What is a monster? Is it created or born? Are you one, or am I? Is it a product of genes or of something external? Am I a monster because of the things I have done? Does a monster have a distinct form or at least, are there signs that can reveal it?
Please, as you read this, I really want to know: do you want to help me find answers to these questions? Well, if your answer is yes, maybe you should take a closer look at my youngest daughter. I think this is the best starting point to make you understand and help you draw your own conclusions.
My name is Janet by the way. Living in our big five-bedroom home on the hills, my loved ones and I still formed a happy family, with my husband Robert and I being the proud parents of two beautiful daughters: Layla and Ruby, respectively 11 and 8 years old in 2020 before their birthdays.
Ruby is a quiet little girl with not even one friend, whether real or imaginary, yet she claims to have many. She has never accepted any help for her homework and is always first of her class. Ruby despises Christmas, not believing in anything associated with it, however, she loves costumes and Halloween, a celebration when she can freely practice her favorite hobby: frightening people.
One ordinary night, after a very busy working day, I crashed on my bed and felt the weight of all the previous activities sink my body in the mattress. In the next room, helped by the focus his office often plunged him into, hubby tried to catch up on some work. Drifting off to sleep after a few minutes, I heard and felt a heavy breathing on my face that made me open my eyes to a nightmare, and I gasped before the horror that was staring at me.
Just a few centimeters away from my eyes, a person with a very pale face and black cracks around the mouth, looked at me with angry eyes full of hatred. My gasps evolved into screams as I backed away from the intruder until I fell off the bed. Robert then stormed into the room; his rescue entrance stained by the crazy laugh of a little girl.
He switched the light on. I had stopped screaming at that point, and Layla appeared, hiding behind her father and we all recognized Ruby despite her frightening makeup. Unfazed by our scolding and threats, she laughed at us all, delighted by the success of her late-night prank.
Layla used to keep her little sister close to her at all times, to the point of deciding that they share the same bedroom. However, that was until Ruby developed the creepy habit of staring at Layla while the latter was asleep; she could keep on staring for a whole night if uninterrupted.
Each time, Layla would then wake up spontaneously or after a nightmare, and find her sister there staring with hatred in her eyes or with a smile and in complete silence. The night Layla woke up and saw her sister staring with a kitchen knife in her hand, Robert decided that they stop sharing the same bedroom.
For me, Ruby’s most disturbing trait will always be her strange knowledge. She enjoys talking about mysterious and sometimes terrifying things and places only herself knows or understands; things that any other child would not know of. She also likes talking alone, just to play pretend I guess, but she always denies it even when caught in the act.
Since this world will never tolerate differences, Ruby ended up being the target of ill-mannered children, especially at school. Some mean little girls there would call her names, mock her and sometimes physically assault her, until Ruby decided to retaliate.
That day, she lured them in the school’s bathroom and up to now, only themselves know what happened inside there. Afterwards, those girls grew so afraid of Ruby that they labeled her a witch, and some of them even changed school. Unfortunately for Ruby, that resulted to more ostracization for her and she became even more isolated.
***
Drawing is not only what I do for a living, it is my passion. A passion I transmitted to my daughter Ruby. I still remember the day she made me proud when she drew a flower all by herself at the age of three. Of course, her drawing skills evolved as she grew up and it quickly became a mean of escape from her difficult reality.
Ruby’s loneliness always triggered my mom mode and I would often remind her that, whenever she wants to, she could create her own fantastic world in her drawing books; great adventures where nobody would harm her in any way or hate her. It worked for a few months, and in her drawing books, she was a princess surrounded by flowers, teddy bears and butterflies until darkness took over.
Her inspiration suddenly turned towards the dark and the morbid. She began drawing horrible places populated by terrifying characters that can give nightmares to even adults, raising eyebrows and concerns about her mental state both at home and school. In all those dark representations, there was always a witch governing the creatures.
On the 23rd of March 2020, we both enjoyed a quiet afternoon seated comfortably on a couch and in front of an animated movie. To be honest, the novel between my hands had captured my attention so much that I did not hear what the character on the TV screen said to make Ruby scream in excitement:
“Wow! Wow, wow mommy wow! Mommy is that true?” She asked with sparks in her eyes, after jumping from the couch.
“What’s—true?” I asked back, sitting straight, baffled by such joy I did not see her display in a very long time.
“What Willy said mom.” She responded, pointing at the TV screen.
“And what did he say?” I questioned again, feeling embarrassed as my lack of interest in the movie and my resulting absence from that mother-daughter moment became obvious.
“Willy said that if you really believe, anything can become real, it can come to life?” Ruby said.
Children do have a way of just catching adults off guard. What should I tell this kid that does not even believe in or celebrate Christmas? I thought, frozen in front of an equally immobile Ruby who looked forward to my answer, her eyes still glistening with a hope I did not want to crush. I activated my mom mode again and replied:
“Of course, my darling! Whatever you wish for can come to life if you really want to, if you really believe.”
Today, as I am writing this, I reflect on the above statement and I shiver at the thoughts of the atrocious consequences that resulted from it. All I wanted was for my daughter to get her fair share of hope, joy, laughter, love, but instead, I had set something terrible in motion that manifested almost immediately as Ruby’s smile suddenly vanished.
“Sweetie? Ruby? What’s wrong?” I asked, as Ruby’s eyes widened, still riveted on me. “Ruby?” I called, but instead of answering me, she started whispering something I could not hear. I stood up and she did not follow me with her eyes, still whispering mysterious things. I approached to shake her, at each step hearing more clearly the strange and unknown words she was whispering, and before my hand reached her…
“Mommy?” She called, seemingly back to her senses and all smiles.
“Ruby?” I responded perplexed, unsure of what just happened and what to think.
“Can I get a new drawing book and pencils for my birthday?” She requested.
“Again? There still a few of those in daddy’s of—”
“Mom? I want new ones for my birthday.” She insisted, trying to hide her firmness and commanding tone behind a smile that grew more deceptive by the second. “You just said that if I really want to, all my dreams can become real. Right?” She added.
“Okay. Okay sweetie, but you alright? You just—” I tried asking, passing my hand through her blonde hair.
“I’m fine mom. Please mom don’t forget, this will be my best birthday ever.” Ruby said, excitement filling her whole being again.
“Really? Because of a new drawing book?” I asked, curious about her plans.
“Not only mom, I’ll also invite all my friends and I’ll show it to them.” She said, making big gestures.
“Wow! That’s—wonderful sweetie!” I spoke, faking a smile to hide the pain caused by Ruby’s words, since I knew that no friend would come to celebrate with her, not even because of lockdown, but just because she has none.
***
The 30th of March 2020, one day before Ruby’s ninth birthday, I stood before the kitchen fridge door, my eyes set on the little calendar glued on it. Last day of preparation, I thought, the upcoming birthday governing my mind at all times, because I never saw Ruby that joyful and excited and I wished and wanted for her to remain that happy.
We wanted Ruby to be surrounded with the maximum number of loved ones we could manage to invite, despite the lockdown and her lack of friends. Many unsuccessful attempts almost discouraged us, but Layla convinced her favorite uncle whom is my cousin Tim and his fiancée Maggie to come and spend a few days with us. The young couple had gladly accepted, arriving a few days before the 31st, and we found our home illuminated by two happy little girls.
My eyes still set on the calendar, I looked at the 31 circled under the March month, while hearing the giggles of Maggie and the girls playing in the living room. I savored the moment, just wishing it not to end, after all, this is what I had always wished for but had so hardly obtained.
“Hey honey!” Robert said, passing behind me with sounds of plastic bags.
“Hey babe!” I responded, finally getting my eyes off the calendar and I saw him drop several shopping bags on the table then rush to the window to take a look. “What’s going on?” I asked.
“No, I think—nothing. May have just been my imagination.” He answered, walking away from the window.
“Your imagination? Did you see anything?” I questioned.
“No, just don’t mind me. It’s fine.” Robert answered, as he started to take items out of the bags.
“DRAWING BOOK AND PENCILS!” Ruby shouted from the living room, reminding me of her request just like before at any given opportunity.
“OK YOUR MAJESTY!” I shouted back. “Did you get them?” I asked my husband.
“Yep!” He answered confidently.
“The brands I told you about?” I insisted.
He took the two items out of the bags and showed them to me as a proof. “Yes, your majesty!” He replied before we both laughed. That was one of the best afternoons of my life, the last one actually.
At midnight, Robert and I tiptoed to Ruby’s room with her birthday gifts in hand as we always did. We hoped that she could be truly asleep, and not try to ruin our surprise with a scary prank like she sometimes did in the past. I slowly opened her door and saw her sleeping peacefully, and the sight drew a smile out of me. In no time, all the gifts we bought and packaged ourselves for our little princess found their way under her bed as usual.
“Happy birthday Ruby.” I whispered, after kissing her on the forehead.
Gladdened by our efforts and all smiles, we watched her sleep for a few seconds before we left her room. Robert went straight to bed while my thirst led me to the kitchen instead. One glass of milk has always been my therapy for relaxation. However, little did I know that I needed strength instead to face my worst fears, during that dreadful night that I now know to be the longest of my life.
Best day of her life today, I thought, imagining how Ruby would scream in joy when she discovers all her gifts. I took out the milk container from the fridge, and before I could spot and react to the danger lurking in my home, it was too late. Inches away from my face, a shiny gun barrel greeted me as soon as I closed the fridge door, and I responded with a gasp.
His face hidden behind a husky dog mask, the man holding the weapon spoke calmly:
“Keep quiet.”