There are people watching a TV show about accepting difference, about learning to truly be yourself and about opening yourself to joy, but at the same time they are saying that a frightened, closeted gay teenager does not deserve forgiveness, redemption or happiness. Some say that he is a monster. Some even say that he should die. This story was "inspired" by those people.
Written in February, before all the character development of the spring episodes. Not that the haters really care about silly little things like character development, since everybody knows that all the really good characters are static and never change, and a monster is a monster is a monster…
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Monsters don't deserve to live
Monsters don't deserve to live. Monsters are evil, and evil must be destroyed. In every fairy tale, the hero kills the monster and only then can people live happily ever after. In order for there to be happiness, the monster has to die. There cannot be a world where the monster lives, not even when the monsters keeps away from the people, hiding in its lair, never coming out. The monster is still there, the people will say. It's still there and it's still evil and we can't be good people unless we destroy it. After all, isn't that what our gods, lords, holy men and prophecies tell us? Isn't that what common sense tells us? Damn right it is! So people go into the cave, and kill the monster to be good, to be happy. To do the right thing.
You cannot try to understand the monster. You cannot try to reach out to the monster. You cannot feel sorry for the monster. If you do, what does that make you? A monster as well. And who would even want to understand a monster, to be kind to a monster? Only fools. Only people who will become monsters themselves. So there is no one in the world for a monster. A monster is always alone.
Dave is standing in the backyard. It's almost midnight. His dad is asleep, as are the neighbours. The only light is coming from the flickering porch light and from the kitchen, where he has left a note on the table.
He wanted to write that he was sorry. For everything he's done, for everything people have blamed him for, for all the bad deeds, for not being himself, for becoming a monster. He wanted to write Kurt a separate note, not only to say he's sorry but to beg for forgiveness. But who cares if a monster apologizes? Who would believe his words? So in the end, all he managed to write down was "you'll all be happier without me". Even though he's a monster, he can at least tell the truth.
The noose is tied to a branch where his swing used to hang from when he was little. It's a good, thick branch. The tree has grown as he has grown, and the branch won't break under his weight. The snow crunches under his feet as he moves closer, reaching up on his tiptoes and pulling the rope once more. It will hold. He almost sighs with relief. Tying it up was the most difficult thing, in the dark of the night, with his hands shaking from the cold and from the fear, but suddenly he's calm. This is right. This is how it has to be. If other people are to have a happy ending, the monster cannot be allowed to live.
He's brought one of their deck chairs from the storage, and set it on the ground under the noose. It's a little rickety, but then again, Dave almost grins at the thought that seems suddenly very funny, it doesn't need to hold him for long. He climbs onto the chair, slowly, making sure he doesn't lose his balance too soon, and takes hold of the rope. He bought it three weeks ago, but has only the courage to use it now, even though he tied the noose the day after he bought it. But he can no longer deny the truth of what must happen to people like him.
The rope feels good in his hands, it feels right. This is how all stories end. Or start. They end for the monster, but start for all those innocent, perfect people, who can live happily when the monster is gone. He adjusts the rope a little, making sure it isn't too long. When you kill a monster, you need to make sure it dies. Other wise it will just keep coming back.
There's a creak and he turns towards the porch. The door is open and there's a figure standing in the doorway, staring at him. Dave freezes as his dad makes a sound that is somewhere between an angry cry and a wail, and rushes towards him. In his pyjamas, his bare feet stomping on the icy ground.
Time seems to slow down as Dave watches his dad slip, watches him fall down. The crack is what snaps the time back into place, the crack of his dad's skull hitting the icy ground. Dave lets go of the noose and rushes towards his dad. He knows it's not impossible for the crack to echo around the yard, but it's echoing inside his head, this sound that was somehow so fake, like a bad sound effect in a movie. Can it really be happening if it doesn't sound real?
His dad is on the ground, not moving. His eyes are staring somewhere past Dave, who refuses to let the thought "they're not staring anywhere since he's dead" get fully through to him. He tries to remember all those first aid lectures they got in the football team, all the "dos" and "don'ts" for dealing with injured people, but his mind in blank.
The neighbours hear his wails and find him holding his dad. Mr. Cooper from across the street is a doctor, and while his wife gently pulls Dave away, he kneels next to Dave's dad. It only takes a moment and the he's turning to Dave, shaking his head and saying something that sound like "I'm sorry", but that can't be it. Why would they apologize to a monster? There must be a mistake, but Dave doesn't know what it is and if he could just get to the rope and finish what he started then everything would be fine and everyone would be happy.
But they don't let him go, they drag him to the kitchen, and he's sitting there when the police and the ambulance come and there are questions about what happened and about the rope and the chair and Dave can't speak. Not that there would be much point in speaking. Who would want to listen to him?
They take him somewhere, give him new clothes and then something that they say will help him sleep. The next day his mom comes, straight from the airport, but Dave doesn't want to talk to her either. She was happier when she was away from him, so why did she come back now? And why isn't his dad there?
He hasn't eaten anything. He hears the doctor pull his mom aside and tell her she will need to sign consent forms for his treatment, especially if he continues to refuse to eat, and Dave doesn't understand them. He's trying to do them a favour, to destroy the monster before it hurts any more people. Why are they making it so difficult?
But despite what the doctor, his mom and others in that place are going to do, the world is full of possibilities. Sharp edges, steep stairs, windows on the top floor, bed sheets tied to a rope. Because monsters need to die. There is no other possible ending.
After all, monsters don't deserve to live.