What makes a monster but himself.
I remember the first day I met Henry.
It wasn't anything special to be honest. It was quite simple. An accidental help from a stranger I would like to call it. That was it really. An accidental help.
I wasn't all too familiar with the neighborhood having just moved but I knew my way to the library. It wasn't anything about being a book enthusiast but it was just the only place I knew. I had noticed it on my way to my new place and the route seemed sort of straight forward.
Meeting Henry wasn't my first visit to the library or my second. It was actually the fifth. Each visit all the same. That's why the fifth felt different. Something memorable I like to call it. Well liked actually.
Stupid me categorized it as fated. It was funny because before that day I did not believe in fate and the aligning of the stars in ones favor. But Henry did, so I did, just because he did.
Later I realized I did because Henry did.
The day started ordinary like all my visits to the library. Except my getting lost. Which is when my hero came in and saved the day. I had walked into the wrong street in search of a shortcut when my navigation abilities failed. Nothing much really happened there though. It just involved me getting further lost in search of a way out. A way home.
I had slightly given up for that hour. My back pressed in tired dipped resignation, slumped on a random wall as I let my eyes close for the while. It was my posture of defeat. My only thought on how I would get back to my apartment. Swirling in the future abyss of my pessimistic worry.
A tap to my shoulder was my jolt. Opening my eyes I looked ahead to a mop of dark messy hair. That's when I met him. He wasn't anything special but he was different. His vibe was different. It was a dangerous unique. His eyes were as typical as brown eyes can be. His ears however were slightly larger which gave him a sort of comical look on it's own.
I remember thinking, what a weirdo. A cute weirdo. Horrendous weirdo.
We talked.
He asked questions, I answered.
I was lost, he directed.
He helped me, I appreciated.
And then he began to be around more. In the library. On my way home. The supermarket. Almost everywhere.
But I didn't worry about it. I didn't think at all. At first it was fun then I was tired.
It felt like that person you just had to label a friend, not because you enjoyed their company but they are there around and you feel pitiful towards them.
I never initiated any of our hangouts. I really didn't want to be around him but the pacifist in my surrendered to this.
We hung out alot more than I wanted. I got tired. He noticed and would darken each time I mentioned something outside him. Being on my own and not hanging out with him was the worst thing I could ever think or do. So I stayed in my caged. Trapped to fill the satisfaction of another.
We fought.
He did and I didn't want to anymore.
I spoke. He screamed back.
I was frustrated. He was angry.
I had complained about wanting him to leave me alone. Let me breath.
That was when it happened. I didn't feel it at first. For a sudden while all I could hear was the silence. Loud and clear. But his mouth keep moving. Rapid and aggressive. From his gestures to the way he looked at me.
He did it again. This time I felt it. I saw it. I tasted the bitter pain in my mouth.
And then I saw him and I screamed.
