Page 49 of Monster
Vincent
Three weeks ago
My daily routinehas changed marginally, but for the fucking better. Essa got out of that pathetic excuse of a treatment facility two days ago, but of course she went home to that piece of shit’s apartment. I try to hold back my bitterness about it, but I can’t. She doesn’t fucking belong there. She belongs home with me.
Then bring her fucking home.
I shove those thoughts to the side as I take a huge drag off of my cigarette, smiling as I feel the familiar pull of nicotine in my veins. I release a breath before quickly taking another puff. Watching Essa from afar has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, and my lungs are paying the price.
But Essa will be paying for it soon enough. She’ll be as bloody and broken as she left me. I need to wait—to be fucking patient as much as it enrages me to do so. I have a plan now I have to follow through with. Though, now that I think about it, the plan kind of fucking sucks.
For some fucking reason that doesn’t even make sense to me now, I wanted to fuck with her instead of bringing her straight home. Starting with that box on Christmas. I wanted to make her paranoid and have her questioning everyone and everything, but of course, Essa has to be a real dumb bitch sometimes and not take it the way I was hoping she would.
Besides the initial opening of the box, when she got frightened, I haven’t seen her look like that since. In fact, it almost seems like she looks forward to every CD I leave her. Every time I think I know everything there is to know, I turn around and she’s doing something I never would have suspected. She’s truly fucking crazy.
I hiss when the cherry in my cigarette gets to the filter and burns my finger. I shove it in the ashtray and sigh as I lean my head back against the headrest. It’s the end of January now and it’s cold, but it’s not terrible to sit out in my car without the heat on. In fact, the chill in the air reminds me of Essa and her icy persona.
Right now, I’m parked less than a block away from Dominik’s apartment, waiting for them to come out. Essa walked through the door to his apartment building two days ago and I haven’t seen either one of them since.
The rage that bubbles up does more than consume me. It fuckinghurts.And when I hurt, especially like this, I get fucking angry. Every day that passes and she chooses him over me, I get more and more fuckinglivid.And every day, it gets more fucking difficult to keep the monster inside of me at bay. He’s fuckingseething—practically foaming at the mouth to be released and to have some fucking fun with her, and I’m so fucking tempted to give in.
Except it fucking terrifies me to give in when it comes to Essa. Every other time I’ve let my monster have free reign. No second thoughts, no regrets, nothing. But for some reason, when it comes to Essa, I resist my instincts and it irks me. I don’t want to fucking hesitate. She sure as hell doesn’t deserve my mercy. She fucking shot me and left me for dead—hell, she probably thinks Iamdead which is even better for me because when the time does fucking come to bring her home, it’ll be all the more surprising.
I reach into the passenger seat and grab my pack of cigarettes. I pull out another and bring it to my lips. I flick on my lighter and bring the flame to the end, watching the tip glow a bright orange as I puff on it. Right as I toss the lighter down into the cup holder, I hear a car start in the distance, but not merely any car, no. Dominik’s hunter green 1970 Mustang.
Fucking finally.
I keep my eyes trained on Dominik as I watch him get out of his car and walk back into the building. Damn, even fucking better.
I start my car and drive the short distance to his car. I stop in front of it and quickly jump out—CD in hand. I pull open the passenger side door and set the plastic case covered CD in the seat and shut the door before jumping back in my car. I quickly pull away and drive back to where I was parked before so I can hopefully catch Essa’s reaction to seeing the CD.
* * *
Watching her face—evenat a distance—made my entire fucking day. From what I observed, she looked utterly fucking shocked, but also—dare I say—happy? But the best fucking part was seeing her try to explain to Dominik what it was. Her arms were moving about, and she had a sour expression set on her face—her irritation with him was clear and I couldn’t help but laugh, giddy.
But she didn’t only appear irritated. She looked confused too—which is good for me. I want—no, Ineedher questioning everyone and every-fucking-thing. She doesn’t belong here in this town. Most definitely not with him.
I waited to give her the fourth one until after she was out of that fucking place and I’m glad I did too. I wasn’t able to see her reaction to any of the ones I gave her while she was in there and one night about, five days ago, when I was going back to her room, I heard the two night nurses talking about how she was getting discharged soon and I decided right then and there I would wait a little while longer to give it to her so I could hopefully see her fucking face this time.
I didn’t get to see her reaction to the song I chose, but it’s fine—for now. I mean, eventually I’ll want to see her reaction when she actually listens to it, but I have to be patient.Except patience isn’t exactly looking good to me now that I’m lying face down in the fucking mattress of my hotel room bed. My mind is fucking spinning from the half bottle of bourbon I downed the second I stepped through the door an hour ago.
It’s been the same shit every fucking day. I watch Essa—or at least I try to—and then I come back to this shitty fucking room and drink myself into oblivion. Ever since the weird conversation I had with Leo the other day, we haven’t spoken. I’m completely fucking alone in this podunk town, watchingmygirl with another man.
What’s worse than that is as much as I hate it, I can’t force myself to bring her home yet and I don’t know why. Some part of me, deep, deep down, is telling—no, screaming at me—to fucking wait. For what, I wish I fucking knew.
Angry—yet again—I attempt to sit up and grab the bottle I discarded on the nightstand, but all the blood rushes to my head and I sway drastically on my knees before crashing to the floor. My head bounces against the carpet and a garbled groan leaves my mouth. I aim to sit up again, but the entire fucking room spins and another wave of pain surges through my head, radiating down my body—especially my right fucking shoulder.
I keep my eyes closed and lie back on the floor, deciding the floor is a helluva lot more comfortable than I originally surmised.
* * *
“Vincentttttt!”
The sound of her shrill, but raspy voice forces me to cower even more in my closet. I’m hiding behind boxes and trash that are stuffed all around me. The smell is putrid, but it’s better than her finding me. Anything is better than her finding me.
“Vincent Lee Anthony! Get your fucking ass out here, you little punk!” Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. If she does find me, I can’t show her how weak I am. So, I rub my palms into my eyes as hard as I can. Bright shapes and lines appear behind my closed lids until I let up on the pressure. Every time I do that, I give myself a headache, but having a headache keeps me focused and it especially keeps me from crying.
In fact, it makes me angry, and when I’m angry, I can deal with her. It’s still hard, but when I’m angry, I’m not as frightened of her. I feel more in control, and I feel like I can actually defend myself if I need to.
