Page 12 of Monsters

My mother inhaled sharply seemingly at a loss for words. “Well… that’s—”

“I’m going to clean up,” I murmured, backing away before she could reach out to me. Taking the stairs two at a time, I reached my room and closed the door behind me.

Leaving the light off, I headed straight for the window. It was positioned directly adjacent to Lucas’s. A long piece of looped twine connected between in the form of a pulley system. While we were close enough to talk, we opted for the secrecy of hand-written messages pegged to the twine. A tiny cat bell dangling from the bottom, tinkling every time a new message was received.

In Lucas’s darkened bedroom, the drawn sheer curtains danced hauntingly in the breeze limiting visibility. A soft glow emanating from the hall light, however, silhouetted a motionless figure. Scrawling a note, I folded the paper and pegged it before sending it on its way. The bell tinkled with each pull of the twine until it completed its journey to the other side. I watched a hand emerge from the darkness and retrieve the message. After a few moments, another was sent in return. Squeezing the peg together, I pulled the note free and read the five seemingly harmless words in reply. Five words that caused my heart to pound.

Me:I’m sorry about your dad. Want to stay at my place tonight?

Lucas:I thought you’d never ask.

This was not a typical response. Not from Lucas. I knew him better than anyone, and those words simply weren’t how he’d reply. Squinting through the darkness, I watched the figure push the curtain aside and step into view.

His smirk said it all.

Ridicule

Taunting.

He held my gaze.

I was frozen in place with a thudding heart.

Mason Carter’s behavior was always unpredictable. One moment he protected me like he was an older brother. I’d feel safe. He’d even go so far as reading the riot act to anyone who tried to mess with me. But then, more recently as I had started to develop a womanly figure, Mason no longer saw me as the little sister. Instead, I was more like a tasty meal he wanted to both savor and devour, but then spit me out like poison. He was deliberately intimidating and thrived on my discomfort.

I no longer felt safe.

Stepping away from the window, my heel caught my schoolbag loaded with calculus books. It didn’t budge. Earlier, I had carelessly thrown it on the floor, and now as I fell, I cursed my laziness and Mason Carter. I landed heavily, my head banging on the wooden bed leg. Pain shot through my skull, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

My fifteenth birthday could be marked as the beginning.

The beginning of a volatile year.

The beginning of an unstable and unpredictable relationship between Mason Carter and myself that would continue to fester for many years to come.

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