A Monster Loves Me

A Monster Loves Me

People run in the streets, loot stores, fight over small things like the last pack of gum, or produce that would spoil in a day. To think that he could do all this... Just one person. All of California has been quarantined. I don't know how you quarantine a state, but that's what's been being said on the news. No one leaves and no one gets in.

My name is Kelsey. I live in Pacific Grove, CA. There is only 15,295 people in the city.

I hide in my house, the only company in my closet with me is my cat and dog. My parents had just left for a vacation a week ago. The day before the attack; how ironic. I have limited food and the power has been cut out in many houses, but luckily I'm not in one of those houses. I live in an apartment. It's nice and big. It's where we used to play games and talk all night. I miss him.

I don't know why it happened. How it happened. It just doesn't make sense to me. Is it my fault? Why didn't he tell me?

Day 1

Part 1

"Hey, you know where the remote is? It was just here..." I ask, looking between the cushions of my couch.

"Right here," he said nonchalantly, waving it lazily in his left hand.

"Give it here." He shakes his head.

"I'm sick of this show. Who cares about these bitches?" he says and smiles at me. I glare. "Yes, it's funny, but we watch it all of the time. Let's watch something with action!" He brings up the guide and goes to Wipe Out.

"These people are horrible!"

"Are they worse than the dance moms?"

"No," I reply. I let it go and allow him watch it. I lean into him and close my eyes. He smells so nice. He watches three episodes and I fall asleep during the second episode.

He wakes me up with a fit of coughs.

"You okay?" I ask. He has been coughing often for the last two weeks or so. He has these pills in his pocket everywhere he goes. I always ask him if he is sick but he just turns around and tries to convince me he is fine. "Hicky? C'mon, just tell me whats wrong," I say patiently. He is in the kitchen now and is taking his pills with a glass of tap water.

"I'm fine. Must you call me 'Hicky'? I hate it. Even after years of you calling me that. It was an accident!"

"It was funny. Gross, but funny. Who gives someone a hicky while sleeping? That happened to my mom in a plane once. I'm not gonna stop calling you that, so get used to it. I let you call my Soap, don't I?"

"Yeah... but that's funnier than the hicky. You tried washing out your mouth with soap. Who does that?" he says pointedly, turning around with a smile. "Hey, Soap, I think I'm gonna go home now."

My eyebrows wrinkle. "It was an experiment. And you just got here. Why do you wanna leave?"

"Soap, I've been here for four hours. First come and kiss me goodbye." He smiles and picks up his black backpack. I walk over and let him hug me. He kisses me softly. "Bye." I slip a quarter in his pocket. I give him a quarter every time he gives me a good kiss. He does the same for me. We wanna see who gives better kisses, seeing which jar fills up faster.

When I slip it in, his pills fall on the floor and scatter. They are black; I've never seen them before. "Sorry!" I say and pick them up. I hear a grunt that turns into a muffles shout. "Gottago!" he says with a slur and leaps for the door.

"Hey! Come back!" I say and follow him out of the door.

"Don't look!" he shouts. He leaps down the stairs and sprints around the corner. I'm shocked.

I ignore his demand and run after him, stepping on something sharp. I cry out in pain, but I ignore it and I've already turned the corner and see him. I feel my eyes widen and my hands come to my mouth.

The people outside are screaming. I don't really understand why every building in the neighborhood is trashed and broken except my apartment complex. My cat and dog had been in my room in the very beginning. They are smart, so when something didn't feel right, they went under the bed, even my husky. I don't know how he fit, but he did. I wanted to board the doors and windows, but I don't have wood and if I did, I still wouldn't know how to use it. I shoved heavy furniture in front on the front and sliding door. The best I could do with the windows was close the curtains. The only light I have in my house is the light in my hiding place closet. I occasionally go to get something to eat, nothing big, maybe a yogurt. I don't eat much food anyway. I wonder what my parents think. I hope they're okay...

The danger now is the looters and criminals, not Hicky. I wonder where he is. It is... I don't know which to use. Is Hicky a he or an it? I live in a nice apartment, but not nice enough to have a security system. The first 2 days of this hell I sat on the couch with then news on all day. No one but me has seen him/it up close. The media makes him/it look bigger than he/it is. The news say Hicky has killed people. I just can't believe that. Not Hicky. I think I would have noticed this after dating him (I will call Hicky a he for now) for three years. Since we were fourteen. My birthday is seventeen days from now. Soon I will be an adult. Will I be dead by then? I don't want to think like that, but I can't help it. Tears stream down my cheeks. I've taken one shower. I'm scared to turn on the water, like it would attract attention to the outsiders. It's ridiculous; of course no one outside would hear it but still I'm terrified of someone breaking in since this is the only building intact in most of the city. I think I might do that. I would want to survive.

Day 1

Part 2

Hicky in on his knees, head bent and arms around it. I see only a small part of his face through his shaggy hair. I see his eye looking at me with small tears escaping; he hates crying.

His body trembles and right before he closes his eye, I see it was blue. Hicky's eyes are brown. Then, small rugged things, what do I call them? They aren't horns. They are like those aquatic spine pattern that sticks up like fish. But he looks nothing like a fish. His legs change into a muscular shape like a lion on steroids. It's not fur, but skin. His face turns black and he looks like an animal. He has lost his hair and strange ear-like things have come out of his head, like Toothless the dragon from How to Train Your Dragon. A terrifying Toothless is the closest thing I can call him, though his face isn't as wide and he has no tail or wings. He is still for a few seconds then he looks at me and I want to run, but I'm frozen in fear. I always thought adrenaline makes you move fast. Stupid science teacher has no fucking idea how this feels. It looks at me and snarls, exposing sharp teeth. I squeal and fall on my ass. What do I do? He leaps over me and smashes into a house's wall and the house crumbles. I didn't see anyone come out.

"Josh!" I shout and get up. I pull the small shard of glass out of my foot and sprint after him. "Josh come back!" (In case you haven't figured it out, his real name is Josh. I gave up on trying to get him to tell me his last name last year.) I lose sight of him almost immediately.

I just stay there, on the curb. An alarm comes on, the alarm meaning evacuate the city. I'm so shocked I don't even feel any of the fear of that sound. To the left of me, there is an explosion. I don't know what it is. Maybe I don't want to know what it is. I look down. I'm in my tank top and my short comfy shorts, something I would never wear in public. I sit on the curb and put my face in my hands. How long am I going to stay here?

The alarm keeps wailing.

I walk up the stairs to my empty home, limping. It doesn't hurt too bad, and I know it's not too bad a wound, but it is still uncomfortable. I walk in, closing the open door behind me. I sigh and go to my room. Maybe it's a dream? Everyone who has something bad happen to them asks the same question: is this really happening?

The alarm stopped wailing 3 days ago but it still echoes I my head. I really don't understand anything. Why all of California? Why Hicky? Has he been hiding this for as long as I knew him? I don't think I really wanted him to tell me, but what would I have done if he had?

Day 2

Part 1

I sit on the couch the whole day, too tired to do anything else. I didn't sleep at all last night. It's really hard to hear the news when there's a siren wailing all day, let alone sleep. It seems that people believe there will be more... monsters. I don't think there will. I just don't. His figure is still imprinted in my eyes, so every time I close my eyes, I see him snarling at me. I sluggishly get up from the couch and make my way into the kitchen. There's barely any food. Apparently he ate everything. I have to get food. But what is it like out there? Its so quiet except for the siren.

I want to bring Shelly, my husky, out to seem like a vicious dog who will defend me, but he's a wimp, weaker than my cat, so that's not an option. I put on shoes and take a backpack for the food, and also a knife and a bottle of pepper spray I found in my mom's closet. I don't know if it even works, but it looks menacing.

I open the door slowly and peek my head out; no one is around. I quietly leave and lock the 2 dead bolts and the weaker one in the knob. I get on my bike and ride through the empty streets, trying not to look at all the smashed house and the ones on fire.

When I turn the corner onto the main street, I see the looters and crying people. I lock my bike against a tree in the shadows and run through the crowds. There are lots of big men with tattoos in front of a Luckys store. They intimidate me, since I'm pretty small. I run to the Safeway a block away. The lotto machines are pushed over, which is stupid. It's only been a day, so why would the store be such a disaster? I almost laugh when I see somebody looting a Starbucks. There are no workers, so who would make you a coffee? But I don't laugh. I keep moving. Down the frozen foods, then the produce, which would spoil, and go to the canned isle. I shove almost everything on the shelf into my backpack, then go back for a Pepsi. It's all I found. I can't believe anything fit in this tiny backpack, but it's pretty heavy so I don't stuff anything else in. I run past the cash registers and someone yells, "You gonna pay for that?"

I ignore him and run again through the street. I look up and see a jet. It's high up, but it still worries me. I get off the ground and run to my broken bike. The chain is off and the tire is flat. Fuck.

I leave it behind and sprint to the apartment, hurting my foot more than it did before. When I get to the door I fumble with the key and open it when I see someone across the street holding a gun to someone else, fighting over gasoline. I close the door swiftly behind me and hear the gun shot. I feel like throwing up, but I don't. I take a pillow and scream into it. Why did this happen?

I put all the heavy furniture against the door and close the blinds on the windows.

I pull everything out of the backpack and put it all on the counter: the best I got was three cans of soup. You can't use spaghetti sauce if I have no spaghetti. I have some green beans, but ironically I'm allergic. At least I have the Pepsi. I obviously didn't pay attention to what was on the shelf. Idiot.

On the five o'clock news, it shows the police station in ruins. Fire trucks and police cars are a mess around the building, so bad none can get out. There are gaping holes in the ground. I don't know how those got there, and the woman doesn't explain.

Just as I turn around to take a much needed shower, I hear a helicopter and see military men sliding off. There's only maybe 2 dozen of them. There's also a van with people in suits walking about with the military soldiers escorting them. They must think Hicky is a failed experiment. Maybe he is, but they're a bit too late to do anything about it.

Day 3

Yesterday went by slowly. During around lunch time the sirens went off. The second it turns off, I fall onto the couch and sleep. The sounds of screams and shouts echo, but I'm used to it so I sleep soundly. Until the nightmares. I'm keeping the Pepsi closed in case I need to stay awake from the caffeine. I don't drink coffee, and neither do my parents.

I dream of Hicky and me, happy, until he suddenly stabs me and takes his pills from me. He pours them on the ground and steps on them, turning into that thing again.

I wake screaming and crying. I don't sleep at all the rest of the day.

Day 4

Today, I see myself in the mirror and gasp. My eyes are red, bags under my eyes, long brown hair matted. That's right; I haven't showered since the day before the... incedent. I haven't changed either, so when I get in the bath, the clothes seem to peel off. I sit in the tub with my pets next to it. I talk to them like they are my diary. Shelly looks so tired. My cat, Missy, sleeps the whole time. I've been feeding them, but not canned food, just dry food. I've been debating whether I will get desperate enough to try and cook their canned meat.

I stay in the bath for an hour, and then finally start to get paranoid since I can't hear anything from outside. I pull the towel on and visit my room. I haven't been in here because it's near the back of the apartment, and I want to be right there if something happens. I pull a green tank top over my hair, which is in a messy ponytail. I put on knee length sports shorts and under my shirt I have a sports bra. I put the dirty clothes in the laundry basket, wondering whether I will ever be able to wash my clothes. When I toss my comfy shorts in, something falls out of the pocket. I didn't realize I had been keeping Hicky's mysterious pill container in my pocket. I pick them up and sit on the floor, running my finger across the opening. I slowly open it and see semi-normal black pill capsules. I wonder what would happen if I swallowed one... but I don't. I may be tired and crazy, but I'm not stupid like when I washed my mouth out with a bar of soap. When me and Hicky were fourteen, we tried to read every book in my house, and in one of them, the mother washed her daughter's mouth with soap for swearing. When Hicky read it, he laughed and said because I swear all of the time that I should try it. So I did. I almost threw up, but I didn't. Hicky's nickname is from when we were fifteen, we rode the bus back to my home because his bike fell into the ocean off the pier and I refused to have him on my handle bars. He fell asleep leaning on my shoulder and somehow gave me a hicky. I shouted "gross!" on the bus and he fell off the seat. The other people on the bus either laughed or looked disapprovingly at us. I've never described what he looks like. He's pretty tall, at least a foot taller than me, and is kinda skinny. Not super skinny, but not to muscly. He has shaggy black hair and brown eyes. He is not hot to me, like he was to my other friends. It's weird, but I describe him as "beautiful". When I told my friends that, they laughed at me. Maybe I will tell some more stories about our past later, because thinking about them now hurts my heart.

When I go back to the living room, I hear struggling on stairs next to my apartment; I go in the closet and hide with Shelly and Missy.

Present

Chapter 1

In my closet, I hear someone knock on the door. I jump and start to panic. Someone is trying to break in. I silently leave the closet and pull a knife from the kitchen counter, not that I was going to open the door, but just in case. I'm almost at the door when I hear: "Soap."

I freeze and drop the knife. It clatters loudly. What do I do? I look through the peep hole and see him as him, not the scary monster that ripped apart the town. I want him in my arms again, but I don't open the door. "Please let me in," he pleads. I hesitate. Fine.

I slide the dresser to the wall next to the door, also taking the chairs into the living room. I look back through the peep hole and open the door. I pick up the knife and put it on the table next to the door.

I gasp when I see him. He has blood trickling through his mouth and bruises all over his body. His shirt is tied around his arm, soaked with blood. There's also a nasty, untreated gash on his chest. He collapses forward and knocks the breath out of me. I pull him off and drag his body in and close the door, locking it, but not barricading it in case I need to leave. Wow, I trust him so much.

I turn him on his back and stare at him. He looks so unfamiliar. Blood has gotten onto the carpet. I really should have taken some medicine from the Rite Aid next to the Safeway. I walk to the bathroom and pull out the first aid kit, and also pull clothes from my parent's room, and the sheet from my room.

I walk slowly back to his body and cry. I touch his bloody black hair and run my fingers through it, like I always do. It's sticky and leaves red smears on my fingers. I compose myself and clean his wound. He's still breathing, so that is reassuring... I think.

I go back to the bathroom and bring the shampoo out. I don't care about the carpet anymore; it's soiled anyway. I fill a bucket of warm water and wash his hair. He doesn't even wake up when I dump the water on him. I clean the rest of his chest and put Neosporin on his gashes. I'm not gonna wash his legs, they're in pants anyway. But I decide to wash the small scratches through the ripped holes in his pants.

I try to shake him up, pour more water, even slap him but he still doesn't wake up. I pick up the pill bottle and bring a class of tap water and softly open his mouth, setting the little black pill on his tongue and lift his head to drink the water. He swallows it and after a few minutes, opens his eyes. He looks up at me, seeing me sit a few feet away, with the knife behind me. He frowns minutely, but then it disappears. He moves his arm across his chest.

"Don't," I say quietly. "I just treated it. Leave it alone."

"Oh, okay." he runs his fingers across his face, looking for blood.

"I said don't," I say quietly. "I just treated you." I look away and realize I probably have blood all over my clothes.

His eyes widen a little and I feel vulnerable for some reason. "That's not yours, is it?" I shake my head.

"I washed your hair and your face, and the scratches on your legs, but I couldn't get your back. You're too big for me to lift. Can you roll over?"

He nods and cries out in pain while he turns over. I rush to my room and put a pillow under his chest. I get up and get another towel and rubbing alcohol and Neosporin. I dab the smeared blood on his back and warn him it will hurt, but not to scream too loud. He nods.

I wet a paper towel with rubbing alcohol and dab his wound with it. He shifts under the pillow. "Don't move," I say forcefully and he stays still. I'm out of gauze, so I tie the ripped up cloth from my dad's shirt and wrap it around his back and chest. "Okay I'm done. You can move now, but carefully, and I don't mean your careful. I mean my careful." He nods and slowly sits up and stares at me. When I see one of his eyes is still blue, I have to look away. It's just too much. I feel like we're both waiting for the other to speak. He speaks first.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..." he says quietly. I don't reply. I'm waiting for the eye to change back to brown, however long that takes. He looks up and stares at me. I focus on only his right eye and when it finally changes back to its original color, I let out a sigh. He reaches his hand towards me, but I scoot away. I guess I'm just a coward. I should trust him, forgive him, love him. His hand stays mid-reach for a few seconds, then he closes his eyes and slowly brings it down to his lap.

"Can I borrow your dad's clothes?" he asks hesitantly. He must feel awkward being bloody and half naked. We didn't rush the relationship, so seeing him half naked isn't normal.

"Yeah. I should change too." I get up and walk around him. Once my back is to him, and he can't see me, tears pour down my face.

I squeak and cringe, startled, when he hugs me from behind. My body stays ridged. He hugs me tighter. My tears drip to my chin and fall onto his hands. He turns me around and kisses me. I don't kiss him back, I don't do anything. His lips taste likeblood. I slowly pull away from him and he looks devastated. "Do you still love me?"

"Yes."

"Then why won't you touch me?"

"How many people have you killed?" I ask forwardly. He frowns.

"I- I don't know. I don't remember..."

"You don't remember? How many did you kill?!" I step closer. "Tell me!"

"It's not like that! I don't remember anything about what happened! One second I'm looking at your terrified face behind the complex and my body lights on fire and then I come back and I'm hidden in an alleyway with nothing on. I broke into a house and took the clothes. My body was covered in blood and I don't know why, or if it was even mine. I came here, the only home I have. You're the only home I have. Please, forgive me. I love you and I can't live without you."

"I'm sorry. It's not your fault, its mine."

"Huh?"

"I dropped those pills and I bugged you about it. But why didn't you tell me?"

"I never was going to tell you. It didn't affect us in anyway, so why do that to you? To us..." I reach out my hands and put them again his bandaged chest hesitantly, but only for a second. Then I pull them back to my sides.

"How long..?"

"The whole time," he whispers. "Ever since I can remember..."

"Then why did I never notice the pills?" I ask.

"Because I had a vaccine. It lasts for 4 years, and I broke the last one I had a few weeks ago. I was running out of the pills anyway. It would've happed even if you hadn't dropped them. Do you still have them?"

"Yes. I woke you up with one. Do you need one?" I ask.

"No. One a day-"

"-keeps the doctor away..." I mutter.

I back away and walk into my room. I look for some less exposing clothes; some yoga pants and an elbow sleeved t-shirt. When I shut my door and walk into the hallway, I can hear him rustling in my parents' room. Curious, I open the door. He's in his boxers pulling up some jeans. I don't feel awkward at all. That shows that something is wrong with me, with us.

I sit on the couch and turn the news on. Nothing is different than it was, except you can see more of the military soldier searching across the streets. They aren't very close to mine, but it's a small town, so they will get here eventually. I'm surprised the cable is still working. I don't turn to see Hicky walk in and sit on the floor by my legs.

"Why were you so ripped up and bloody?" I ask quietly.

"I woke up in an alley and was surrounded by broken windows. A dog attacked me also." (Speaking of dogs, I think Shelly and Missy are still in the closet.)

"Well, I'm glad you're safe."

"Mmm... can you forgive me? Ever? I love you so much I don't want you to hate me or leave me. Please say you forgive me, please."

"I forgive you," I lie. "Just don't do this to me again."

"I can't promise that. I'm sorry. It'll-" he cuts short. "What's that noise?"

"I don't know. But- Ahh!" I scream as I'm thrown toward the wall. Bombs. They're bombing us. Hicky runs behind me and catches me. It would've been cooler if he was really far away, because he was two feet away from me.

"What did you do?! What's worth bombing us?!" I shout at him from under the counter.

"I told you I don't know! What did you see on the news?"

I hadn't seen him on the news. The news said practically nothing about what did all of the terrible things, so I guess I don't even know if he did most of it. Maybe somebody was taking advantage of the panic? I mean, the military came. They're a bit late, I think.

"I saw nothing. Nothing of you. I only saw the devastation and panic. Maybe it's not your fault they're bombing. Maybe it's something different..."

"So it might not have been me?" It makes me so sad at how full of hope those words had.

"No."

But I don't believe a word I said.

He smiles although one of his cuts has started to bleed again. I'm very lucky I didn't get any serious wounds from the shattering glass. My ears are ringing and I have a headache, but that's not too bad.

He feels his pocket to make sure his pills are still there and pulls me swiftly out from behind the counter. Shelly and Missy have disappeared, and I hope they are okay. They might be better off not being with me... it still makes me so sad. I will find them as soon as I can.

He pulls me over his back, a stupid thing to do. He can't hold me at all and he ruined his bandages. Stupid. I shove away from him.

"What are you doing?! Your cuts probably just opened up again."

"Fine. Go get some shoes on. There's so much... debris, outside. Hurry!" I turn around and lace up some sturdy boots. I run out of the apartment, and turn around to see him limping.

"Can't you, like magically heal yourself or something? Was that not part of the package deal?" I look around, looking for soldiers, and then turn around to see him no longer limping, but shaking with tremors.

"Run!" Hicky shouts at me, and I run; down the stairs, across the lawn and jump over the fence surrounding the posh apartment complex.

Chapter 2

I sprint down the street and stumble into a flower store. Even the freaking flowers were looted. I find the cashier's counter and crawl under it, wishing I had brought a knife. I risk being seen and reach up onto the top of the counter and grope for something sharp. Scissors. Good enough. I slowly bring myself out of view and under the counter again, cradling the scissors like they're my life line. The probably are.

I hear constant gun shots and screams, and wonder if Hicky is the one making people scream. I cry as quietly as I can, and hug my knees to my chest. My neck starts to cramp from the position under the desk. It's been quiet for a while, and I can't stay under the counter forever, so I stand up slowly and walk to the broken windows to look outside. Bodies are everywhere. Some are dead from being shot, and others are ripped apart. I throw up on the sidewalk. It stinks outside, and I wonder if some of these bodies had been here even before I hid a few hours ago.

I have nowhere to go, so I head home. To my wrecked apartment.

Chapter 3

I hold the scissors at my side, staying alert. I don't know who I'm more afraid of, the soldiers, looters or Hicky.

I climb up a tree next to the complex and drop down onto the lawn next to the pool. The building is on fire. I go to a panel with a fire extinguisher in a glass case. I slam the scissors into it and the glass shatters. I worry because it was a very loud noise.

I rush to my house and climb up what's left of the stairs; I'm very athletic. I'm on the track team and when track season is over, I switch to another sport and I wonder if I will ever play a sport again. The thought makes me sad.

I open the unlocked door to see that it's not as bad as it seems. I extinguish the fire right in front of the door and rush into the apartment. I'm surprised that the only damage really is the windows are shattered on the wall that faces out back patio. It's a bit smoky, too. I'm worried about Shelly and Missy so I go around the apartment looking for them, but only find Shelly cowering in our closet. Missy is nowhere to be seen. Maybe she got away, maybe not. I will probably never find out.

I find sheets and duct tape and cover the broken windows with the sheets, taping around the edges. It's the best I can do.

I turn on the TV, and nothing happens. Looks like the powerlines are down, or nobody is even at the cable station, or whatever it's called. I only now notice that the power is out. It had been brighter with the windows open, but now that they're closed, it's dark. Very dark. I search for flashlights and candles. I even find a hanging lamp that people end up using in horror movies. That's not a reassuring thought. I bring a book from my room and bring some pillows and a blanket into the closet and read until I fall asleep.

I wake up and its day time; I can tell because of the light shining through the thin blankets taped over the broken windows. Shelly is sleeping on the couch. I hope no one comes back. I hope Hicky doesn't come back... I just want to be alone until I starve to death or get out of this situation.

I ration the soup and I pour some spaghetti sauce into a glass and drink it; the water doesn't work anymore and neither does the toilet. It tastes awful because it's cold, and would probably taste awful if it was warm anyway. Now that I can't cook anything, eating the canned food isn't an option. I resort to drinking out of the bath tub, with what I left from my last bath.

While I'm drinking, I hear banging on the front door. No matter who it is, it's trouble. I pack up the can of soup left, fill a canteen with bath water, grab a knife, and put on a jacket. I clip Shelly's leash on as quickly as possible and we jump off the balcony into bushes at the same moment the door bursts open. I get some scratches, but otherwise we're fine. We run, going nowhere in particular. There is no place left to go.

We walk down the road for a long time, and my feet ache. Poor Shelly is still shaking. We named him Shelly because when we went to the beach with him as a puppy, he started eating the sea shells. Of course we stopped him, but the name stuck. We turned into a plaza with some restaurants and walking into the closest one. It was a diner, with lots of flipped tables and broken glass. I ignored the people killed with knives on the floor and walking into the back. There was no food left, so I looked in the garbage. Lots of food! I pull Shelly over and we eat out of the trash, whatever we could find that wasn't modly. It would be embarrassing if it weren't the best thing that's happened in days. I find coffee in the back, moldy. I search the shelves and find bags of coffee and syrup and dough. I try to make the coffee but it tastes gross and the consistency is like mud. How do you make something so gross out of coffee? I look around some more and find the bathroom. The water works! I wash out my canteen and fill it up with tap water. I get a cereal bowl and let Shelly drink for a few minutes. He just ate some pancakes so I hope it doesn't upset his stomach. I use the bathroom and then we leave.

That's when I hear the shouting.

Chapter 4

I should run. That would be the smart thing to do, but I don't. I drag Shelly with me around the corner and see some military vehicles parked at the edge of the lot. I crane my neck and see Hicky trying to talk to them, his palms up. No one is listening. Why would they? I know I wouldn't. I've grown so cold hearted. He's still Hicky, he just has some... problems. He's always had them. Yeah, well he should have told me, another part on my mind says. Would I have told him if I was in his situation? Probably not.

The soldiers shout at him, but I can't tell what they're saying, and they obviously don't trust of believe whatever he's saying. His shirt is in tatters but his skin is healed. He never did answer my question. That's when he gets shot in the thigh. He cries out in pain, but also because his pill container flies out of his pocket and the little pills fall into the mud. Suddenly he changes again and rips the soldiers apart. I turn away and back slowly into the ice cream shop next to us. I clamp my hand around Shelly's muzzle so he won't bark and pull him with me. He knocks into the counter and a spoon clatters to the tile. I yank him back and hide in a corner. I pant, trying not to hyperventilate, but I start to anyway. Loud, sharp gasping sounds come from me.

I hear loud steps and put my hands over my mouth, eyes wide and tears falling down my cheeks in fear. Hicky walks into the store, only his head and front legs fitting. He sees me and snarls, his lips pulling up to show rows of sharp teeth. You know how I compared him to Toothless earlier? Well, I was wrong. His... snout...is longer and his eyes are blue slits. He has sharp spikes pushing out of his spine and he is bulky. He's horrifying. I hate him. I hate everyone in this stupid world. I hate my parents for leaving me. I hate Missy for running away, I hate Shelly for knocking the spoon over and I hate myself for ever loving someone who would keep this a secret. I lied when I healed him. I don't know if I love him. I'm so angry. I take a tub and throw it at his face.

"Leave me alone!" I scream at him. An expression of hurt flashes over his unnatural face, and he looks like Hicky, and also not at all.

But he doesn't leave. He lays down in front of me, and I have no way to get out. Shelly whimpers and wets himself. I hug him and then let him jump over Hicky and run away. I can't stand to let him be so afraid. Hicky doesn't pay any attention to him, just stares at me. I turn my head away from him and walk a little further into a back room I didn't notice before. There's no exit, but there's lots of ice cream. If I'm going to die, I at least want to die from eating too much ice cream, so I pick up an ice cream scooper and walk back into the front room.

I sit against the wall and stare at him blankly while shoving chocolate ice cream into my face. We stay like that for a while. If only I could shove a pill into his mouth. He wouldn't have time to be surprised. There's no point in staying in this shop. I might as well risk leaving than staying here. I changed my mind and I don't want to die by eating too much ice cream. That would be embarrassing.

I squeeze myself between the wall and the side of his muscular leg, then I break out sprinting towards the mud. I try to ignore the gruesome scene of ripped up bodies, intestines laying here and there. I grab a gun and run to the mud. I get on my knees and dig. I find the pills! Luckily they are capsules and not the kind that dissolve. I turn around and see the monster standing a few yards away from me. I point the gun at him and slowly walk forward. He doesn't move; some part of him probably thinks I won't shoot him, and even if I did, nothing would happen. He survived grenades and machine guns. I pry his jaws open and stick my arm in as far as I can and release the pill. My arm comes back covered in red slobber. I wipe the drool on my dirty pants. Then he completely ignores me and staggers towards a soldier. I'm stunned when he grabs a gun and puts it to his head. Suddenly I leap at him and knock the gun out of his grasp, and hug him. I know that I hate him, but I can't stand to see him die. It was easier to think of him dying in his monster form, but not as the person I've known for a long time. He starts sobbing in my arms and falls to his knees, burying his head in his hands. The spikes on his back were still shrinking into his body, tearing the skin as they go, and it looks painful.

"What do I do?" he sobs. I put my arm around his shoulders once the spikes are gone. They left angry red spots on his skin. "I've killed so many people... I can taste their blood in my mouth."

I don't know what to say. So I ask the question that's been nagging me for days.

"How did you end up like this?" I whisper.

"I don't know!" he cries.

"Who has been giving you the shots?"

He looks up, tear trails parting the dirt and blood caked onto his face. "I don't know that either."

"Has... has anything like this ever happened before?" I ask hesitantly. I don't want to push him in case he loses control again.

"When I was eight and my vaccine ran out, I had left the pills at my foster home. I woke up with a boy lying next to me with a bit mark on his leg. No one saw me do it, so no one suspected me, even with his blood in my mouth. I was interviewed, and I told the truth: I didn't know what happened. I don't know what happens when I change. It's just... blank."

"Well, it seems like you knew me in your, uh, other form--"

"Monster. Just call me a monster. It's true and to the point."

"Ok, well you acted different once I threw the ice cream at you. You acted different."

"You used ice cream as a weapon?" he says. I feel tears trail down my face. He sounds like himself again. Then he gets serious again. "What was I like? What did I do?"

I hesitate. Should I lie? He would just break down again. No, he deserves the truth.

"First, you changed in front of me behind my house. You ran away and then more and more military people were coming and the whole state was quarantined. People got violent on the streets and I hid in the closet for a few days. Then you came back all bloody and I treated you. We left when grenades were thrown in the windows. I left and you changed again."

"Really? All that?" He asks.

"No, there's more." He pauses but I continue slowly. "After that, I ran away into a flower shop for a while. Then I went back home and Missy was gone, but Shelly was still there. I had no food or water because the power and plumbing and appliances weren't working. I even had to drink bath water. Ew. So then me and Shelly jumped off the balcony when someone barged into the apartment. Me and Shelly left with a jacket, a knife and a canteen full of bath water. We walked a while and stopped at that diner across the parking lot. We drank some water and ate some left over food that was there. We only ate what wasn't moldy, and almost everything was. Then I hear a bunch of shouting and see people with guns around you, and you looked normal. You don't remember that part?"

He shakes his head.

"So I saw them shoot you in the leg and all your pills fell into the mud. You... um... tore those people over there apart and then came over to me and Shelly. I threw a bucket of ice cream at you and told you to go away, but you just sat down and stared at me. I let Shelly go because he was so scared. I hope he's okay... So I ate some ice cream and then came out of the shop and dug the pills out of the mud and you let me shove my arm down your throat. Then you came back."

His lip trembled. "I'm sorry about Shelly."

I let him process what he heard for a few minutes, and traced the fading marks on his spine. My dad's shirt is in tatters and there's holes in the spots on his spine.

"Does it hurt? When you change?" I whisper.

"Like I'm being ripped apart. The spikes cut through my skin and my body swells up and the teeth rip out of my gums. Like when wolverine's claws come out his knuckles."

I laugh. "You compared yourself gruesomely turning into a monster with an X-Men character?"

He takes my hands in his and traces the little cuts from the fall into the bush under our patio. He kisses my knuckles, but doesn't smile.

"What do I do now? How many pills are left?"

"Three. There are three pills left. Can't we go to your doctor or something? We can get the vaccine and... and..." I don't know how to finish the sentence. There are probably cameras that have gotten his face. He will be found out and killed.

"Then what? After four years, then what? Go through the same thing every four years of the rest of my life? I think you know the solution..."

"I won't let you kill yourself," I reply fiercely.

"That's not what I meant. I don't want to kill myself. I want you to kill me."

Chapter 5

He stares at me while I process that. Why would I be the one to kill him?! That's cruel. Horrible! I can't kill him. I won't.

"Please, Kelsey. Please." I shake my head.

"I won't kill you. You won't die anyway, right?!" I'm starting to get hysterical.

"Maybe, maybe not. But I bet a bullet to my head at point blank range would do the trick. I want to die. I can't live with knowing what I've done. Please? I'm begging you."

"Okay..." I cave.

He kisses my cheek and hands the gun I pointed at him before to me. I shoot him in the head, and wait for him to regenerate or something. Please, I beg. Please, please, please.

I wait for ten minutes. He's gone, though. I start to sob and scream. I can't live with what I've seen, either. So shoot myself in the head, too.

-Khylie Egger

5/21/16