Romans & histoires You're An Irredeemable Monster

His words shook my world if it’s not shaken enough by him. He defined himself as a monster and not just any kind of monster. They have their own kind, their own breed, and that’s what scares me the most. I had heard about them and I don’t want to acknowledge what I know about them because if I do, I know…that there is no redemption for me..even the slightest ounce of hope will not be visible. The door creaks open and forbids me if I wanted to just run into the corner of his room and get the blade believing that it might protect me from them.

I stay silent. He grips harder, pulling until my scalp burns. "You think staying quiet will make you look innocent?" he spits. "You're a fucking monster. An abomination. Everyone knows what you are." My jaw tightens. Ares growls. 'Let me kill him. Just one. Just this one.' I exhale slowly, already feeling the bloodlust stirring. The interrogator laughs under his breath. "You really don't get it, do you?" he says. "Things aren't looking good for you."

And that terrified him. Kristen had looked at him like he was more than a monste, like he was a good man. And deep down, he believed her. But belief is dangerous. It makes you soft. And softness is fatal in his world. Carlo collapses into a chair, overwhelmed. He’s a feared man, a killer. But now he’s haunted by the memory of Kristen’s breathless gasp, the warmth of her skin, and the sound of her crying behind a locked door.

"The words... they cut deeper than the Adriatic’s scalpels, Panni. Because part of me... the part that still lives in the dark... believed them. I looked at you and I didn't see a woman. I saw my masterpiece. I saw the only thing in this world that made me feel like I wasn't a monster." "You are a monster," I said, a soft, tearful smile breaking through my terror. I leaned in, my lips brushing the silver-pulsing vein at his temple. "You’re my monster. And I’m your malfunction. We were never meant to be perfect, Jinyan. We were meant to be this."

“The same way you deceived me into thinking you loved me is the same way you deceived Lola. And now look at you—just today, you almost injured her. And you expect people to believe you’ve changed?” I took a breath, then delivered the final blow. “You just proved the quote right: Once a monster, always a monster. That’s what you are, Theodore. A monster. And no matter what you do, no matter how many documents you sign or lies you tell, I don’t believe you’ll ever change.”

Shit, why am I even surprised by that with the kind of parents I have. "They said you're a monster. You don't look like a monster to me." His voice broke into my train of thought. This fool! How could he still say I don't look like a monster when I just literally told him the shackles binding me were the only thing stopping me from draining his blood? He was obviously too innocent to understand that real monsters don't look bizarre and deformed. Real monsters are real people. They're family. They're your mother, father... The people who are closest to you.

"You ungrateful little bitch! We never should have brought you back! You were a curse from the day you were born! A cold, emotionless monster!" There it was. The truth they’d painted over with family photos and forced dinners. A monster. Maybe he was right. "Finally, something we agree on," I said, my voice eerily pleasant. I slammed my palm down on the cheap IKEA coffee table between us. "I am a monster. And monsters eat their young. Get out. Now." The sound wasn't a slam. It was a crack. A spiderweb of fractures erupted from under my hand, racing across the laminated surface. Then, with a groan of surrendering particleboard, the entire table collapsed into a heap of splinters and shame.

I had nothing to lose and I didn’t care about losing to start with. I was an outcast, something more inferior to a slave because of what I am. I was labeled as a monster even before I began to exist. I tried to be good. I did everything I could. It didn’t work so I became bad. I became worst and put Satan to shame. The past disrupts me. It makes Rey violent. It brings out the monster in me who likes the taste of blood and the smell of fear. I keep this part suppressed in my deepest depths. Those who’ve seen this part of me know who I truly am.

You're a monster. That right there is the source of all my anger. She see's me as a monster. Fuck, yeah, I'm one. Punch. There are fucking monsters everywhere in the world. Punch. Punch. You've got to be a special type of monster to ride this world, or you become the prey. Punch. Punch. Punch. Fuck if I want to become one. Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch My surroundings disappear as I mentally go back in time to my fighting days.

The anticipation radiating through their connection was so intense it made her nauseous. "I've lost that faith," Iris admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "The man I loved is gone, consumed by something that wears his face but carries none of his compassion. How can I believe in redemption when I can feel the monster's satisfaction every time it remembers his victims' fear?"