Monster

Monster

By Nikki Reiter

Copyright 2024 by Nikki Reiter

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Twelve

I don’t want to do this anymore. I feel like a corpse, rotting, dead. I am not living. He made sure of that. I am hanging on by a single decaying thread. I don’t want to continue like this anymore. Feeling dead. I am trapped in this darkness. It doesn’t have a future. All I can do is enter a dream and pray that I will never wake up.

I no longer exist to the outside world.

He has me here. Trapped in the darkness, alone and isolated.

I don’t know where here is. I wish I could say, but I don’t know. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. It feels like years, but it could be months, maybe even weeks. I don’t know.

He has robbed me of everything, including my name. I never thought that was possible. He calls me Twelve. I don’t know if that is my actual name. I don’t think it is. Right now, I just can’t remember.

That’s the only thing he calls me, Twelve, with his icy, cold voice. It sends chills down my spine. Every time he speaks it. Twelve.

Twelve. That is not my name! It can’t be!

It can’t be.

I am not Twelve.

Instead, I call myself Mandy.

I don’t know if that is my actual name. Maybe it’s some made-up memory. Mandy. I dwell on that name, and it makes me feel human. I was born human, at least I think I was, but now I am a scared animal locked up in a cage.

My life is trivial. Nothing about me matters. He’s made sure of that. I don’t matter, not to him. Not to the outside word. He is the only one that exists.

I can see his deranged, maniacal look. It is embedded in the darkness. It is the only thing that I can see. I lie here, cold and naked, on a hard cement floor. My hands and feet are tied. I have duct tape over my eyes.

I can feel him in me. I can taste him on my lips. My stomach churns as I repress the urge to vomit. I feel sick and filthy.

I just want it to end. I fantasize about chomping down on my tongue. I wonder how long it would take to bleed out.

I don’t do it.

I can’t.

I keep going. I don’t know how I have the energy to keep going, but I do. I can’t fight back. I won’t. I won’t give him the satisfaction that he’s broken me, dehumanized me, made into this filthy pathetic shell. I just lie here, too weak and too tired.

I don’t have any warmth left inside of me. I feel like I have freezing-cold water running through my veins. I want him to kill me. Why doesn’t he just end it and get it over with? Even when he is not around, I can feel his hands wrapped around my throat, squelching the life out of me. He holds me captive in the darkness. I can’t break free from his grip. He is too strong. I’m gasping for air, but there is none.

I haven’t slept for ages. I tremble at every sound. He tries to break me. I won’t let him. I can’t.

Twelve. Every time he calls me that, I shout out, Mandy! My name is Mandy!

My name is Mandy. Even if it is not, it definitely isn’t Twelve.

My name is Mandy. I repeat it to myself. If I can just will myself to believe that my name is Mandy and not Twelve, he won’t win.

I spend my days thinking about my family. I miss them so much. I think about my parents. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this must be for them.

I wonder if they are still out there looking for me. Or did they just give up? I like to think they are looking. It’s hard for me to imagine, though. It’s hard for me to imagine anything outside of this room.

In the back of my mind, in the darkness, lingers the ultimate question: will my family ever see me again? If so, will I be alive, or will it be in a morgue? I try not to think like that. I try to be optimistic. How can one be optimistic, living in hell?

I try to make sense of everything.

It was a beautiful, sunny spring day. The sky was the most fantastic shade of blue that I have ever seen in my life. The sun was bright. It was warming everything up from the inside out. It felt nice, especially after the harsh winter.

I wonder if that day was really magnificent or if it’s a figment of my imagination, a glimmer of hope. Hope that maybe I will be able to see the sun again. Does it still exist? I wonder…

It was a fantastic day outside. I decided to go for a walk. I always did before I went to work. I just loved being outside. I was a video game designer. I always seemed to be holed up in the office. My coworkers described me as being a workaholic. Sometimes, I would forget that there even was a world out there.

That day, when I was getting ready for my walk, something told me not to go. As always, I ignored my instincts. I thought I was being paranoid from all the scary movies I watched the night before.

That morning, when I opened my curtains, I saw a black Nissan with tinted windows. It was parked in front of my neighbor’s house. Suddenly, my heart sank into the pit of my stomach. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. For some unexplainable reason, I had a bad feeling, the worst that I’d ever had in my life. It was an irrational feeling.

I lived in a small, close-knit, middle-class community. Everybody there knew everybody else. That Nissan caught my attention because I knew all the cars. I knew who drove what and what belonged to whom. Nobody in my community owned a Nissan. It stuck out like a sore thumb.

I sat on the couch, staring out the window. I felt as if somebody was staring back at me.

Get a grip, I said to myself. That’s the last time I let Jason talk me into binge-watching horror flicks. My brother and I had done a twenty-four-hour scary movie marathon the day before.

I put my sneakers on and went outside. It was a beautiful day. I wanted to enjoy the outdoors as much as possible before going to work. I wasn’t going to deny myself my daily walk because the scary movies had me on edge.

The moment my foot hit the pavement, my heart sank into the pit of my stomach. I had that really bad feeling again. My instincts told me to go inside and lock the doors, but I told myself the fear was irrational, and I ignored it.

I walked up the sidewalk. That’s when I saw the Nissan. For a moment, it was keeping my pace. It was eerie. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to explode. The palms of my hands became cold and sweaty. The Nissan finally drove off down the road.

I thought I was being paranoid from those movies I’d watched with Jason. After all, I lived in an awesome community, one where you didn’t need to lock your doors. Nothing ever happened there. Some would find it quite boring, but I found it charming.

I was a mile away from the house, enjoying the weather, when I saw that same black Nissan. I felt panicky. My instincts told me to run and to put as much distance between the car and myself as possible.

I ignored my instincts and kept walking. I was debating with myself if I should tell Jason about this. The movie marathon had me really on edge. I could just imagine what Jason would say…

The car drove slowly by again. I felt like prey being stalked by a predator.

There is no reason to worry, I said to myself. I just have to lay off the horror movies for a while. I continued on, enjoying the weather.

A few blocks later, I was crossing the street when I saw that same black Nissan parked in a no-parking zone. The engine was on. The passenger-side window was open slightly. I could see puffs of cigarette smoke escaping the car. I had the impression that it was waiting for me.

Monster

I found her. Number twelve. From now on, that will be her new name. Her regular name will no longer exist. Names should be used for people. Not objects. She is an object. She will come to know me as Lord.

That is my name. I am the evolution of mankind. I am better than your regular person. I am much better than that. I am Lord.

She will be mine.

Twelve.

I first discovered her six months ago. It was in the fall. I was driving around aimlessly, bored. I remember that day clearly. The air was chilled. It was very windy. There was a slight rain. It was more like a mist. According to the squirrels and other wildlife, it was going to be a very cold winter.

It was like magic. I was just driving around. Then there she was. Poof! Just like that. She was something from my dreams.

And there she was, walking along the sidewalk. The coldness and wetness didn’t seem to bother her any. She just strolled along, her head up.

I could feel her confidence radiating off her with every stride. I found that alluring. I wanted her. God, did I ever.

At that moment, I knew she was mine. I wanted her to join my collection. I needed her to.

She was different from the others. The others were timid and shy. They lacked confidence. At first, I sought out women whose confidence and self-esteem were shattered. I’m not ashamed to admit it, but when I first started this game, I didn’t have any confidence in myself. With each object, my confidence grew.

But the excitement that I’d felt with the others was no longer there. I didn’t even realize it until that day. I was on the prowl for something different. I wanted something more, something exciting and challenging.

There she was, the exact opposite of the eleven others. That just made her more desirable.

I watched her for months. I learned everything about her and her family. I studied her routine inside and out. I knew her.

She was a video game designer. I even said hi to her one day. It was right in front of where she worked. She just blew me off. She did most people. She thought she was better than everybody else. The worst part was that she didn’t even realize it.

She was full of herself, hardheaded, and stubborn. When I learned that about her, I wasn’t sure if I would like it, but I was up to the challenge. There was just something about her. I yearned for her.

She loved to walk. She would walk the same path every morning before going to work. Rain or shine, it didn’t matter. She would always be out there walking. She would leave her house at the same time every day. Nine o’clock on the dot. You could set your watch by her. In fact, I did set my watch by her.

She would leave her house at nine, walk three miles, and then turn around and walk another three miles back to her house. She walked the same route every day, never varying her routine. Once home, she would take a shower. The shower always lasted ten minutes. An hour later, she would leave for work.

She never locked her doors. Nobody in her neighborhood did. They didn’t have to. It was a scene from Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. It was sickening.

It normally took her fifteen minutes to get to work, ten if there wasn’t any traffic. I would always wait ten minutes after she left before I strolled right into her house.

It was a beautiful house too. It was something that no twenty-two-year-old should be able to afford. It was a split-level, with two bedrooms and two full baths.

I would take a shower in her shower. I would nap on her bed. I would rummage through her closet and dresser. I rummaged through her belongings. Her family and her work were her life. I wanted, I needed, to know everything about her. I wanted to know more about her than she knew about herself. In those months, I got to know her intimately well.

She was a very young soul, very young, very successful, and very arrogant. She lived in a perfect world, sheltered from life. That had to change.

She really wasn’t like the others. She was tall, athletic, and beautiful. She had so much confidence and so much pride. It was nauseating. 

Where the others were weak, she was strong. Radiant. Irresistible.

***

Spring is the rebirth of everything, so that is when I decided that I would take her. It was the first day of spring. It was a beautiful day too. The sun glowed perfection in the brilliant blue sky.

I couldn’t wait for her to join my collection.

The day before, I’d rented a black Nissan. I parked it in front of the house across the street from hers. I watched her as she moved around in her house. She was so graceful. Everything seemed to come so easily to her. It wasn’t fair.

The anticipation was killing me. I couldn’t wait for her to become mine. Her confidence gave me confidence. God, I’d never felt like that before, almost giddy. For a while, I felt like the king of the world. She would be number twelve. That would be her new name. I will make sure of that. She will forget her name. After all, she was an object and didn’t deserve an actual name. I couldn’t wait for her to be mine. The thought excited me.

I took smoke out of my jacket pocket, cracked open the window on the driver’s side, and lit a cigarette, savoring the taste of it. My other hand drummed against the steering wheel.

I don’t know why people insist on giving women names. That should be a privilege. After all, women are not people. They are nothing more than objects. Twelve wasn’t really a name anyway. It was a designation, a way for me to distinguish her from the others.

Twelve left her house at nine in the morning that day. The second she stepped out of her house, she stared at the Nissan, wondering whose car it could have been. I could see the confusion in her eyes. For a split second, I feared that she would go back inside. She walked cautiously across her front porch. Slowly, she walked down the steps, her eyes never leaving my car. A moment later, she dismissed the car and began her daily jaunt.

I followed her. I would drive past her, turn at the intersection, and then, a few seconds later, I would once again be behind her. It was all a game. Women are the game pieces. I was toying with her. I wanted her to know. It was more like I needed her to know that there were things to fear. After all, she lived in a great neighborhood. Crime didn’t seem to exist there. Nobody in her community locked their doors at night or when they went out. They didn’t have to, and that needed to change.

Women should not be allowed to live in nice areas. They don’t deserve it, especially when so many people are homeless or living in slums.

Women are just objects. Nothing more.

It used to bother me growing up. I always lived in the crappiest parts of town with my mother. She was a crack whore. I never knew my father. I don’t think she even knew who my father was. My mother would always take me with her when she met up with her johns. Or she would bring them over to our place, selling herself for crack cocaine.

I was sitting in the Nissan, staring off into space, reminiscing about the past. Twelve slowed down when she saw me. She started walking at a snail’s pace. There was uncertainty in her eyes.

Good.

It was starting to work.

I stared at her, undressing her with my eyes, imagining all the things I could do to her. I wanted her. God, did I ever. I wanted to take her right then. Instead, I waited. She was feeling uneasy. I wanted her to feel vulnerable, helpless even.

I wanted to take her. I waited, though. It took all my willpower, but the timing had to be perfect. There is an entire ritual that I have down. I have to follow it. It makes the experience that much more gratifying.

I waited.

I planned on taking her in front of her house. That way, safety would be within arm’s reach, but no, it would never come. The experience would be that much more terrifying for her. My stomach fluttered with excitement. I can’t wait until she is all mine. I felt like a little kid at Christmas time. I’d never felt like that with the others. It was a great feeling of euphoric bliss.

She will call me Lord. The other eleven objects did. I