Page 3 of Our Monstrous Hearts

Blistering pain burns through my scalp, brutally ripping me from the thoughts that I had become lost in. My eyes widen in horror as Clayton forces me off my chair, my hair coiled tightly around his fist. Shards of glass split through my skin and embed in my shins like shining jewels.

A cry escapes me before I can push it back inside, not wanting to give Clayton the satisfaction of hurting me but being unable to totally suppress it. He is sadistic in how much he craves my tears, to see me broken. Keeping my true feelings bottled up is the only power I have over him.

Yet even now, I lose my hold, and tears quietly slip down my face.

“One day, I’m gonna kill you,” Clayton snarls, anger radiating from him. His sweat-slicked hands dig into my skin as he forces me further against the floor in an attempt to raze my spirit and pulverize my flesh. My body contorts at unnatural angles, my limbs precariously bending, threatening to snap like twigs when my cheek grazes the glass.

Kill me now, kill me now, kill me, please. I just want to be free.

It's ironic. Days like this always start with an amber, golden glow rising. With birdsong greeting me as I wake, and with warmth in the air as I take in the scent of blooming flowers in pretty shades of dandelion, coral and lilac.

A perfect day for an externally perfect life.

But I know there is no escaping Clayton. Not when he would drag me back by my hair, humiliating me in front of the entire town in the process. And behind closed doors, he would be worse. Clayton would force me to do things that I didn’t want and serve out every kind of punishment that he could think of when I attempted to resist.

No, I know the outcome––know it isn’t worth it––because I had tried to escape, and failed. There was a time when I hoped for something better, a dream I was willing to fight for. Not anymore, though. Dreams aren’t something that I can afford to believe.

“I hope you do,” I say softly, my words resigned and muffled by the wooden floor.

‘‘What was that, huh?” He yanks my head back so that I can see his face reddening with rage, harsh frown lines dig into his aging skin, grey stubble peppering his chin. I give him only apathetic silence before Clayton slams my face once more against the ground.

The scream that leaves me is bloodcurdling. My hands fling out frantically, not wanting to fight Clayton but to defend myself from any further attacks. I squeeze my eyes shut, whimpering as his hot breath blows against my face.

“Think you can talk back to me, whore? Keep your fucken’ mouth shut. You don’t speak unless I ask you a goddamn question.”

Don’t make a sound, don’t make a sound. The words repeat themselves over and over as I bite hard on my bottom lip, drawing blood. All I want is for Clayton to leave me alone.

He lets my hair go and I crumple to the floor, but I don’t dare to move. I know the rules. I know how to play this game.

Things are hauntingly silent. I know he’s trying to make me think it’s over, to catch me off guard so that he has an excuse to punish me some more.

My ears focus on the ticking of the clock as I wait, finding that familiar dark place inside of me where I go for peace.

Clayton’s boot drives into my stomach, and the air rushes out of me as I curl in on myself, writhing from the pain. I don’t bother to get up from the floor, and instead I wrap my arms around myself as he circles me.

“Boys will hear ’bout this, a fucken’ wife who can’t cook,” Clayton scoffs. “Need to get a new wife who can cook and fuck better.”

The front door slams shut as Clayton leaves, off to drown himself at the bar as he does every night. Solace should find me now that I’m alone. It doesn’t.

It only takes a moment before everything inside of me shatters.

“Someone, please,” I choke through my sobs. I’m on the verge of screaming, tears dripping onto the floor as I allow myself to break down.

I would offer myself to anyone, even the monster the townspeople say haunts us, if it meant that I could leave this prison. “Please, take me away from here. Please. I can’t do this anymore.”

Chapter III

The Monster

My blackened soul has tethered itself to Cassandra’s, like a blood-red thread winding through the universe that leads only to her—my salvation. I have been stalking her from the darkness, observing and obsessing, wishing that I could bear her sorrow, but only able to watch helplessly from afar. I could not cross the threshold to her. I could not break the ancient law that protects the humans.

Until now.

She has called out to me—and I am here to answer.

To claim Cassandra as mine.

Chapter IV