The blow that follows a second later is expected. The pain is so sharp it knocks the air from my lungs, and I feel something warm slip down the side of my head.
“Watch,” he repeats, slower now. “You need to learn. Because soon you will not only stand here and observe, but you will do it yourself.”
I open my eyes.
The girl’s face is swollen, one cheek already darkening, her lip split. Her dress is torn at the shoulder, fabric hanging uselessly from her arm. She looks at me as though I can save her.
I cannot.
I know that.
I am seven years old, though after everything I have lived through, I already feel closer to eighty.
He closes the distance between himself and the girl, and she sobs harder.
I shake my head. “Please—”
That word earns me another blow, this time to my ribs, and my vision blurs, spots dancing before my eyes.
“Don’t beg,” he snaps. “It’s disgusting. How the fuck are you my son? So weak. You must have inherited your stupidity from your mother.”
He turns back to the girl, dragging her by the arm.
“Now sit there and look,” he says. “Look at what we do to them. Look at how we break them. Or perhaps you are finally ready for a turn?”
My stomach twists violently, and I cannot hold back the vomit that spills from my mouth.
The next few blows come in quick succession, to my head, my stomach, my back, my legs, and he doesn’t stop, hitting me again and again.
“Why the fuck are you so weak?” he roars.
I am not weak.
I am simply not made of the same filth as he is.
My grip on consciousness slips.
I hear the girl scream, and I understand this much.
There are different kinds of monsters.
Some are born to destroy the innocent.
Others are born to destroy monsters.
The world needs its balance.
And I will become the one it needs. I will rid the earth of vermin like him. I will tear them apart, piece by piece, and make them beg for it to end.
I jolt awake.
My chest heaves, lungs burning as though I have been held underwater. Sweat clings to my skin, my jaw locked so tightly it aches. It takes me a moment to make sense of my surroundings.
Then the ceiling comes into focus.
I get up and head straight for a cold shower.
I am in a foul mood. Where I should have dreamt of my beautiful girl, my twisted mind dragged me back into the past.
