Forgiving Your Monster

Forgiving your monster is something that is not new to those who have created one before. Yet, the experience is just the same I’ve learned and calculated. Experiments with different names but similar traits that make me think that I can cure any kind of illness, mental or otherwise, with time and my care. My most prized experiment that left me not only with the most amount of data was the one that also left me with the most amount of scars. My own Frankenstein…

Frankenstein reached out to me after his last outburst that left me in shambles and running for the hills where I once lived. It took about four weeks but I received a message on my phone from a name with a skull emoji next to it. Sending a simple message to try and reestablish connection. Out of curiosity and the need to put the nail in the coffin, I replied to his lone one word message of, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I was hoping that maybe we could talk?” He responded to me.

 “Talk about what?” I asked him, ready to overanalyze anything he sends next and file it into my mind with all the other, now useless, memories and moments in time that I tried to hold on to. 

“Just about what happened, if that’s okay.” My creation replied. 

I wondered what would be the profit of this. I wondered what would be something so important to them that they would want to reconcile. Words began to flutter out of filing cabinets in my mind to try and figure things out before they could happen. Results formed into words that then became a sentence and more. 

“He’s going to beg for me to come back and I’m going to have to be strong and tell him ‘no.’” Is all I could come up with in the moment. 

“Sure.” Is all I said as I began to prepare a battalion of phrases and memories to help create a stone wall with spikes and flames. ‘Keep him out!’ in bright red was painted on the outside as a reminder to him of the damage he’s caused. Inside, the phrase was nearly everywhere. Staining the town in red to remember the wars before that happened in these mental battlegrounds. 

“When are you free? I want to work around your schedule.” Frankenstein said and I felt a stone brick fumble down from the stone wall in my mind and land with a gentle thud in my heart.

“In an hour or so. I have a class and then I’ll be free. Meeting at your place?” I ask.

“That works for me if it works for you :)” He sent back.

The truth was that no matter the time frame, it’s something that would be lingering on my back like a hump now that I know for certain that he’s been thinking about me. 

“An attitude that wasn’t reflected before, a new development maybe?” I shake my head to make the scientist within simmer down. I needed to be strong. I need to be ready to fight. 

It didn’t take long for the class to start and finish. It felt like just a few seconds for me to walk back to my car. It felt like my nerves were full of electricity and no matter how slow I tried to go or take anything, the vibrations in my body made me go faster. I swear that I could even feel my feet levitating off of the ground with how distant I truly felt from the automaton that was now walking toward a creation of his own making. 

Arriving at the homestead of Frankenstein where I once lived too I don’t see any other familiar faces. The place is empty. I walk around for a moment inside as I still have the house key. Things have gotten messier with hand-me-down furniture placed in the once spacious living room; dishes rising out of the sink in its own nasty and vile creation; books and papers strewn about countertops that I didn’t have the mental capacity to peruse and learn from; and finally a Christmas present that laid unopened in a far corner. I regarded it just for a moment before turning my attention to my old chambers of slumber. 

The door that I locked on my last day living there has definitely seen better days. The frame seemed to have been busted, leading one to believe the room has been broken into. Across the threshold of the door, there was trash strewn about the closet area where my clothes once were hung. The toilet that I kept in good condition was now stained with piss that was drunkenly thrown about. A napkin from the nearby airport was hidden under the bed I laid on less than a month ago. Even the window that I left locked was now open to let a slight breeze in… this may have been one of the only good things actually. 

The room itself though? Nobody was in it. Nobody was in the house at all. It was just me and my thoughts trying to gather some kind of argument, some kind of discourse to prove that I shouldn’t come back to him. That he needs to find someone else to stitch his wounds up. To chop off body parts of their own to sew onto his when he would lose his mind and try to destroy himself. Fire wasn’t what he was afraid of, he wasn’t afraid of the light or burning or hell even dying. He was afraid to be alone. That much was clear when he called me three weeks before and asked where I was only to start screaming in fear of being alone once I told him that I wasn’t coming back.

“Hello?” A familiar voice echoes from the front room into the bedroom I then resided in. 

“In here!” I reply back as I situate myself better on the blanketless mattress. Sweat drips from my armpits down the side of my body and into my pantline. I hear footsteps from a creature I haven’t seen in over a month. I tremble slightly as I see a shadow in the doorway and then him, Frankenstein. With sewn back on hands, he waves slightly at me and moves forward. He extends his arms outward and offers me a hug. 

A flurry of papers occurs in my mind for a split second as a filing cabinet rattles open and reveals a transcript of dialogue. 

“Why don’t you ever let me hug you?”

“I don’t know, man! I just don’t like hugs. It’s probably something to do with my dad trying to kill me or something.”

“Oh, okay.”

I flash out of my own mind and look at his open arms as he continues to approach me. I panic for a moment and allow my arms to raise and meet his as he brings me into a hug. He smells like I remember and like a dog with a confused sense of smell I couldn’t tell if I wanted to run, hide, or bite at what was in front of me. I clenched my jaw shut and let the hug finish. 

He finds his place in an empty chair and settles in as he asks me a question.

“So, how have you been?” He asks. 

“Well… not the best y’know.” I laugh awkwardly and he joins in. 

“How have you been?” I ask him. He shuffles a little and begins to speak in a tone that lets me know he’s practiced this with someone. 

“Well, I’ve been working on myself. I brought you up in therapy so that’s cool!” He says and laughs a little as I continue to gaze at him with a stone mask on my face. “Uh, well, in therapy she’s been helping me sort of come to terms with not only what happened but also why it happened. I know that there are some roadblocks I have with my emotions that lead me to regressive actions and thoughts. I’ve been trying to do better though! In class and aspects of my life… but everyone could tell that something was up. Even Grey was asking where you were and if you were okay since he hasn’t seen you for a bit… He wasn’t too happy when I told him what happened!” He laughs again as he comes to terms again with one of his friends reprimanding him.

“My birthday came and went… I’m sure you know about that.” He said as I remember him sending a screenshot the day after his birthday of his mom stating how much of a bad person he was and how, “I guess you’re not the only one who thinks I’m a piece of shit.” I left him on read and didn’t deal with it. I marked it down mentally and filed it under “Manipulation Tactics.”

“But this isn’t about me.” He says and my eyebrows raise for a moment. “What I-- I want to hear from you. I want to knowhow you feel.” He says and leans forward reminiscent of a daytime show doctor that is trying to do the most so others don’t realize they aren’t a real doctor. 

“It’s been… shit.” I start off bluntly and feel the stone mask slip a little bit. I guide my hand through my hair and try to reconstruct myself to a higher degree than I was. I took a deep breath in and out, even though I was shaking the whole time I decided it was time to let the filing cabinets rumble open and bring out what I felt was the truth. 

“You stopped talking to me, like two months ago? And it was over something that roommates can deal with and talk about but it turned into a point for both of us to be upset about. I tried to talk to you about it though! Multiple times… Yet, each time I would try to you would either say that nothing is wrong and then ignore me for the rest of the day, or do an outburst of anger toward me only to turn around and smile and laugh with whoever you were hanging out with at the time.” My hands started to shake so I placed them in between my thighs to hopefully stifle them. 

“It felt like no matter what I did, it was always my fault. There-- There were times even where I would be alone in my bath in darkness, wondering what I did wrong. Wondering what I could do better! It took so long for me to figure out that it wasn’t even my fault. I communicated to you that there was an issue, gave you an example on how to resolve it, only for you to then ignore it and villainize me to whoever would listen. Even your girlfriend was still shocked that the debacle or whatever you want to call it was still happening. She thought it was all said and done and that we were friends again! I-” I stumble slightly and debate even saying the next few words collecting themselves on my tongue. “I even debated ending it some nights but realized that it wouldn’t have achieved anything!... That was around the time I decided to try one more time or leave.” Moments of silence pass as the words reverberate in both of our skulls. 

“Did I say anything wrong?” I question to myself. “Either way you can’t let him try to weasel back in. You have to stay strong!” I remind myself trying to fortify the walls that I built only moments ago.

“Wow.” was the first thing out of his mouth. “The way you make it sound, I was acting just like my dad.” He says and begins to tear up slightly before taking a breath. 

“I’m sorry.” Words I was already expecting him to say. “I was really a piece of shit over a small thing. I know we have thin walls and stuff and I could just send you a text to let you know to put headphones on or something. But it’s not really about that at this point, I just wasn’t really the best with dealing with my emotions then. I’ve been trying to regulate how I react to things and that was definitely not the best thing to do.”

“Yeah for a whole ass month.” I chime in as a nerve of anger decides to be let known. 

He laughs both awkwardly and honestly. 

“I’m happy that you’re trying to be better though.” I say in honesty even as I wanted to rip the pieces that once belonged to me back from his body, his mind, his soul. Even as I wanted to burst out in screaming and shouting, yelling at him for all that he’s done over the time span of three years, I couldn’t do it. Instead as he began to speak more about how things have been for him, I caught myself glancing out the window and into the bright sunlit distance. 

“Do I even really want to be here?” I ask myself. 

“So? What do you say?” He says and I try to reel myself back in. 

“Sorry, what?” I ask a little embarrassed.

“Do you think I can still be a good person?” He asks.

It clicked in my mind. A puzzle piece that I didn’t think of but is now connecting dots between annexes between logs and texts that I have stored in my mind.

“I-- uh..” 

I look down at my hands and then back at him. He didn’t want me back in his life. He didn’t care about that at all. For all I know he didn’t even care about forgiveness. He cared about me not being Dr. Frankenstein to him being the monster, but instead Igor. He wanted me to help support him while discussing one of the most volatile instances we’ve had in our friendship. An instance he allowed to fester and grow green with pus that leaked and seeped into stitches on his body. 

There was never a need for a mental wall to keep out the monster that might come and pillage the village in my mind. There wasn’t a need to grow a battalion of troops in my mind fuelled by memories of rage and distrust. There was no need to raise the drawbridge and do a call to arms. The war was over a long time ago because the prize was never me, it never was and never will be. 

Memories flash quickly through my mind, fast enough that I remember the motions I felt. Pangs of heartache, loss, tears and fears that we shared together. Triumphs that we both conquered together and years that were made better with each other’s company. It all added up to this one moment that seems so small in the grand scheme of things looking back. Looking forward though? I know what comes after this, more stitches, experiments, body parts from people we come across that I need to help attach to him and raise him higher than anyone before. Is there an inbetween?

I look up and make eye contact with him. 

“Yes, I believe that you can be a good person.” I say in a tone that’s put on to make it sound believable and smile weakly. He smiles back and lets out a sigh of relief. 

“Y’know I was really worried about that. You’re the one person that if you said no I’m sure there wouldn’t have been any hope for me.” He laughs and I smile weakly again. 

“I know.” I think to myself. “This is the last kindness I will ever do for you.” 

“Oh, by the way, can you please take your Christmas present? It’s been out there for weeks and it’s making me depressed when I look at it.” He laughs and I laugh too. I laugh in a way that it feels like I don’t have something on my shoulders anymore. I can stand straight and not worry about a monster lurking behind corners where my classes were. Worry about him spreading rumors of how I was a villain and monster and how he was a saint the past month. Worry about being judged by him from afar for what I was wearing or how my hair was. Worry about someone breaking into my parent’s house with his own house key. Worry about someone killing me because they knew where I slept, knew how I slept and even when. I don’t have to worry about a monster anymore. 

The mental spears are put to rest as we walk to the front room and I grab the gift-wrapped present. The high stone wall is now being made into an approachable fence as I wave goodbye to him one more time and leave the door. The red-stained village finally has vegetation growing, waterways are fresh again, there is no fear of a monster. 

Driving back, I wish I yelled at him. Hurled spears at him and had an actual war to continue onward again for another three years. I wish he felt the pain I caused myself and allowed him to cause. The war is over. There may be a monster out there, but hopefully he’ll aim to be a better person to some other Igor he chooses.