Monster

I stand in the middle of the room, my family standing back away from me like I’m some creature that broke into our home. Their eyes widen at the coils of energy that snake like serpents in and out of my palms, casting a glow against the peeling wallpaper. My mother takes a shaky step forward towards me, hands covering her mouth. My father holds his arm in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.

“We have to take her to the elders,” he says coldly. 

“No. Baby, no. We can’t.” My mother’s voice cracks like rocks against asphalt. She’s clutching a handkerchief, holding it against her mouth as if she could silence my father by pressing her own lips closed.

My breath catches in my throat. I look down at my own tiny hands. The crack and buzz and whir with a power I’ve never felt in my life. It should scare me, but it’s more inviting than any other feeling I’ve experienced. I want to give in to it, to feel the full force of the new life that has slithered into my body. They say these powers are given only by the God of death, but I know this isn’t true. I feel more alive now than ever before. I look back up at the only family I have huddled in fear in the corner of the kitchen. They make themselves small against my presence.

My mother sinks to her knees in front of my father. “They’ll kill her. I can’t let them hurt my baby. Paul, please. You can’t.” She’s crying now, snot dripping from her nose. 

“It’s not up to me. She has to go. She’s too dangerous. Those powers,” he spits, “are against the laws of nature.”

With wide steps, my father closes the distance between us. His icy eyes connect with mine, emotionless, cold. He never really did want a girl. I imagine he’ll be in the front row when they hang me. 

His hand clasps my wrist with a jolt, and suddenly, heat crashes through my skin, soaking through the border between my mind and body, sending electricity through every nerve ending in my being. For the first time in my life, I feel unbound, untethered, infinite. No longer am I just a poor 14 year old living in a tiny house outside of a big city. No, I’m a living theophany, a mouthpiece for the Gods, an apprentice for a being far greater than I could ever hope to be. The energy, no, the ichor, pools in my body and I savor the moment, that is, until my brother slams into me, knocking the power out of my body like a tooth flinging out of its socket. 

I groan, pushing my upper body off the uneven wooden floor. And that’s when I see what I’ve done. 

My father’s lifeless eyes are locked on me, his face drawn into a statue-like look of terror. Trails of blood trace out of his nose, his eyes, his ears. His alabaster hand is still clutching my wrist. 

I freeze. I can’t move. I stare and stare because if I move from this moment I know the reality of what I’ve just done is going to come crashing through me with a force I don’t know I can handle. My mind is racing in the background, but I stay transfixed on the body. Bodies. My eyes waver from father and land on my mother, slumped on her side, her lower form bent. The same blood drips like a tap from her nose and eyes. 

My brother stands over me, looking with wide eyes back and forth from me to my parents. He was outside when that horrible power exploded from inside me, I realize. He’s okay. My power didn’t touch him. He’s alive.

I realize I’m not breathing.  As soon as I draw air into my sandpaper lungs, vomit surges from the bottom of my stomach into my mouth. I stumble backwards, out of the house, into the thick summer air and collapse into the dirt.

The humidity is suffocating me, filling my lungs with water instead of air, refusing to offer any relief to my ragged breaths. I dig my knees into the ground, clutch the dirt with my hands. Time disappears as I rock back and forth in this prayer position, trying to unravel the fact that I just killed my parents and reweave it into fiction.

Reality stays stubborn no matter how hard I try to change it, but my futile efforts are interrupted when I hear the thud of footsteps running towards me. I force myself to look at him. His wide eyes are burning with something like determination. I think he’s going to hit me, to yell at me, to want to hurt me for killing our parents. But he puts his hand out for me to take. 

I stare at him.

“We have to go, the council’s going to see the smoke and come out to investigate. If you’re here when they arrive, they’re going to kill you.”

I didn’t even realize the house was on fire until he mentioned the smoke.

“Are you listening? Aki we have to go!” He drags me up out of the dirt. Why is he helping me? I think.

He pulls me along as we run past the stream where we used to float leaves like boats on the surface. Fresh tears form at the memory. At the realization that this is it for me. The life I knew only 10 minutes ago is gone forever. I’m an orphan. A criminal. Maybe even a monster. Guilt crawls through my body, begins to eat away at everything I knew to be true. All I want to do is let my knees buckle, and bury myself in darkness, to lay down and make everything go away. But my brother pulls and pulls me through the forest. He won’t let me stop. Even though it’s all I want to do.

--2 months later--

Miles and I sit small against an old wooden fence, cracked apart and split by vines. The wood is stained a sickly green shade. He passes me a handful of nuts.

“I got these from that old guy who lives at the end of the stream yesterday. I traded some of the metal scraps for them.”

“You got these yesterday?” I laugh, shoving two cashews into my mouth. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I was saving them for your birthday,” he grinned.

“Well they’re delicious, and thank you,” I say, leaning over him to pluck more from his pile.

We sit and eat quietly for a while, listening to the birds chirp high in the treetops, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun. It’s the first time I’ve felt anything less than debilitating fear in a while.

I let my mind wander to old memories. I think about life before I got my powers, when our mother used to bring us to the market on our birthdays and allow us to pick out one special gift. I always picked dolls or beaded bracelets or shiny things. If I could do that now, I’d pick something for my brother. He deserves more than I could ever give him. He’s stayed with the person who killed his parents, with the person who turned his life upside down and made him accessory to murder. 

He’s protected me, fought for me, and stood by me despite the fact that I’m a monster. The word stings, but it fits me. Monster. 

He leans over as if he read my mind and wiped tears I didn’t even know had fallen from my cheeks. 

“Hey, “ he says, his voice soft like cotton. “You’re not a monster, Aki. Please know that. I love you so much, it’s not your fault any of this happened. I promise.”

I look up at him, his dark brown hair, his dirty face, those wide, kind eyes. His eyes swirl with love and concern. And something else. Something I don’t recognize. But my eyes are blurring with tears and it disappears from my mind. 

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Miles pushes a strand of hair out of my face, and rises to his feet. 

“I have something for you. A gift. For your birthday. I’ll be right back.” He smiled a sad smile and set off into the forest to retrieve it. 

I watch him go, silently thanking the gods that at least I have him. At least someone is on my side. 

With a deep breath, I clear my mind of my sad thoughts and stand up to grab some water. It’s my birthday, I should enjoy it. A thought nags at me, asks me if I deserve a nice day. I do my best to push it away.

I step into the little weathered shed filled with rusty lawn mowers and tools and dust that we’ve slept in the past few nights. I peel back the slippery canvas of my brother’s backpack, and I freeze. My eyes sink down against a poster- the goddamn wanted poster that has haunted me, dug its teeth into me, dragged me into the public eye. The poster that demands a monster named Aki be brought to the council for punishment in exchange for a large reward. 

Why does he have this? I wonder, hovering my eyes over the hateful printed words. He knows the sight of it makes my stomach twist, sends me spiraling into guilt and anxiety. Something tugs at my gut. This feels wrong. Something’s wrong.

Miles sweeps into the shack, holding something wrapped in newspaper.

“Happy birthday Aki” he says, drawing out the last vowel. His eyes fall on my small frame, my eyes burning with confusion.

“Aki? What’s wrong-” he asks, but the words die on his lips when he sees the crumpled poster in my hands.

“Why do you have this?” I say. My words swirl with uncertainty and pain.

“Aki.” His eyes soften, and he takes tentative steps towards me, hands outstretched. “Aki I’m so sorry. We were running out of money and I was scared something was going to happen and they promised they wouldn’t hurt y-” But the sentence is swallowed by the sounds of men shouting outside.

I fall backwards, catching myself with my hands. The small strings of comfort he gives me are torn from my body, ripped from my veins, and panic floods my system. Tears slip down my dirt caked face. The realization that my own brother is turning me in for punishment burns through my confusion, and a gasp escapes my lips.

I can see the soldiers' outlines as their bodies cut through the sun rays streaking through gaps in the shed. I hold my knees tighter, wishing everything would go away, wishing that everything could be different. In my head, I recite the word no like a prayer. I can’t believe this is happening.

Men wearing black bulletproof suits and helmets barge into our temporary hideout, pushing my brother against the wall with the butts of their guns. They aim at me, and I huddle closer into myself, fear and anger rising inside me like a thrashing ocean. 

“Aki Suzami, you’re under arrest for the murder of Paul Suzami and Lorrie Suzami, we have strict orders to bring you back to the council for sentencing. Don’t resist.”

“Aki,” my brother shouts over the commotion, “I’m so sorry, I’m so-,” but I don’t hear any more because power begins to surge in my ears, drowning out the chaos and the harsh reality displayed in front of me. I think of everything I’ve been through, everything I’ve done. Images of blood and fire and my parents’ lifeless eyes flood my consciousness, and the shrill buzzing grows ever louder. I clamp my hands over my ears, my eyes overflow with fresh tears and then suddenly, everything goes silent. 

Slowly, I look up, peeling my hands from my ears to see what I’ve done. 

The shack is nonexistent. It exploded, scattering planks of charred wood in all directions. Bodies are lying entangled in the wreckage, blood smeared and spattered on their faces. The sunlight burns my eyes, and I blink repeatedly, mouth hanging open. I look down in shock at my trembling hands. I’ve done it again. I didn’t mean to, but what does it matter. All these people are dead because of me. Because of me and the powers that I never asked for, the powers that seem to destroy everything in my path. 

Slowly, I rise to my feet, swaying. Birds chatter away up in the treetops, carrying on as if nothing happened. My ears are ringing, muffling everything but the sound of my panicked breathing.

My boots crunch in the dry, yellow grass, as I do the only thing I can think to do. I search frantically among the many faces for Miles.

I feel exactly like I did 2 months ago, like a child lost without their parents. I feel so confused, so scared. Miles will make this okay. I know he will. I just have to find him. I just have to find him. 

I finally see him, pinned underneath a rusted tractor, his eyes and nose dripping blood. I shudder.

“Miles,” I croak, squatting down next to his face. His eyes are closed.

“Miles,” I say louder, my breath catching in my throat. My hands shake as I touch his cheek with the tips of my fingers, trying to wake him up.

I look for the rise and fall of his chest, but he couldn’t be more still.

“Miles we have to go.” I cry. “Please get up. We have to go now.” 

I think I see his eyes flutter, but it's just in my head.

“No,” I whimper. I spill myself over him, holding his head up. “Miles, please,” I hiccup. 

I push his hair back from his face and wipe the blood away.  But the longer I sit and hold him and rock him, the deeper my heart sinks into my stomach. The realization creeps up slowly into me until it is screaming inside of my head. I’ve killed the only person I had left; the only family, the only one who stood by my side, the only who believed that I wasn’t a monster, just a little girl with powers she couldn’t control. 

My brain is awash with a swirling mix of emotion. I am angry, so angry that this world has treated me so unfairly. I’m angry that I got stuck with powers I never wanted, I never asked for. I’m angry that no one but my brother took the time to talk to me, to realize that I didn’t want to hurt anyone, I just didn’t know how to control the unyielding power. I’m angry that my brother betrayed me.

But no, I’m not angry at him. I’m heartbroken that everything they said about me was true. I killed my parents, I must be a monster. I should’ve turned myself in to protect the innocent people around me. I’m selfish for thinking that I could just run from everything I’ve done, that I could live a life in peace, that I even deserve peace. I deserve the punishments they have planned. Torture, death, imprisonment, any of it. All of it. I just killed my own brother, what could be more monstrous than that?

I stop mid-sob when I see a red dot trace its way from my hand, up towards my chest. I look up to see another squadron of men in their bulletproof vests and helmets, guns pointed directly at my tiny body. Suddenly, the fear drains from my body and a wave of comfort washes over me as I realize what I have to do. 

“Stay where you are!” they shout, but I know I can’t listen. With arms raised next to my head, I rise to my feet and reach for a gun that’s holstered on the waistband of an officer lying on the ground. “Don’t move!” he shouts again, but I slowly raise the gun and point it at the group of young men anyways. 

A cacophony of shots ring out through the warm afternoon air, and connect with my body. I tumble to the ground, my face falling right next to my brothers. I smile at him, slowly lifting my hand with the little strength I have left to touch his still-warm cheek. 

I know this is right. I can’t hurt anyone anymore. I’m joining my brother in the warm darkness that begins to creep across my vision, blurring the wreckage and the reminder that I was a monster. I feel peaceful, easy. I’m grateful for my departure from the pain this world has caused me. I know this was the only right way to end our 2 month long run from the inevitable. I think somehow I always knew.