"Escaping Monstrosity"
trigger warning: substances, abuse
Escaping Monstrosity - Izzati Rafiee
The apartment felt horrifying. Like usual.
She sat on the chair at her desk, before flipping on the three-years old laptop. The bright LED shone on the glasses of her spectacles and her earphones were neatly plugged into her ears, with full volume, denoising the chaos outside the room.
The clacking plates and bottles in the kitchen, the constant shouts and yelling of different pitches and the random thuds that could deafen the whole household. It was almost similar like the nightmares she had the night before. Except she was already used to it. It should not be called nightmares anymore, lately it felt more like normal recurring dreams.
It was three in the morning. Mega cooped in her desk for the whole night, again, reading journal articles for the university assignments, interchanging with random Korean and Japanese entertainment videos to keep her awake. Her plan was to stay up until the fajr arrive, and then have a long nap after the prayer. It was the weekend after all, her brain would not be hating herself for forcing it to be in online classes for three hours straight after a sleepless night.
The shouting outside were now subdued, replaced with soft sobs. A gruff voice was consoling the sobs and she could imagine that the two being in each other arms, whispering superficial apologies and regrets. She could see it as if she were watching the 10th monthly reruns of the cliché drama series on television; because even when they aired different titles, each series seemed to share the same plot, conflict, climax, and resolution. Tear-jerking at first, stale at last. Slapping her cheeks lightly, Mega let a controlled sigh, her corneas displaying the deadest grave upon all.
Taking her spectacles off, her body pushed the office chair backwards before she got up and stepped into the bathroom to freshen herself. A splash to the face, an aggressive rub to the cheeks. As she looked up, straight into the mirror, she saw the dark spots under her brown eyes and a red bruise at the nape of her neck.
Intent stares.
Her dead eyes brightened at the sight of the hideous bruise, letting out a soulless chuckle. The bathroom was echoing with her chuckles and there in the mirror, the Mega that she saw was with the driest smile and a river dropping from the corner of her eyes.
The Mega in the mirror stood there, alone, with scars and bruises all over her upper body. A mess. She looked like nothing like the Mega from two years ago, way before the deadly pandemic, and way before her parents were taken away by a random drunk driver.
And way before she was taken into this personalized hell.
Fajr arrived as her eyes became heavier from staring the screen all night. After her prayer, she turned the doorknob and finally saw the recurring images that flashed in front of her eyes several hours ago.
Ah, a glimpse appearance of hell.
Carefully, Mega tiptoed her way to the kitchen to avoid any possible tiny shredded glasses which might be laying on the floor. She heard no sound of glasses breaking last night, but in this house, possibilities of getting injured were always available. The two devils, the match made in hell were scrawled in the living room, sleeping soundly after a rough night. A night that was common to them. They chose to live the difficult life, so they should be getting used to it, instead of complaining about the monstrosity that they created themselves.
The dining table was just like what she imagined it would be. Food packaging of different colours, all tore open and empty. Little transparent white packets were also lying there, on the table and she had to take a deep breath before she could continue comprehending the mess in front of her. Mega reached out to the lowest drawer from the counters, taking out several pieces of blue trash bags, before dumping the wastes into it.
To think that she actually thought of getting sleep after fajr.
Just like every other day, Mega picked up the plates on the floor; secretly thanking God that they were all made of plastic instead of ceramics. The broom then swept the crumbs off the floor, gathering it in one place before sweeping it straight into the dustpan. Before she could even do so, a gruff voice wearily greeted her, causing her to flinch.
“…morning.”
The man walked past the dust that she gathered on the floor, straight to the water dispenser to quench his thirst. Mega adjusted her spectacles before she stared at him from head to toes, analysing his shabby appearances from last night.
“You should take a bath.”
He turned around, glancing once at the girl that he took in two years ago. Nonchalantly, with a sip of water into his throat, he replied, “Later.”
“You smelled terrible.” There were some kinds of braveness possessing her soul, as the blatant criticism fell out of her mouth.
The man huffed at her words. “…why are you so noisy this early in the morning? Did you sleep on the wrong side of the bed?”
That could only happen if she did sleep last night.
The man strode to the fridge, grabbing a pear from the lower storage. His chewing was loud, intended to annoy the young girl. He would always do that, but usually she would zip her lips close. They said if you ignore a barking dog, they would later on stop. Attention was what the dog wanted and if you gave it to it, they would repeat the same action. She followed the quote, accurately, living like a ghost, who also cleaned the mess and got beaten occasionally. A ghost who wanted nothing but less drama in her life.
But today, she invited the drama in.
“What an animal.”
Those three words slipped out of her lips, and she continued sweeping. She had dug a grave for herself. It would probably her last one, ever, but she would not just back off this time. The small particles were swept into the dustpan, and there was a shadow hovering over the floor.
“What did you say?”
“You’re an animal.”
A slap.
“My mother would hate you.”
Two slaps.
“You disappoint her.”
Three slaps.
“I hate you.”
With an intense stare, Mega looked straight into the man’s eyes. Her mother had the same eyes. Light brown irises. Long lashes. Almond-shaped. Except, instead of warmth, his eyes were fuming with wrath, and in any seconds, she might be taking her last breath.
“You liked me though, when you were little. Don’t you remember?” His hands clenching Mega’s upper neck. She could feel her teeth grinding against each other, an excruciating pain tingling in her mouth. Her palms landed on his wrists, grasping it tight, trying to loosen his arms.
“S-stop…” Mega could barely muttered the word, as her breath felt shorter as time went by.
The man let out a huff, while tightening his clench. “You were always running and chasing me around back in the past. Uncle here, uncle there. You forgot that…?”
Mega did not.
Her childhood memories flashed in front of her eyes, and there were two figures, a sixteen-year-old guy with smiles and five years old Mega, laughing over the collapsed Jenga that they played. It was surreal, and for once, she wished that the scene were just a part of her fragmented illusions. She wished that those memories that she had with her mother’s cherished little brother were nothing but wishful thinking, but she was devastatingly wrong.
It was because she remembered that she acted this way. The memories made it harder for her to believe that the man who had always been catering to her ever since she was a child was the same guy who was strangling the nape of her neck at the moment. The emotions that she felt were bizarre – betrayal, anger, and resentment that she had to her own uncle. A monster of his own wrongdoings.
Drugs.
She was old enough to recognize the dozen packets of powder that she found in the drawer several months after her uncle took her into custody. She confronted the two about it and that was the first time it happened.
She was beaten for the first time.
That was how she realized the core reason to his changed behaviour before her parents passed away, several months after he got married to his current wife.
The week before her parent’s death, she remembered seeing her uncle and his wife storming out her parents’ room, the uncle with a dishevelled hair, a look that she had never seen on her uncle before. His neat and dandy image that she had from him was deeply distorted to the version of her uncle that she saw that day.
It was a shocking view.
From the ajar door, her mother stood there flustered, her palms wrapping her face with her father’s arms around her body. Her uncle did spot her peeking from her room, and she could see him flashing a slight smile, half-sincere before he rushed down the wooden stairs with loud thumps. Her aunt-in-law, on the other hand, approached her with a wince, patting her hair roughly before leaving, telling her not to worry about the two of them and her parents.
The flashes of memories faded and back in the present, Mega saw the wife standing there in the entrance of the kitchen, just staring blankly at his husband beating his flesh and blood. With a smirk.
Thuds.
Slaps.
Kicks.
Punches.
They were all numb now.
Her sight was a blurry photo, even with the broken spectacles on, and the silhouettes in front of her were dark. The piercing pain in her head kept on spinning and her whole body froze there on the floor, along side with the broom and the trash bags that she gathered just now. They were all on the same surface, with the two devils hovering over them with great dominance.
She let out a weak huff. Trash bags and Mega…both were not that far with each other.
The beating had yet to stop but the dark silhouettes seemed to fade away. The blurry photo was starting to turn cloudy, and it was almost as if she could see her parents standing there in front of her…waving cheerfully with bright smiles.
Her lips curled into a weak smile and slowly, her eyelids felt heavier as compared to the sleepless night that she had.
The dark was getting closer and at that exact moment, there were heavy steps rushing into the kitchen. A huge commotion. Through the limited vision, Mega could see a couple of men in uniforms and several men in casual wear, apprehending the huge, dark silhouette in front of her. The wife was in the arms several middle-aged women and one of them approached her closer with her lips mumbling in mute, her eyes exuding the warmth that her late mom had.
Maybe it was finally time.
It was finally time to escape this hell.
She sat on the chair at her desk, before flipping on the three-years old laptop. The bright LED shone on the glasses of her spectacles and her earphones were neatly plugged into her ears, with full volume, denoising the chaos outside the room.
The clacking plates and bottles in the kitchen, the constant shouts and yelling of different pitches and the random thuds that could deafen the whole household. It was almost similar like the nightmares she had the night before. Except she was already used to it. It should not be called nightmares anymore, lately it felt more like normal recurring dreams.
It was three in the morning. Mega cooped in her desk for the whole night, again, reading journal articles for the university assignments, interchanging with random Korean and Japanese entertainment videos to keep her awake. Her plan was to stay up until the fajr arrive, and then have a long nap after the prayer. It was the weekend after all, her brain would not be hating herself for forcing it to be in online classes for three hours straight after a sleepless night.
The shouting outside were now subdued, replaced with soft sobs. A gruff voice was consoling the sobs and she could imagine that the two being in each other arms, whispering superficial apologies and regrets. She could see it as if she were watching the 10th monthly reruns of the cliché drama series on television; because even when they aired different titles, each series seemed to share the same plot, conflict, climax, and resolution. Tear-jerking at first, stale at last. Slapping her cheeks lightly, Mega let a controlled sigh, her corneas displaying the deadest grave upon all.
Taking her spectacles off, her body pushed the office chair backwards before she got up and stepped into the bathroom to freshen herself. A splash to the face, an aggressive rub to the cheeks. As she looked up, straight into the mirror, she saw the dark spots under her brown eyes and a red bruise at the nape of her neck.
Intent stares.
Her dead eyes brightened at the sight of the hideous bruise, letting out a soulless chuckle. The bathroom was echoing with her chuckles and there in the mirror, the Mega that she saw was with the driest smile and a river dropping from the corner of her eyes.
The Mega in the mirror stood there, alone, with scars and bruises all over her upper body. A mess. She looked like nothing like the Mega from two years ago, way before the deadly pandemic, and way before her parents were taken away by a random drunk driver.
And way before she was taken into this personalized hell.
Fajr arrived as her eyes became heavier from staring the screen all night. After her prayer, she turned the doorknob and finally saw the recurring images that flashed in front of her eyes several hours ago.
Ah, a glimpse appearance of hell.
Carefully, Mega tiptoed her way to the kitchen to avoid any possible tiny shredded glasses which might be laying on the floor. She heard no sound of glasses breaking last night, but in this house, possibilities of getting injured were always available. The two devils, the match made in hell were scrawled in the living room, sleeping soundly after a rough night. A night that was common to them. They chose to live the difficult life, so they should be getting used to it, instead of complaining about the monstrosity that they created themselves.
The dining table was just like what she imagined it would be. Food packaging of different colours, all tore open and empty. Little transparent white packets were also lying there, on the table and she had to take a deep breath before she could continue comprehending the mess in front of her. Mega reached out to the lowest drawer from the counters, taking out several pieces of blue trash bags, before dumping the wastes into it.
To think that she actually thought of getting sleep after fajr.
Just like every other day, Mega picked up the plates on the floor; secretly thanking God that they were all made of plastic instead of ceramics. The broom then swept the crumbs off the floor, gathering it in one place before sweeping it straight into the dustpan. Before she could even do so, a gruff voice wearily greeted her, causing her to flinch.
“…morning.”
The man walked past the dust that she gathered on the floor, straight to the water dispenser to quench his thirst. Mega adjusted her spectacles before she stared at him from head to toes, analysing his shabby appearances from last night.
“You should take a bath.”
He turned around, glancing once at the girl that he took in two years ago. Nonchalantly, with a sip of water into his throat, he replied, “Later.”
“You smelled terrible.” There were some kinds of braveness possessing her soul, as the blatant criticism fell out of her mouth.
The man huffed at her words. “…why are you so noisy this early in the morning? Did you sleep on the wrong side of the bed?”
That could only happen if she did sleep last night.
The man strode to the fridge, grabbing a pear from the lower storage. His chewing was loud, intended to annoy the young girl. He would always do that, but usually she would zip her lips close. They said if you ignore a barking dog, they would later on stop. Attention was what the dog wanted and if you gave it to it, they would repeat the same action. She followed the quote, accurately, living like a ghost, who also cleaned the mess and got beaten occasionally. A ghost who wanted nothing but less drama in her life.
But today, she invited the drama in.
“What an animal.”
Those three words slipped out of her lips, and she continued sweeping. She had dug a grave for herself. It would probably her last one, ever, but she would not just back off this time. The small particles were swept into the dustpan, and there was a shadow hovering over the floor.
“What did you say?”
“You’re an animal.”
A slap.
“My mother would hate you.”
Two slaps.
“You disappoint her.”
Three slaps.
“I hate you.”
With an intense stare, Mega looked straight into the man’s eyes. Her mother had the same eyes. Light brown irises. Long lashes. Almond-shaped. Except, instead of warmth, his eyes were fuming with wrath, and in any seconds, she might be taking her last breath.
“You liked me though, when you were little. Don’t you remember?” His hands clenching Mega’s upper neck. She could feel her teeth grinding against each other, an excruciating pain tingling in her mouth. Her palms landed on his wrists, grasping it tight, trying to loosen his arms.
“S-stop…” Mega could barely muttered the word, as her breath felt shorter as time went by.
The man let out a huff, while tightening his clench. “You were always running and chasing me around back in the past. Uncle here, uncle there. You forgot that…?”
Mega did not.
Her childhood memories flashed in front of her eyes, and there were two figures, a sixteen-year-old guy with smiles and five years old Mega, laughing over the collapsed Jenga that they played. It was surreal, and for once, she wished that the scene were just a part of her fragmented illusions. She wished that those memories that she had with her mother’s cherished little brother were nothing but wishful thinking, but she was devastatingly wrong.
It was because she remembered that she acted this way. The memories made it harder for her to believe that the man who had always been catering to her ever since she was a child was the same guy who was strangling the nape of her neck at the moment. The emotions that she felt were bizarre – betrayal, anger, and resentment that she had to her own uncle. A monster of his own wrongdoings.
Drugs.
She was old enough to recognize the dozen packets of powder that she found in the drawer several months after her uncle took her into custody. She confronted the two about it and that was the first time it happened.
She was beaten for the first time.
That was how she realized the core reason to his changed behaviour before her parents passed away, several months after he got married to his current wife.
The week before her parent’s death, she remembered seeing her uncle and his wife storming out her parents’ room, the uncle with a dishevelled hair, a look that she had never seen on her uncle before. His neat and dandy image that she had from him was deeply distorted to the version of her uncle that she saw that day.
It was a shocking view.
From the ajar door, her mother stood there flustered, her palms wrapping her face with her father’s arms around her body. Her uncle did spot her peeking from her room, and she could see him flashing a slight smile, half-sincere before he rushed down the wooden stairs with loud thumps. Her aunt-in-law, on the other hand, approached her with a wince, patting her hair roughly before leaving, telling her not to worry about the two of them and her parents.
The flashes of memories faded and back in the present, Mega saw the wife standing there in the entrance of the kitchen, just staring blankly at his husband beating his flesh and blood. With a smirk.
Thuds.
Slaps.
Kicks.
Punches.
They were all numb now.
Her sight was a blurry photo, even with the broken spectacles on, and the silhouettes in front of her were dark. The piercing pain in her head kept on spinning and her whole body froze there on the floor, along side with the broom and the trash bags that she gathered just now. They were all on the same surface, with the two devils hovering over them with great dominance.
She let out a weak huff. Trash bags and Mega…both were not that far with each other.
The beating had yet to stop but the dark silhouettes seemed to fade away. The blurry photo was starting to turn cloudy, and it was almost as if she could see her parents standing there in front of her…waving cheerfully with bright smiles.
Her lips curled into a weak smile and slowly, her eyelids felt heavier as compared to the sleepless night that she had.
The dark was getting closer and at that exact moment, there were heavy steps rushing into the kitchen. A huge commotion. Through the limited vision, Mega could see a couple of men in uniforms and several men in casual wear, apprehending the huge, dark silhouette in front of her. The wife was in the arms several middle-aged women and one of them approached her closer with her lips mumbling in mute, her eyes exuding the warmth that her late mom had.
Maybe it was finally time.
It was finally time to escape this hell.
the end
________________________________
Author's note:
I wrote this one in mid-2021 for a class assignment. Personally love it, despite how dark the story had gotten as I continued writing. Though, I don't think it helped much with my grade for the particular subject, but that just might be me, who had intelligently strayed away from the original instructions, and my hopes of overcompensating my marks with this story.
Would love to know how you feel about the story.
Thank you so much for reading.
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