Page 43 of Monster
Essa
Two months ago
My entire bodyis trembling as I rush back to my room, the box gripped tight in my hands. I yank the door open and slam it shut behind me. I dash into the bathroom and slam that door behind me too. There are no fucking locks in this place, so I drop to the floor and lean my back against the door, giving myself some semblance of being locked in. I drop the box between my knees that I raise to my chest and stare down at it.
I haven’t felt this panicked in months. The first thought that popped in my head was Vincent. But Vincent isn’t alive. Or even—even—if he was alive, he wouldn’t play games. He would march his ass in here and get me.That’show I know this isn’t from him. It just can’t be.
The second thought was Ben, but then I remembered he’s fucking dead—exactly like he should be. And thinking both of those things, and how they arenotfucking probable, scares the shit out of me. Who the fuck else could it be from?
I don’t know anyone, and no one knows I’m even here.
So many fucking questions. Nothing makes sense.
I pull off the top of the box and drop it beside me without looking away from the contents. The papers inside are terrifying and so fucking confusing. They’re about Dominik and his life. How, apparently, he watched his father commit a horrific crime and he was in rehab.
I pick up the papers and begin to read them again, this time slower so I can absorb everything they say. I know I have no right to read them, but I can’t bring myself to stop. I know almost nothing about him besides the few things he has told me, but definitely not enough.
I also know I have no fucking right to talk about not knowing enough about him when he knows even less about me, but hedoesknow more than I ever told Vincent, so there’s that.
By the time I get to the third page, I rub my hand over my chest. My heart aches for him so fucking bad. He’s been through one of the worst fucking things imaginable. He watched his father murder his mother and her lover before turning the gun on himself. An eighteen year old should never have to witness something like that, and the fact it was his parents is even fucking worse.
I know I’ve been through more than most people. My parents were absolute garbage and the biggest pieces of shit—ever. But according to these, his life was a good one—up until that happened. How he’s still fuckingsaneis mind-boggling.
And the fact he is an addict is concerning to me, but at the same time, I’ve never seen him high. I know he smokes occasionally—and not only cigarettes. I can smell it on him from time to time, but other than that, there have never been any signs he has been high. And trust me, I would fucking know if he was.
When I glance back down at the papers, I realize my tears have soaked the paper, causing the ink to bleed and blur together. I didn’t even realize I had been crying. I wipe at my cheeks, ridding my face of the wetness before glancing at the papers again.
Dom was in rehab for a year for an Oxy addiction, but after he left, there’s nothing else about him or his addiction.
Once I get to the last page, I set them to the side and lean my head back against the door. I close my eyes and try to breathe. This is all too fucking much and theonly goddamn thingI can think about is slitting my fucking wrists. I want it so fucking bad—no—Ineedit so fucking bad. But I can’t.
I haven’t cut since the night I tried to kill myself in the hospital after I woke up. I’ve wanted to desperately, but honestly; Dom makes me forget so much shit. He fucking masks the urge and it makes me crave his presence in return. We’ve spent every day together, but since I came here, he goes home whenever there aren’t visiting hours. But… he’s actually stayed here often. The nurses here don’t really care if he’s here when he’s not technically supposed to be, and I fall asleep in his arms quite often.
He helps me and I’m scared once I get out of here, he won’t anymore. He’ll fucking drop me because I’ll be “fixed” and his guilt will subside. Once that happens, I know I’ll really be fucked. And that’s why these papers being sent to me terrifies me. I know he saw what they were and now that I know his life story, he’s going to leave. It’s not something he wanted me to know and his choice to tell me was taken from him.
I guess if he does leave me, I understand.
“Essa?” I jump at the sound of Dominik’s voice filtering through the door. He follows my name with a soft knock against the wood.
“Y—yes?” I have to clear my throat because it’s hoarse from crying.
“Are you all right?” he asks. Fuck, he’s askingmeif I’m okay? I don’t deserve someone like him in my life. He’s too fucking good for someone like me. Someone broken who will only end up hurting him in the end.
“Yeah, Dom, I’m all right,” I murmur. My nose is runny, so I get up to grab some toilet paper to wipe it and when I do, I accidently kick the box and it goes flying, along with the papers. I let out an exasperated sigh and start picking them up, but when I get to the card that saysMerry Christmas,I freeze again.
Who the fuck sent this to me?
“Here, let me help you,” Dom says from behind me, and I jump a foot off of the floor with a garbled scream.
“Hey, it’s only me,” he reassures me. My hand is clutching my chest as my heart races, and I nod my head repeatedly because words are not possible right now. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest. I clutch the card tighter in my fist and hear the crinkle of the paper.
“I’ve got you, baby girl. You know that. And as for those papers… I have no idea who sent them to you, but I need you to know I’m not that person anymore and what happened with my family doesn’t define me. I’m nothing like my father and you have nothing to fear when it comes to me, okay? I don’teverwant you to be frightened of me, or to worry about me being high.
“I’ve been sober for over two years and that’s not changing any time soon, okay?” I squeeze my arms tighter around him because words fail me. He’s too fucking good and I can’t believe he thinks I could ever be frightened of him.
“Dom, I could never,ever,be frightened of you. I’ve been through a lot in my life, and I’ve dealt with a lot of truly horrible people, and I can promise you, you are not even close to that. You’re… you’regood.”
Dom pulls me back away from his chest so he can look me in the eyes. He grips my chin between his fingers and rubs his thumb across my cheekbone. “Yeah, baby girl?”
