The Monster Inside



Well I guess I’m supposed to write this down. They say I had a “breakdown” or something. I don’t buy it. I think I’m fine but if I were why would I be here? Any way I guess I’m pretty normal, at least on the outside. I had a pretty good group of friends but they really didn’t know what all I was thinking. I opened up a little but never told them everything. And if this shrink thinks after laying on his couch for an hour he gets to hear it all, he’s got something else coming.
So I guess it all unfolded my senior year. I had a girlfriend who I was crazy about, but she didn’t like my friends just cause they were girls. See, I’ve always felt more comfortable around girls. It’s a nice group to have when something’s bothering you. Sure I had my guy friends and they were great for conversations about other girls and for hanging out during the weekend.

I had this one friend, Brandon, who I was always with. We were nearly inseparable. Sure he was stupid sometimes, but aren’t we all?
Then my best friend and the person I opened up to the most, Kaitlyn. I just called her New York though, cause she always wanted to be on Broadway. I mean sure we seemed close but not in a romantic way. Almost like platonic soul mates. I helped her fend off douchebags and she helped me fend off my fears.

I guess I put on a façade for most of my life. I had troubles at home but when I walked out in public you would think I just finished a nice family game night with cookies and milk. Only in my deepest points did I show weakness. “Never express problems, bottle it up like a real man,” my stepdad would say, “When you talk about those things you show weakness.”
Of course he was a lot different than me. We hated each other. When I needed a male figure the most he would back away. “Go cry somewhere else, pussy.”
From that point on I locked myself out. I stopped caring. My grades slipped, I was getting in fights, and I made it look like I didn’t care, cause that’s what a real man does. Keeps his feelings out of the way and moves on. I kept this hard exterior for a long time, until I couldn’t take it anymore.

Everything I had been hiding surfaced in an explosion at my mother. I said things during that argument I’ll never forget, but what I remember most is what happened afterword. My stepdad burst into the room yelling at me and telling me not to say another word. I was too fired up to stop now; he needed to know how I really felt about him.
I had hidden from this moment for years but since it was finally here I let it all go. In one swift move I kicked the side of his knee and as he winced at the pain I finally did it. I stood up for myself and let everything he had ever said to me, all the pain he caused, all the love I had been cheated out of while he showered what he called his “real” kids in everything they wanted focus into my fist. And as my fist connected with his cheekbone I heard a crackle from inside of his face. I didn’t need to keep hitting him. Everything that needed to be said was all expressed in that punch.
As he lay on the ground bleeding, I heard him sniffle. He turned his head toward me and I saw tears streaming down his face. “Go cry somewhere else, pussy”
I left to go somewhere, anywhere. I couldn’t go to my girlfriend cause she would never approve of me hitting someone. I couldn’t go to Brandon because he wasn’t there for the deep stuff. I went to Kaitlyn and as I knocked on the door I heard her ask, “Who is it?”
“Hey New York.” I said between sobs.
Once I had told her what happened she showed mixed emotions. I could usually read her pretty well, but this time I couldn’t.
“Well, good for you.” She finally said. Not what I was expecting but it turns out she was waiting for this moment, too. She knew someday I would blow up and, while she didn’t like the idea of it, Kaitlyn had come to terms with it.
Her parents came downstairs and right then I knew nothing good was going to happen from this point on. When they found out what happened, they freaked. I tried calming them down and explaining myself but it was too late. I heard sirens and a rather young looking cop came in the door. I tried to plead my case but he didn’t want to hear it.
I was charged with domestic violence and sentenced to 50 years in the state prison. They decided the case was serious enough for me to be placed with a Psychiatrist appointed by the court. I’ve heard them call me things like, “lost cause” and “screw up.” All the same things I had been hearing for years from my parents.
So here I am. The pride and joy of every basket case within fifty miles. The punishment may seem a little harsh for the crime but there was more to my story. Maybe they were hoping for a confession in this life story. But like I said, this shrink doesn’t get to know everything. So I’ll keep dreaming of where I hid that pistol after the fight. But nobody else will know what else happened that night. What happened to others who caused me pain throughout the years. All they will remember is the smile of that “perfect boy” they all thought they knew.