Kelly Hashway: The Monster Within

“Want to watch some TV?” Ethan walked over and fiddled with the ancient TV in the living room. I watched as he pressed every button on the set and the remote, but all he got was static and more static. He gave the screen a good whack with the palm of his hand before giving up completely. “Or we could talk.”

The couch cushions were airing out in the yard so it wasn’t like we could sit comfortably, even if the TV was working. We were slumming it.

“Actually, I’m kind of beat. I think I’d like to go to sleep.” I motioned toward the bedroom, and my cheeks got hot.

“Okay.” He studied my face for a moment. “Do you want me to take the floor tonight?”

“No. Don’t be silly.” I took his hand and led him into the bedroom. I was trying to act normal, but it was more difficult than I thought it would be. I was nervous. Here we were, alone in our place. I felt like a kid playing house. Only I wasn’t a kid, and neither was Ethan.

He’d brought clean sheets, so at least there was a thin layer of protection between us and the mattress that might very well have been older than the both of us combined. I folded back the top sheet, patting down the wrinkles. I felt like a damn hotel maid doing turndown service, not like a seventeen-year-old girl going to bed with her long-term boyfriend. It was pathetic. I was pathetic.

“Hospital corners, impressive,” Ethan mocked me.

“I’m sorry. Why is this so hard? Why don’t I feel like me?”

“Come here.” He sat down on his side of the bed and reached for me. I took his hand and sat next to him. “How don’t you feel like yourself?”

How did I answer that? I was dead—or undead. I’d killed a man. I was hiding out in a tiny broken-down shack in the middle of the Poconos, and I was keeping things from the one person I trusted most in the world. I didn’t feel like me, because this wasn’t me.

But I couldn’t say that.

“I guess it’s just hard to know how to act. The last time I was alive, I had cancer. There’s a big part of me that doesn’t remember not being sick.”

“You know what I think?”

I shook my head.

“You need to stop thinking.” He cupped the side of my face in his hand and brought his face closer to mine. “Want me to help?” He stared into my eyes, making sure I was okay with this. Thankfully, I was. Being with Ethan was normal, and I wanted normal. I leaned forward, brushing my lips against his. He welcomed the kiss and pulled me closer to him.

Ethan was right. I needed to stop thinking. So, that’s what I did. I let myself get lost in him. In us. I kissed him the way I had before the cancer got so bad I could barely function. I kissed him like a normal teenage girl kisses her boyfriend. He returned each kiss with more hunger and passion than I’d ever felt. My head spun, and I loved every second of it.

We didn’t do anything we hadn’t done before. He didn’t want to push me, and I loved him for that. By the time my eyes closed, I was out of breath and completely content. No bad thoughts. The world only consisted of Ethan and me.

I slept soundly until around three-thirty. I heard a wheezing and opened my eyes, expecting to see Ethan snoring next to me. He was quiet. The noise wasn’t coming from him. It was coming from me. My hands shook with cold, and my lungs struggled for air.

Oh, God! It was happening again. Just like at the gas station. The image of the man with the cowboy hat rushed into my mind. I remembered how warm he’d felt. How I’d wanted to take that warmth from him. And I had. I’d stolen his life.

Ethan rolled onto his side, and without realizing I was doing it, my hand crept toward him. My fingers brushed against his shirt. Heat radiated from his body. My breathing started to calm down, like when I’d touched the man’s leg. No! I pulled my hand away and scrambled out of the bed. I wouldn’t do that to Ethan. I couldn’t hurt him. Not him.

I ran from the room and struggled with the deadbolt Ethan had installed on the front door before hurling myself into the night. My body was giving up on me, betraying me with every step, but I forced myself to move forward. To get away from the cottage. To get away from Ethan.

I tripped over the paint can Ethan had left on the front steps and fell forward onto the grass. My chin hit the ground, and I winced in pain. Why did the universe want me dead? I got to my feet and headed for the car. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I wouldn’t get there on foot. I was too weak. I reached for the hidden key in the hideaway box in the front wheel well. If I hadn’t already been having trouble breathing, I would’ve held my breath as I got in the car and started the engine. I prayed Ethan wouldn’t wake up at the sound. Please, let me get far enough away that I won’t hurt him .

I threw the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway. I could barely control the car. My limbs were weak, and steering was nearly impossible. I pulled onto the road, and tires screeched to a halt. I focused my energy on hitting the brakes before I totaled Ethan’s car. The headlights of the other car stopped right alongside me. I didn’t crash. I was okay.

The driver threw his door open, yelling curse after curse at me. He stormed up to me and flung my door open.

“What the hell are you doing? You could’ve killed me, you stupid bitch!” He reached inside the car and grabbed my arm. His touch was so warm. I felt his blood in his veins. Instinctively, I reached for his chest.

“Hey!” He smacked my hand away, but I persisted. “Listen, honey, I’m not gonna lie. You are pretty easy on the eyes.” I ignored him and slipped my hand under his shirt. “Well, okay.” He pulled his shirt over his head. “Maybe this almost accident wasn’t so bad after all.” He leaned toward me, and I reached for his neck. I felt the life coursing through his body and into mine. He bent his head toward me, thinking I wanted to kiss him, but before he met my lips, he choked.

“What?” He coughed, but I held on to him. I knew what was happening, yet I couldn’t stop. I watched in horror as the skin around his eyes wrinkled with age. His hair turned gray and started falling out of his head in clumps. Still I clung to him, drinking in every last bit of life as it left his body. His knees buckled, and he slumped onto the road right outside my door.

No longer connected to him, I was flooded with emotion. I’d killed again. My hands shook, but this time, it was out of fear. Fear of myself. I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t become this hideous creature that killed to survive. Yet that was exactly what I was.

I could hear a car’s engine coming toward us. I had to do something. Fast. Fueled by adrenaline, I dragged the man to the passenger door of his car and got him inside. Then I got back into Ethan’s car and pulled it back up the driveway, just enough that it wouldn’t be in the road anymore. I raced back to the guy’s car and got in the driver’s seat. I put the car in drive and peeled out. I cringed, hoping I hadn’t left tire marks on the road. Too late to worry about it now. I drove about a half-mile to a big decline. One thing about the Poconos, there were plenty of hills. I put the car in park and dragged the guy across the seat so it looked like he was driving. I slumped him forward onto the steering wheel and buckled his seat belt around him. I closed his door and ran around to the passenger side. I put the car in drive, lunged back out, and slammed the door as the car started down the hill.

I hoped the car wouldn’t hit anything too bad. The guy was already dead. I didn’t want the car to explode and the police not to be able to identify his body. Although even his family might not recognize him now, all balding and wrinkled. Tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t handle this, any of it. I sprinted for Ethan’s car, not caring that my bare feet were being torn up by the gravel on the road. I stuck close to the edge of the trees, in case any more cars came down the road, but the night was quiet. I was sweaty by the time I reached Ethan’s car and drove it back up to the cottage. I returned the key to the hideaway box in the wheel well and slipped into the house.