I've dreamt of a monster, but I can't dream. Not anymore.
But I've still dreamt of a monster, preying on a young girl's heart. First, the monster charmed the girl, but that was after he held hate inside himself. Hate for her. And lust. Blood lust. For her blood. After the monster had the girl charmed, he saved her. And once the girl was safe, he held her. He was only trying to protect her. That's all he ever wanted. But he realized he was the one providing the peril. He was causing trouble.
And the monster left, in love, but wanting to protect the girl. From him. He left, and he promised not to come back. The monster thought the girl had died. He could not live in a world where she did not exist. So, he planned to kill himself. It was only fair. But the girl found him. And so the promise was broken.
The monster knew he could never leave again. So he did the only thing he knew. He held her, and he loved.
And the girl began to want to be him. To be a monster. But she also wanted to be with him. In a way not possible. It would hurt her, but she wanted it. The monster had already hurt her so much. He couldn't do that again.
But the monster was a monster. So he gave her what she wanted.
And after the monster had hurt her, their baby hurt her, from the inside out. But the girl was strong. She said she loved the baby, and even worse, she loved the monster. She always had.
But now the problem was, she was going to give her life to a monster and his baby. But then the monster's daughter was born. And in order for her to live, the monster had to kill the girl. What she'd always wanted.
He took away her soul and stopped her beating heart.
My dream stops when her heart does. Because I know I'm not a monster. Because she could never be one.
I've dreamt of a monster. But I can't dream. Not of myself. Not even of her.