto her face harder, and quietly coped with the pain of sitting still for so long, her bottom was sore because of the hardwood floor, but she wasn’t going to move for anything.
The footsteps got closer to the door, and peaking out from behind her dresses, she could see her mother in the crack of the closet door, a smile on her face, wrong from the one, before her father had left them. “Scarlett?” Her mother called out, her smile plaster through the name. “Let’s get some ice cream… I know you’re in there…” She watched her mother disappear from the crack and hoped to god that it wasn’t to pull open the closet’s doors. She heard her mother’s heels click-clack across the floor, taking more steps than it took to open the door. When the room darkened, Scarlett unknowingly relaxed, into the dresses, which caused the metal hangers holding them to clack into each other.
The light turned back on, She heard the rapid steps rushing to the closet and realized when she let out an “eep” that she had taken her hand off of her mouth way too early.
The closet doors opened up with blinding light and the dark outline of her mother, her hands reaching across the width of the closet. She looked bigger than usual, and Scarlett recoiled back in the closet, at having been discovered, and braced herself for the slap she knew was coming. Her cheeks still red from holding her own mouth. Her mother smiled, the white’s of her eyes seemed to glow devilishly bright in the darkness of her silhouette.
“Scarlett, stop playing in the closet! It’s time for dinner.” Her mother said smiling way too bright. “You’re a little old to be playing hide and go seek!” She said laughing, her laughter bringing the ghost of her old mother into her face. Scarlett reached out, tentatively, wondering if this was the same one who had called in sick to work, when she woke up sick… who held her for those two days of illness… who made her favorite dinner the entire week of her birthday 2 years ago.
Her mother grabbed her arm, and laughed, “So I’m supposed to just haul you out am I?” she said, gently pulling her up. Scarlett’s eyes began to water… after so long, she was back! She dove right for her mother’s waist, latching on hard, before quietly sobbing.
Her mother’s smile fell, “What’s wrong baby?”
Scarlett looked up to her mother, her eyes were a little more tired, her smile a little bit more sad, but Scarlett recognized this as the woman who she knew from right after her father’s death, before the monster. The young, sad widow.
“Nothing Mama. I missed you.” She said, looking up at her mother, meet her eyes, a genuine smile.
“Oh, I was only at work, Scarlett.” She said, laughing.
Scarlett dropped her hug, stepping back.
“Hon. What’s wrong?” Her ghostly mother asked.
“Maybe this time you could stay.” Scarlett replied.
“I can’t miss work, you know that.”
“I wasn’t talking about that. Let’s go watch a movie. You can pick.”
“That’s so thoughtful. What did I ever do to deserve you.”
Scarlett was already in front, exiting the room. Trying to ignore the bitter taste in her mouth. She was here, this time. She was going to try her hardest not to let the monster return.