Page 6 of Monster
Dominik
Six months ago
I walk aimlesslyaround the halls of the hospital, not sure where I’m going or even what I’m doing, but all I do know is I can’t leave Essa otherwise I’ll go and do something I know I shouldn’t. She needs space with everything she’s going through. I respect that, but it doesn’t mean what she said to me didn’t hurt. I did everything I could to save her,andher sister, and it kills me knowing I couldn’t save them both. But there was no saving Holley. I knew the moment I got to their car and peered inside she was already gone but having to be the one to tell Essa was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
I take a seat in one of the waiting room chairs before jumping right back up and wandering around again. I’m too restless to sit still. The familiar pull of toxicity runs through my veins, and I scratch at my sleeve covered arm.
This isn’t good—I’m fucking losing it.
I have nothing to go home to other than an empty apartment paid for by the money my parents left me. They put it in their will I was the one to inherit everything of theirs. So, now I’m set with a nice chunk of cash with everything I own already paid for. I know I have no reason to complain because most people have it far worse than me, but whenever I’m alone, the toxicity pulls me further under and I feel myself on the edge of succumbing to it like the coward I am.
Hence why I have been at the hospital for weeks, not leaving at all. I have one change of clothes with me which I luckily had in my car that night and I change with every shower, washing the clothes I was wearing in the machines here at the hospital. I know the nurses are taking pity on me with them letting me shower here, but I don’t care. All I know is I don’t want to leave, no matter what, and they help me make it a little less stressful. In fact, Joyce brings me homemade meals from time to time and she might not know it, but it helps knowing someone cares.
I make my way out of the building to get some fresh air. I walk down the sidewalk and take a seat on the bench furthest from the commotion of people continuously coming in and out of the main doors. I pull out my earbuds and scroll through my playlist until I find a song that fits my mood. “Pray” by Picturesque begins to play and I turn the volume on high before leaning my head back. Dark gray clouds cover the entire sky, not one ray of light peeking through their density. The cloud cover makes it feel even colder than what it actually is, but I welcome the cool breeze. It chills me to the bone, even through the hoodie I’m wearing.
I take a deep breath and let the music carry me away—until the memories of a couple weeks ago hit me with enough force to almost knock me on my ass.
I can’t sleep—like usual—so I slam the door to my apartment and jump into my car, a hunter green 1970 Mustang which was my father’s, but is now mine. Being alone makes me crave things I don’t want to do, so here I am, driving around this podunk town at the ass crack of dawn.
“Lightning Crashes” by Live plays on the radio and I crank the dial up as I roll my window down. I remember jamming to this song with my dad when I was little while he worked on this very car in the garage. Our garage hangouts were always the highlight of my week, just me and dad spending all day together. Nothing but conversation and good music. I miss it.
I miss him.
I shake my head, guilt riddling me. He killed Mom and I must remember that. He doesn’t deserve to be missed.
I drive up the hill on the main road toward the edge of town when I see smoke billowing up to the sky.
What the fuck?
I step on the gas and as I come over the hill, I see a car flipped over in the middle of the road. I drive faster as adrenaline surges through my veins. I fly down the road and yank my car over to the ditch before swinging the door open and jumping out. I run to the passenger side because the driver’s is completely mangled. I manage to stick my head through and see one girl yanking on her seatbelt, attempting to free herself and the other is hanging upside down with her eyes open. Blood is dripping from her mouth and she’s unmoving.
My heart seizes in my chest as I realize she’s most likely dead, but the girl she’s with doesn’t seem to register that and begins freaking out about her. I wrap my hands around her, attempting to calm her flailing limbs so I can try to get her free, but it doesn’t help.
“Pl—plea—please sa—save my sis—sister!” she cries out. I pacify her by telling her I’ll go check on her and when I do, just to be sure, I find she has no pulse and I swear she already feels cold. I know she doesn’t, but merely knowing someone is dead, everything else seems colder.
I shudder as I crawl back through the passenger’s side, scraping my arm and knees on broken glass, but my sorrow for her oozing from my entire being ensures I don’t feel a damn thing other than the guilt for the fact I’m going to tell her that her sister is dead.
With my heart pounding brutally in my chest, I inch forward as carefully as I can until I’m next to her. She doesn’t waste time asking me how Holley is, and I avoid her question by glancing away from her and digging out my pocket knife. I begin cutting her seatbelt and as I work on getting her free, she demands I answer her. Her voice is cracked and hoarse as she speaks. My heart continues to thump painfully as I keep sawing at the seatbelt, but when I chance a quick glance at her, the fear in her eyes fucking shatters me.
I do my best to avoid answering her by asking what her name is—which is highly stupid of me. She’s in a vulnerable position—not only physically, but mentally too—and I worry if I tell her about her sister, I’m going to lose her too and that’s something I can’t see. Call me selfish or whatever, but I don’t wanna watch someone else die. Ican’twatch someone else die. But if I know her name, it only makes this personal for me.
“Essa Mon—Monroe,” she answers me. “Wha—what’s wrong wi—with Ho—Holley?”
Damnit, she answered me.
“My name is Dominik Reed and I’m going to help you. You’re going to be okay,” I tell her. I need her to know who I am, so she knows she isn’t going to be alone. She begins screaming asking if her sister is okay. Tears run down her blood and dirt smudged face as defeat takes over.
I swallow down the dread threatening to consume me.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Spit it out, Dominik, she needs to know, and you can’t keep putting it off… It’s not your fucking place to keep this from her.
“I’m so sorry, Essa, but she didn’t make it. I just have to focus on saving you now. I’m so sorry.” Tears run down my face, burning me alive with guilt, as I jerk my arm faster, almost through the thick material of the seatbelt. I push myself harder, needing to get her out of here because the smell of smoke is even stronger now and I know that isn’t good.
