The Monster Inside Me
The night was pitch dark outside. In a tight corner around the 7th street, a dim light burned, creating a deep amber, enough to guide his way. As Prof Lu treaded down the glazed path, he knew it was different today. The usual solitude, he was so used to, was waning. A quiet rage running through his body, a gulp down his throat, and a deep churn in his navel was the only thing moving, amidst the beating heart of his.
She will be home tonight. Just the thought of it made him smile. A month has come and gone. They had been together for so long, it felt like an eternity. He couldn’t remember the last night he was with her. The memories of the day had been all fuzzy. He ran his hand on his face, over the scars. It still hurts, though he never remembered how it had happened. You fell on the stairs, she had told him then.
The weather had sensed his excitement too. It had been windy the whole day, with light showers. The waning daylight was the only reminder that the day was at the end. As he trudged along, skipping every step on his way, the sun was almost down the horizon, and the white moonlight was creeping in. A soft splash was hitting the top of his umbrella, their thuds muffled by the canvas. It’s going to be a cool night today, he said to himself.
I have been walking for so long, he thought. Have I lost my way?
Another hour had passed before he reached his door. The wind was still on but the downpour had subsided and a single slant of moonlight was brightening the porch outside. He put down his umbrella, fiddled his pockets for the keys, and quietly unlocked the door. The inside was dark. He didn’t turn the lights on and made his way up the stairs. She must be in the bedroom. She has always liked that room.
And there she was. Lying on the bed, the light from the night bulb caressing the soft contours of her body. Supple, soft, and angelic. The wind had blown away some portions of her skirt, up over her thighs. She was lying face down, buried in her pillow, one leg slightly bent, touching the knees on the other.
As he made his way around the room, he was careful not to wake her up. She looks beautiful when she’s sleeping, he thought to himself. He can’t remember the time when he had seen an image so peaceful, a night so young, a heart so restless. A sweet smell had filled the room as if someone had spilled a bottle of lavender. Or was it just her breath filling the air? He couldn’t tell.
He bent down on the couch. His fingers caressing her back. She moaned and began to turn around, a strand of her hair brushing his hands. This has happened before, he thought. A sense of deja vu crept in. But the night was too young to stop and think. He brought down his lips and moved a bit closer. As their eyes met, he could sense his body warming up. There was something different today, he sensed. Hasn’t she become more beautiful?
He kissed her softly, tasting a bit of tongue. As his lips moved closer, the smell of lavender filled his nose. It’s not suffocating. She smells so good. Her mouth parted and he could feel her taste on his lips. Mint, it is. He thought. She reciprocated. She half-sat, resting herself on her elbow, her hair a tangle of brown and crimson. She moved closer towards his face. He could feel her. His pulse was raging. His nerves were fraying. His hair rose and his breath became hard. He closed his eyes and then his teeth snapped. He could feel the cold hard bite.
Blood ran down her cheeks and she knew what she had done. He won’t remember it, she knew. Come the morning, it will just be a wound he took in the bathroom. She took a big gulp, her eyes closing in satisfaction of the flesh. The monster inside was quenched and the moon was past his full, starting to wane. Another month has passed, she chuckled softly. Another soul devoured.
