At Least I Tried

Usually, the monsters are described as big, unnatural creatures with three heads, the ability to blow fire, fly or do something a human can't do.

Yet, trust me, the biggest monster I know is lying in his bed right now, far away from any description of a monster you could find in a book.

My monster looks more like my best friend than an animal - he has the same shiny brown hair my friend had since he was a child, the same green eyes, the same freckle beside his right dimple.

And even though people can forget many things that they saw while they were drunk, I still remember my monster. He had the same hands as my best friend, only this time they were slamming me against the wall, not hugging me. He had the same lips, only this time they were curled up into a smile as they were calling me many different names, yet none of them were mine. They had the same intentions. Only I was stupid enough to think that they didn't include taking everything from me.

I know the goal of this story was to make my monster sympathetic, but it's like trying to make a diamond out of the blood I was covered in that night. I don't think it can work.