My mommy always said there were no monsters. She didn’t realize she’d married one. She definitely didn’t know she’d carried one, all unknowing, beneath her heart for nine months.
My mommy didn’t know a lot of things.
I grew up in a glass house with a family that had a lot of money and parents that indulged my every whim. Ballet, karate, dresses, and boys. There was never a time in my life when I couldn’t have whatever I wanted with just a crook of my finger and a flutter of my lashes — I’ve always been daddy’s girl.
And I guess that’s where it all started. When all the secrets and the lies came together in my head, and my subconscious brain must have assembled things before I even suspected what I always must have known.
Being away from home put things in perspective. Made the darkness come rushing out of me, that strange delight that only got better when I fed my unspoken desire. When I accepted what I was born to be: a monster.