Page 88 of My Monster's Keeper
“What are you doing, Becky?”
“I’m doing what should have been done all those years ago,” I murmur and shrug out of his arms.
The key is where the asshole always left it, hanging behind a picture of God on his porch. Like religion will hide his sins. I slip it into the lock, feeling it protest before it finally gives way to the inevitable.
The door opens easily enough, with a creaking whine that reminds me of all those days ago. The TV is on, but I knew I’d find him here and not in bed.
Blue light fills the room and flickers as infomercials start. I walk in, finding an old man without a shirt in white boxers with blue stripes sitting in a rotting old recliner. The smell is awful, alcohol and sweaty man. Urine is an undertone that makes me want to hurl.
I stare at him. He’s so much smaller than I remember. Compact. I doubt he’s even as tall as I am. The muscles he used to have turned to fat and loose skin. The intimidating memory of him in my mind is gone, like it never existed.
I wonder where his wife is and then decide I don’t care. She saw it all, she just turned dead eyes away. Well, she can just do it again.
“What’s his name?” Frost asks.
“Do you know, I actually have no idea. We were supposed to call him Davidson, but I knew that wasn’t his name. He just liked it because he had a Harley Davidson and thought the bike gave him some kind of reputation, but I think everyone saw through him.”
Frost clicks his fingers, and a blue flame appears. He passes it to me. “We gave you the opportunity to get your revenge before.”
I hesitate and then take the flame. It’s cool to the touch and shivers around over my skin.
“Just tell it what you want, and it will happen. But you don’t have to do this, Becky. We can do it for you, or we can leave.”
I close my eyes. “Please don’t mistake me for a good girl, Frost. I’m just human. This man is going to walk into his next life without facing the consequences of his actions. If he had provided us a safe home like he promised, Grant would not be dead,” I rasp out.
“Eh? Who’s there?”
I walk into the light and stare at the old man. “Do you remember me?”
He peers up at me and smacks his mouth. He’s got no teeth. Should I have mercy now he’s old and frail? I almost tell the flame to die. I almost let it go, but then I see the belt. My eyes widen and find my gaze drawn behind him. The closet. I walk around him.
“Hey, what are you doing? You can’t do that. Stop! Stop, I say!”
I pull open the closet and find a tiny girl, possibly seven years old. She’s in a ratty t-shirt with shorts, and her face is tear-streaked, but she’s got dead little eyes.
I snatch her up, ignoring her feeble protests.
“You can’t take her!” he shouts.
He grabs me, but I shake him off and elbow him in the face. He reels back, falling over his chair.
“Frost?” I ask in a broken voice.
“Yes, my love.”
“I want him to suffer.”
Puppy, Stix, Wilder, and Frost peer at me from the shadows.
“Then let him burn,” I add as an afterthought.
“As you wish,” Frost murmurs.
I turn and walk out of the house with the little girl in my arms.
I can do good in this world. I can save the little girls like me and rescue little boys like Grant.
I can make people accountable for their actions. People and others. Those huge, giant monsters selling people. I can make that stop. I don’t have to play by human laws anymore.
