Page 101 of Only a Monster

‘No,’ the woman’s voice said. ‘Start again.’

The scene vanished, leaving the sitting room empty. Joan stared at the space where Nick had been, sickened. After the massacre, she’d imagined hurting him for what he’d done to her family. But actually seeing him get hurt in front of her . . . hearing the crack of breaking bone . . . She wanted to throw up.

A number floated in the air: 15.

Nick was in the chair again, face uninjured. The monster stood over him. Joan could hardly breathe.

‘Who shall I kill first?’ the monster said to him. ‘You have so many siblings. Should I go youngest to oldest, and kill your parents last? Or the other way around?’

‘Leave them alone!’ Nick said. ‘They’re—’

The monster struck Nick’s face, breaking his nose again. Joan flinched hard. A terrible dread began to fill her chest.

‘Stop,’ the woman’s voice said. ‘Start again.’

The number 93 floated in the air.

‘What is this?’ Aaron said. ‘He’s the hero. Why isn’t he fighting back?’

Joan was beginning to understand, and it was more horrifying than she wanted to believe. When Nick appeared again, she crawled closer to him.

This time, he was on his knees, shaking. The chair was on its side, rope still tied to its arms. Nick seemed to have escaped it, but he hadn’t gone far—he was kneeling by a dark-haired woman and man on the floor. His parents, Joan guessed. They were dead. They had the same stillness that Lucien had had, that Gran had had.

Where before Joan had tried to run, now she couldn’t get close enough. Nick’s expression was a mix of disbelief and devastation. Joan knew exactly how terrible that moment felt.

At the sound of footsteps, Nick scrabbled up, grabbing for a knife on the kitchen counter.

‘Now that’s what I like to see,’ the monster said. ‘Some initiative.’

Nick backed up, the knife shaking in his hand. Throw the knife, Joan willed him, and then wondered at herself. Whose side was she on?

‘Look at you,’ the man said, sounding amused. ‘Armed with a knife. And here I am with only my bare hands.’ He held them up in mockery, as though Nick were arresting him. He was still advancing. ‘But then, I killed them with my bare hands, didn’t I?’

‘You—you just touched them,’ Nick said uncertainly. ‘You touched their necks. And they fell.’

‘That’s right,’ the man said. ‘Because I’m a monster.’

‘A monster?’ Nick still sounded confused.

‘I stole your parents’ time from them,’ the man said. ‘All that they had left in them. Just like I’ve stolen from hundreds of people before them. Just like I’m going to steal your life from you.’

‘You’re not well,’ Nick said. The man was within arm’s reach of Nick now, close enough for Nick to stab him. ‘You’re not a monster,’ Nick said in that serious way Joan was so familiar with. ‘You’re a human, and you’re sick. You need help.’

‘Stop,’ the woman’s voice said.

Once again, Nick froze. And then Joan was sure. She breathed out slowly.

The monster turned again to the woman out of frame. ‘With respect, must we use this boy? How many times have we killed his parents? He’s always so virtuous afterward.’ He spat the word virtuous as though it were a curse. ‘Perhaps a different human . . .’ ‘This is the boy,’ the woman said. ‘Not in spite of his virtuousness, but because of it. When we break him, that quality will turn into righteous fury.’ The glee in her voice made Joan want to scream. ‘Now do it again.’

210

Nick was in the chair, voice hoarse. ‘You don’t have to do this. You—’

‘Stop. Again.’

1100

There were more bodies on the kitchen floor. Joan couldn’t bear to look at them this time. You have so many siblings, the man had said to Nick.

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