For The Different Monster

Prologue

She sat there, in the dark, on her over sized beige leather chair. Her knees are pulled to her chest. Eyes closed. A single tear is rolling down her cheek. She's wrapped in the orange blanket that was draped over her mother when she took her last breath...the one and only item that she has left of her. The book 'Duma Key' by Stephen King is open face down over the arm of the chair. Trying to read a bit earlier, she couldn't focus on the words. Her mind kept drifting to a time, not so long ago, when she realized that things would never be the same again.

Things weren't always bad. There was always a gem of a moment here and there that shined bright in the middle of all the shit. These little moments where the monster that she came to know wasn't so sinister, brief moments of peace. He would put on his mask and make her feel loved and cherished. On the occasional weekend outing, they would take the ferry into the city, walk around the French Market, stop off at Cafe du Monde for some beignets and cafe au lait. She loved checking out the little obscure shops scattered about, and found the voodoo shops to be most interesting. He gave her whiplash with the way his personality changed.

With every outing came the reality of also having to go back home. Back on the ferry, crossing the river, anxiety set inside of her. Her life had become engulfed with the fear of waiting on the next time that thing, whatever it was, snapped inside of him. Just waiting... waiting between the moments of hell, and the gems. The highest of highs and the lowest of lows. It was a roller coaster ride for years. She was always a nervous disaster and most days stayed locked inside, waiting and attempting to prepare for which character would walk through the door. A true Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde nightmare... it was starting to take its toll on her.

She was tired of the pain, tired of being his plaything, his punching bag, his doormat. She was losing herself or maybe was already lost. She felt like just a shell of what she used to be and had to do something. She knew the next time that switch inside of him flipped, that could be the last of her days. Calling the police was not an option, many of them were friends of his. She didn't trust anyone who chose to keep the company of this man. We've all heard the saying 'birds of a feather flock together', and in her experience, that's been true. He's kept her secluded, cut off from everyone; she has no family, no friends. He towers over her. He has her exactly where he wants her. She's small and frail, meek and powerless. One well placed punch, at only half his strength, has knocked her out for days. Those were the easy days, not knowing what he did to her while she was unconscious was a blessing. Her mistake was opening her eyes again and facing the excruciating pain that lingered after one of his torture sessions. She's had enough.

She's planning on taking matters into her own hands, not knowing how or when. The only thing that is certain to her, is that death is too good for him. She wants to hurt him, and wants him to live the rest of his days tortured and tormented. She wants him to feel the fear that she feels. Every, fucking, day. Something starts growing inside of her. Her thoughts are starting to come together, and a plan starts brewing. She has studied the traditions, the beliefs and the rituals of the people indigenous to this area, the swamps she's lived in her whole life. Little did she know that the blood of these people, her unknown ancestors, coursed through her veins. In that blood, she's inherited a special and dark gift. A gift that she is unaware of, until she meets an unusual stranger that shows her how powerful the darkness within her can be.

As she sat there, wrapped in her mother's blanket, the sun is starting to rise and the first break of daylight starts shining through the window; she knows that tonight is the night. It will be either a new beginning or a tragic end. Either way, she believes she is ready to face this daunting task. Looking out the window, contemplating the things that will happen tonight, a quote from her favorite author is thrust to the forefront of her thoughts, and sends a shiver down her spine...

"Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win."

Brooke started to wonder if she was becoming the monster she had always feared.

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^{Dear Reader,

I have been encouraged recently to write more. I've had this story in my head for years now. This is my first attempt at getting it out for you to read. I accept any advice and any criticism that you may have, leave it in the comments just please be gentle. I hope you have enjoyed reading. Stay tuned for Chapter 1.

Thanks for stopping by y'all!

Love, Monch🐝
Special thanks to @calumam for editing and helping me make this look awesome!! You rock!!}