Skip to main content

How Do You Kill A Monster?


“Ben? What are you doing in there?”

I glanced up at the door briefly where my wife stood on the other side.

“I’ll just be another minute.” There was no point in answering her question. She knew what I was doing, I’m sure. And she didn’t like it. And she didn’t understand. Because she wanted me to move on.

My eyes slid back down to my phone where they stayed glued to the screen for another four minutes. I had scoured the internet for months looking for the rest of the trial but all I could find was this six minute segment that had been televised by A Current Affair. I’d seen the video so many times I knew every detail of every second. But still I watched. Because I needed an answer.

The camera was currently focused on the jury. They were all leaning forward and concentrating on the testimony of the forensic expert. The camera then slid over to the witness stand where Dr. Felmore talked about the decomposition of Andrew’s body and the state it had been in when a dog-walker had discovered it the previous May.

Felmore then walked over to the overhead projector, tapped a stack of slides on the table to straighten them, and then peeled off the top one and placed it on the projector. A graphic photo of Andrew’s body arrived on the screen and the entire courtroom gasped. A Current Affair had blurred out the photos but I remembered what was on them. They were right to be horrified. Hearing an expert drone in a monotone manner about the graphic abuse of a five year old was much different than seeing its effects first hand.

The doctor explained the slides without emotion, pointing out the countless abrasions, bruises, and open fractures. He spoke about the ultimate manner of death – strangulation – and showed the court how the handprints on Andrew’s neck matched perfectly with the defendant’s. Then he turned the projector off and began to speak to about the presumed time of death.

The camera pulled back at this point to show my family, quietly crying.

And then, finally, it panned over to the defendant’s table. The boy sitting beside his lawyer looked downright…bored. He flipped a pencil back and forth between his fingers and sighed loudly, every few seconds. This – this was the monster I wanted to kill. He seemed to feel the camera was on him now because he suddenly turned, looked straight at the camera, and smiled. It was smug, intelligent smile. As if he wasn’t afraid of the consequences. As if he believed it had all been worth it.

And in the end, he was right. He had been sentenced to be incarcerated until his majority and then another seven years after that. It was nothing. It was less than nothing.

I looked over at the straight razor I had begged my wife to get me for my birthday. How do you kill a monster? This was the answer. It would be so easy. But could I bring myself to do it? My little brother deserved vengeance, even if it came 16 years later. Andrew had suffered horrors no human should endure. Days of it.

I looked back down at the tiny screen and watched the last few seconds of the video. The boy had suddenly sat up at rapt attention as some of the makeshift torture devices he’d created were brought out and placed upon a table near the jury. My family was escorted from the courtroom and A Current Affair cut the video off there. But it didn’t matter, I remembered what happened next.

The detective had held up each one of the devices for the jury to examine and I’d rocked back and forth in my seat, giddy with pride at my creations.

Valerie knocked again. “Ben, are you coming to bed?”

But I was contemplating a much more important question, the only one that mattered. In truth, I knew how to kill a monster. I glanced over at the sharp blade on the counter. That part was easy. But the problem was more complex than that. Because how do you kill a monster when it’s inside of you?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Wish Come True (A Short Story)

I woke up with a start when I found myself in a very unfamiliar place. The bed I was lying on was grand—an English-quilting blanket and 2 soft pillows with flowery laces. The whole place was fit for a king! Suddenly the door opened and there stood my dream prince: Katsuya Kimura! I gasped in astonishment for he was actually a cartoon character. I did not know that he really exist. “Wake up, dear,” he said and pulled off the blanket and handed it to a woman who looked like the maid. “You will be late for work.” “Work?” I asked. “Yes! Work! Have you forgotten your own comic workhouse, baby dear?” Comic workhouse?! I…I have became a cartoonist? That was my wildest dreams! Being a cartoonist! I undressed and changed into my beige T-shirt and black trousers at once and hurriedly finished my breakfast. Katsuya drove me to the workhouse. My, my, was it big! I’ve never seen a bigger place than this! Katsuya kissed me and said, “See you at four, OK, baby?” I blushed scarlet. I always wan

Hans and Hilda

Once upon a time there was an old miller who had two children who were twins. The boy-twin was named Hans, and he was very greedy. The girl-twin was named Hilda, and she was very lazy. Hans and Hilda had no mother, because she died whilst giving birth to their third sibling, named Engel, who had been sent away to live wtih the gypsies. Hans and Hilda were never allowed out of the mill, even when the miller went away to the market. One day, Hans was especially greedy and Hilda was especially lazy, and the old miller wept with anger as he locked them in the cellar, to teach them to be good. "Let us try to escape and live with the gypsies," said Hans, and Hilda agreed. While they were looking for a way out, a Big Brown Rat came out from behind the log pile. "I will help you escape and show you the way to the gypsies' campl," said the Big Brown Rat, "if you bring me all your father's grain." So Hans and Hilda waited until their father let them out,

I Was A Lab Assistant of Sorts (Part 3)

Hey everyone. I know it's been a minute, but I figured I would bring you up to speed on everything that happened. So, needless to say, I got out, but the story of how it happened was wild. So there we were, me and the little potato dude, just waiting for the security dude to call us back when the little guy got chatty again. “Do you think he can get us out?” he asked, not seeming sure. “I mean, if anyone can get us out it would be him, right?” “What do you base this on?” I had to think about that for a minute before answering, “Well, he's security. It's their job to protect people, right? If anyone should be able to get us out, it should be them.” It was the little dude's turn to think, something he did by slowly breathing in and out as his body puffed up and then shrank again. “I will have to trust in your experience on this matter. The only thing I know about security is that they give people tickets