Amma, will you please check under the bed? I think there’s a monster underneath. Amma would always check, and assure me everything was safe. But I knew better, I knew there was a monster lurking somewhere.
You see, my mother would have liked me to think this monster was a mere figment of my imagination, a product of the countless stories I read. She’d like me to believe that all was well and safe, but, I was now old enough to understand what was real, and what wasn’t. And, I knew there was a monster in the house, maybe she just wasn’t looking right.
I never understand how she didn’t know. Didn’t she hear this monster yell at me until my ears became deaf? Didn’t she see this monster strike me with anything it could find until I could no longer feel myself? Didn’t she watch the monster kick my stomach until vomit covered the newly mopped floors? Didn’t she ice my skin the next day from the grape colored bruises? How did she not know there was a monster in the house?
Sometimes, I would sit deep in thought, and just maybe, maybe believe that I was imagining it all. But, surely, the bruises would always come back, reassuring me of the truth. But I did slowly become confused, the bruises would come back alright, but in more discreet areas, you know, the ankles, the back on your knees, your stomach, your head, places that would cover up easily. Places that if found, could easily be attributed to a kid’s clumsiness. And, in time, I knew, the monster was here to stay.
I kept trying to convince my mom to take me away, and that I wasn’t imagining it, but she would just smile, and tell me to go play.
I never really understood why the monster attacked me. Some days it would be because I didn’t do well on a test, or because I raised my voice to my mom, or because I didn’t eat everything off my plate. Other days, it would be because I caught a cold too often, because I took up my mother’s time too much, or because, the worst reason of all, was because I shouldn’t have been born at all.
But, I always did wonder how the monster knew of my mishaps at school, my clumsiness, or my conversations with my mom.
And then, I was learnt a hard lesson. That the monster didn’t act alone…
There was not one, but two monsters in the house.
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