Monster

There was a monster in my house.

Not a cockroach, not a spider—but an actual monster in my house.

The kind of monster you see in fantasy stories.

Nonhuman.

Not a metaphor. It's the real damn thing.

I had no choice but to leave the house.

But where did it come from? 

Last week, I was living life as it was, and there it was, crawling onto the walls.

It wasn't even shaped like a bug.

It crept onto the ceilings, looking at me. 

I couldn't describe how it looked like. No matter how good you are in vocabulary, you simply can't describe that thing.

Since I included the word "crawl," it must mean that it had legs.

No. It didn't have any legs.

But it had eyes.

A black mass of goo.

A jet-black glob that had veiny eyes everywhere on its body.

I just had to leave. But it wasn't like I was harmed physically.

I was harmed psychologically.

It kept growing and growing, and I couldn't do anything about it.

Should I have called the police? They might do the same thing.

If I'd return home, I'd have seen that thing grown as big as the house.

So—there was no way I'd ever come back. 

Right now, I was skirting the streets, trying to find a shelter.

I backpacked around, and I had canned foods and water bottles with me.

I was unsure whether or not I was homeless.

No—I was definitely homeless.

A runaway sixteen-year-old boy.

I had to choose a problem.

A less disconcerting problem.

Either I deal with survival or deal with that gut-wrenching monster.

I had to choose the former.

It swallowed my parents.

But it didn't swallow me.

"Lucas?"

I snapped toward that voice. It was my friend.

"What are you doing here? Waiting for your girlfriend?"

I was sitting on this donut-shaped fountain bench. A big one.

We were in a square, not too crowded.

Surrounded by museums, galleries, and historic buildings.

A tall statue over there, another fountain bench on the other side with people sitting on it.

Cloudy weather.

I stared at my friend. His name is Lucas. He sat beside me. "Man, my dad just can't stop beating my mom. The outside world has been my haven ever since—but I still return home anyway. I just don't like watching my parents fight, so I just wait for them to finish until night comes. I assume you're also the same."

I wished that was the case.

I wished that happened to me instead of a monster swallowing my parents. 

It's funny because this guy doesn't know that I'm in deep shit.

"Let's go eat. It's on me," he said. "By the way, where's your girlfriend? I'll treat her too."

"I'm waiting for no one."

"Oh. Too bad, I could've stolen her heart."

I stared at him.

"Woah, that's the first time I ever saw you making a face like that. What happened to you, Lucas?" Lucas drew out his wallet and counted his money. 

We have the same first name, by the by.

It can get confusing sometimes.

"Anyway," he said, "I don't really care about your problems. Let's go to that cafe over there." He beckoned me. I followed.

When I followed him, I felt that someone was following me.

It wasn't someone—it was something.

I looked about. For a second, I thought I saw that monster—

"Hey, kid."

I snapped back to reality. A homeless man called out to me.

He gave me a toothy grin. "You look like you're in big trouble, son."

Lucas looked at him, then at me. 

The homeless man tilted his head. "Are you hiding something?"

"L-Let's go, now, Lucas." 

I ignored the man and entered the cafe.

We sat near the entrance. "What do you like?" Lucas asked.

"Anything is fine."

"Okay." Lucas stood, approached the counter.

I glanced at every customer here. I looked at the walls, the ceilings, the windows.

That monster.

Lucas returned with two coffee cups. "Hope you like it black." He set them on the table.

I stared at my coffee. 

I sipped.

He sipped.

"Dude, you seem tense. Relax your shoulders."

"..."

"Now I'm curious—do you know that homeless man?"

"Can you shut up for a moment?"

He sipped.

I flattened my lips. "If I tell you that there's a monster—a real monster in my house, and it swallowed my parents, would you believe me?"

He tilted his head, brows furrowed. "A monster?"

I nodded.

He mused. "Well, if you show that monster to me, then sure—I'll believe you. You seem oddly fine about it, though."

It's just that I wasn't sure how to feel.

"Then let's go to your house and beat the shit out of it," he added. "I'll be able to see it and beat it. A win-win. And afterward, we can play video games."

"You can't be that stupid, Lucas."

"I am stupid. Call the police and let them deal with it."

"I can't."

"Why not? It doesn't hurt to try."

"They might get killed."

"That's the point of their jobs."

It might get bigger. I resisted saying that. 

"Aren't you just being metaphorical?" he said. "Maybe that monster is human. I can say that my dad is a monster. He's always giving these death threats to us if we don't fix ourselves."

"Your dad is human, mine is an actual monster—burn that in your mind already. I'm not being metaphorical."

"So you're saying criminals are not monsters—but humans?"

"Of course they are. Sinning is part of human."

"Even if they kill people for no reason? That they even enjoy it?"

"That's also human. Everyone has a killing intent."

"Hmm..." He looked up. "What's the difference between a monster and a human, then?"

I sipped. "Are you really going to ask me that now?"

"Yeah—why not. I'm curious."

"Isn't that obvious? Monsters are ugly, humans are not."

He chuckled. "Are you saying that all humans are beautiful?"

"Yeah, do you disagree?"

"No, not really." He smiled wryly. "Sure, if you look at it objectively, monsters tend to have these disgusting physical features." He finished his cup and sighed. "You know what—let's go to your house. I want to see that monster, face-to-face."

"H-Hey, wait!"

He left the cafe and I followed in haste. "Lucas! Stop right now!" He ran.

We ran around the streets until we reached my house.

He decelerated, huffing and puffing. He stood before my house, scrutinizing the windows.

"Lucas, don't you dare enter the house!"

He did it anyway.

He stepped inside the house like it was nothing.

My legs shook, my eyes quivering.

My friend was going to die.

He's going to be swallowed by that monster.

I'd been waiting for five minutes.

He hadn't come back yet.

I slowly approached the door.

I twiddled the knob.

I gulped.

I opened it.

I stepped inside.

I went to the living room.

Empty.

I went to the kitchen.

Empty.

I grabbed a knife.

I skirted the house.

I climbed upstairs, steps creaking.

My room.

The door was open, slightly.

I approached it.

I pushed the door and jumped right through. "Lucas!"

I didn't see him.

My room was empty.

I don't see the monster.

But I can't be sure just yet.

I heard a noise downstairs.

I gasped and hastened my way downstairs.

And as I descended from the stairs.

My parents.

My parents were standing there by the doorway.

Looking at me.

"Oh, Lucas," Mom said, "we've bought you a gift! Sorry for buying it late—we didn't get to prepare beforehand. Happy birthday—ah, why are you holding that knife?"

I looked at my knife.

"Oh, um, I was just about to cook."

"Oh, really? Don't worry." She drew out a package. "Here—McDonald's for you. We also have a cake, but eat it last, will you?" She smiled.

"Happy birthday, son," Dad said, smiling.

I stared at my dad.

He...

He changed.