“Let Ashley go,” you say, but your voice cracks.
“Why?” He speaks in his Normal Voice, calm and confident and it makes you want to listen. Like when you were little, before the Bad Days, when he would read you stories and buy you presents and candy and make you laugh with funny faces. “I’m doing what I said I would. It’s your fault, girl. It has always been your fault.”
You shake your head. That’s bullshit.
“Don’t believe me?” The king leans forward. “Where were you when your mom killed herself?”
“It was an accident—”
“No.”
That one syllable is like a sledgehammer in your stomach. There is so much hatred in his voice, you can’t catch your breath.
“No, she did it on purpose. You might have gotten away with anything you wanted because of that beast you had.” He kicks Monster again. “She started getting ideas she could do the same, and we couldn’t have that, could we? I’m in charge. She had to learn that. If you hadn’t hidden behind your monsters, your mother wouldn’t have thought she needed to escape. We could have been a family.”
You stumble back a step. The realization sinks cold in your stomach. You usurped his power and he couldn’t bear it.
“I didn’t…” But you can’t go on.
“Don’t listen to him, Red,” Ashley shouts. “It’s not true!”
“One more word and you join my wife,” the king says, his finger on the trigger.
You stand there, shaking, trying not to think how much sense his words make.
The music—it’s softer now, weaker. And it’s coming from Monster’s throat.
Ashley locks her jaw and stares unblinking at you. Don’t listen.
You swallow hard. The melody drifts through your fingers and toes. It’s the lullaby Monster sang to you when you were very small.
If you believe the false king, he’ll win. He’ll take everything away, like he’s tried to do all your life. You can’t endure losing Ashley. And you can’t see Monster go away again.
You put a foot on the dais floor. A bone crunches under your shoe. Perhaps you can find a way to heal Monster, because you want your monster back so badly it hurts. You want to tell Monster you’re sorry, so sorry.
But how do you find your own words when the king owns so many? You couldn’t tell Ashley you loved her. You couldn’t tell your mom. You lied to Terra. And what if Monster doesn’t want you back?
You look at Ashley again.
You can’t fight the king. He has a gun and a knife. But with Monster at your side, you have a chance. If Monster will forgive you.
“Monster?” you breathe.
One of Monster’s ears twitch. Very slowly, Monster looks up and meets your eyes. You hold out your hands.
“Please come back,” you whisper. “I need you.”
“And now,” says the king, “let’s turn off this fucking music.”
You lunge forward—
The king shoots your monster in the head.
Monster’s body goes limp and the music dies.
ONCE UPON A time, when you were very small, you fell off a skateboard and scraped both knees raw. Mommy was drinking, and Daddy wasn’t home, so you climbed on the sink in the bathroom and looked for Band-Aids all by yourself. But you couldn’t find any.
You tried not to cry when you crawled under the bed and told Monster.
Monster pulled two pieces of fur off one hand and made bright purple Band-Aids for you. You gave Monster a hug.
You sat together on a huge bean bag chair, which you couldn’t have in your room or Daddy would take it away.
“Do you ever get owies?” you asked.
Monster nodded. “We all do. But you know what makes them feel better?”
“Dancing?” you asked, because that was your favorite thing in the world and you were going to be a ballerina princess astronaut veterinarian when you grew up.
Monster smiled. “Yes, Red. We dance.”
YOU CRADLE MONSTER’S head, but Monster’s eyes remain closed. You keep shaking Monster, not caring that there is blood all over your hands and jeans. Monster’s body remains limp, so much lighter than you remember, and the chain remains dark and heavy around Monster’s neck.
The anger isn’t there now. It’s gone cold, like your white dwarf has burned out and turned into a black hole, sucking away everything inside you.
You felt like this at Mom’s funeral, and you remember punching one of the nameless mourners who showed up to pay useless respects. You don’t remember who that was, just a sudden crack as your fist met a nose, and then shouting, maybe you, maybe the idiot you punched—shouting for people to get the fuck away from you. Because you were alone, and everyone made it worse by pretending you weren’t.
The king laughs, jerking your attention up.
Ashley stares at you wide-eyed, a hand crammed against her mouth.
All around you, the Hall is still. None of the monsters are dancing any longer. In the starlight, holes appear above them.
You’re not sure when the wolf showed up, standing at one side of the throne. There’s a shadow-monster at the wolf’s side, wispy and long like a feathery snake. The wolf curls an arm around the shadow-monster.
You kiss Monster’s forehead, lay Monster’s head gently on the floor, and stand. You don’t know what to do. If this were a fairy tale, a kiss would bring Monster back to life. All you get is the taste of fur.
You focus on what really matters—you focus on Ashley. You focus on the living monsters around you.
Dance takes away the pain, Monster said once.
You won’t let the king take any more of your monsters. You won’t let him hurt your family again.
You begin to hum softly, the same music Monster sang. You know this melody. It builds in your chest and fills your throat. You’ve never had a voice for singing, but it doesn’t matter. The music is there.
Your limbs are stiff and heavy at first, your feet clumsy. Like when you were first learning the steps and rhythm and how to let the music flow around you, become part of you. If the dance is what keeps the holes from devouring your worlds, then you will dance.
The king frowns. “What are you doing?”
You step over the bones but don’t avoid the blood. Your feet are red.
The holes grow wider. You feel the air being sucked up and out, a rush of wind that pulls your hair in all directions. It stirs Monster’s fur.
For a moment, you can’t see through tears. You want your monster back. You dance faster, harder, flinging yourself into the music with all your fury. It burns and you welcome the heat and the pain.
Nothing around you moves.
The king leaps to his feet. “Shut up!”
Then the wolf begins to hum along with you. The shadow-monster joins him.
The king aims the gun at the wolf’s head.
You kick off the dais and sail through the air. You aim for the king’s arm, but you spin too fast and suddenly you’re between him and the wolf.
You don’t hear the gunshot over the music. There’s a pain in your arm and it fades to nothing as you dance. Red ribbons of blood spin around you as the music swells.
You move like silk in the wind. Faster and faster you dance, your heartbeat the only rhythm you need. Your feet are weightless and sure. It is when you dance that you know you alive.
“Stop or I will kill him!” the king screams. He wields the knife above Ashley. The gun lies far from the throne, swept aside in your wake.
But the knife. Its blade glimmers, every horrible word you and Ashley have ever been called, and so many more, twisting inside the metal. It almost touches Ashley’s check, and you know what will happen if that goddamned blade even scrapes her skin. She’ll disappear.
Your steps falter.
A thick, rusty wire muzzle appears around the wolf’s face, and heavy chains coil about the shadow-monster, pulling it to the ground.
Agony flares in your arm.
All
around you, the monsters waver and fall. Breath comes ragged in your lungs. You try to hold onto the song, but the music slips away as your body overwhelms you with pain.
“Bind her,” the king tells the wolf. Then, to you, “And if you take one more step, I will cut your boyfriend’s throat.”
You stare in numb shock at the blood spreading across your shirt. You crash to one knee.
Ashley’s expression hardens into fury. “You aren’t gonna hurt Red anymore.” Ashley twists away from the king and slams her heel into his crotch.
The king gasps and doubles over. Ashley rolls to the side as the knife comes down. The blade cuts into the floor. Bones pour into the tear in the world. Ashley scrambles backwards. In a blur, the wolf scoops the chained shadow-monster into his arms. You lurch on your hands and knees. The dais groans, bending at the edges. The whole structure will implode inward in minutes.
You grab Monster’s limp body and hold on. Ashley staggers towards you, her hair full of twigs and her face pale with shock. But she keeps her balance on the warping floor.
The king crawls to the gun and snatches it as bones cascade past him into the hole. The knife has fallen through, gone forever. He raises the gun at Ashley’s back.
“Ashley, look out!” you scream.
Glass explodes behind her. She whirls. The glass cougar crouches between Ashley and the king, one arm shattered by the bullet meant for her. You stare at the large shard of glass embedded in your leg.
Across the dais, the ivy girl vaults onto the platform beside the metallic velociraptor with glowing red eyes. A rainbow-colored tentacle monster heaves itself onto one corner of the dais. All along the edges, monsters climb and jump and fly onto the platform.
The king whirls, pointing the gun wildly, but it has no more bullets.
“Enough,” says the cougar. Translucent blood drips from its arm, glittering among the shards of glass. “You will not harm us any longer.”
Ashley clasps your good arm. “Come on,” she whispers. You can feel her shaking. “We need to stop this.”
The wolf crouches by your side. He still holds the shadow-monster in one arm; he easily picks up Monster in the other. “I will guard your friend.”
You don’t want to let go. But Ashley pulls you to your feet as the wolf holds Monster tight.
“Will you dance with me, Red?” Ashley asks.
“Yes,” you tell her. And before you can silence yourself, you add, “I love you, Ash.”
She grips your hands tight. Your words mean what you want them to; her smile in response is enough.
Together, you and your girlfriend hum the music once more.
The world is heavy. You struggle against the inexplicable weight, against the icy pain in your leg and the burning in your arm. Ashley holds you steady, holds you close.
You remember every time you danced with Monster. Every time you danced by yourself, wild and unchecked and free. Every time you wished you had the courage to dance with Ashley.
Faster and faster you move now. With the music, with the dance, you can pull closed the holes in the world.
“Dance with us!” you call to monsters. “The music is not over!”
Ashley laughs. The monsters roar.
Light blurs around you. There is a tremendous cracking sound, metal splitting and bursting, and the chains around the shadow monster burst into sparkling light. The wolf’s wire muzzle crumbles. The cougar’s glass ripples smooth into an unbroken mirror-shine; the shard vanishes from your leg.
The starlight catches the music and echoes it back. One by one, the holes crinkle and snap shut.
“You cannot do this!” the king screams, but he is alone and unarmed. His words go unheeded.
You whirl with Ashley in front of the throne. The king charges at you with fists raised. He gets no more than two steps.
“Enough,” says the wolf. He and the shadow-monster hold the king’s arms behind his back.
You pause, leaning on Ashley for support.
The wolf looks at you. “What, pray, shall we do with this one?”
The king looks around, his terror unmasked.
All the monsters watch you and wait.
“I never want to see him again,” you say to the wolf. “The rest is up to you.”
The wolf laughs and the shadow-monster purrs and shows very sharp teeth. They drag the false king away. You never see him again.
Pain flares sharp in your leg and arm. You stagger, and only with Ashley supporting you can you stay upright. You’re suddenly so tired.
“God,” Ashley says, “Red, you need to sit down, I—oh Jesus, I don’t even have my first aid kit with me.”
It doesn’t matter. Light shimmers along the floor, repairing the dais, and the most beautiful monster you have ever seen rises from it.
She’s covered in black and cobalt feathers, her face made of mirrors, and her eyes are dark like the sky. She’s taller and more terrible and more glorious than anything you’ve ever seen, and you know at once she’s a queen.
“Thank you,” says the queen of the monsters. “He chained me first with his poisoned words and so gained power, but you have freed us all. And you have begun the dance once more.”
“Red!” Ashley’s voice, so distant.
You think of bad cell reception and wonder if you still have your phone. You slip, falling backwards.
Strong arms catch you. “Red?” says a different voice, deeper and bigger than Ashley’s.
Monster is holding you.
Fur poofy and silky purple once more, grown to the size of a house (almost), Monster is just like you remember. And Monster is here.
“Monster?”
Monster smiles, holding you close in one arm. With the other hand, Monster pulls out tufts of fur and bandages your arm and leg.
Ashley kisses you and you pull her close.
Monster does not disappear. You throw your arms around Monster and Monster hugs you back and you know it will be okay.
For the first time in your life, it will be okay.
The queen of the monsters tilts a hand and the gates appear. Through them, you see a path through the woods. At the edge of the woods stands the hill with its dead-brown grass, and the school beyond. There are no more holes in the October sky.
“Do we have to leave?” Ashley asks, wiping her face with the back of a hand.
You look between Monster and the queen. You hate the stories where the heroes grow up and are banished, everything they grew to love ripped from them for no reason.
You fight to find your voice, and not let your words be muted again. “Please don’t send us away,” you whisper.
“You may always come and go as you please,” says the Queen. “You are forever welcomed here.”
Monster nods. “There will always be room for you in the dance.”
Ashley grins. You let your breath out at last. There’s cool, calm relief in your chest where the usual anger is. You lean back against Monster. You’ll have time to go back and call your aunt to reassure her you’re fine. There’s still time to take Ashley on a date for your anniversary.
Ashley rests her head on your shoulder. You squeeze your girlfriend’s hand, and Monster’s too. They hold you tight. The three of you watch as the monsters dance.
This isn’t a fairy tale. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a happy ending.
THIS IS WHAT being trapped in the event horizon of a black hole is like: your body is stretched, pulled, disintegrated into one infinite particle at a time, all while your mind can only understand pain. Your thoughts are distorted into a long, wordless cry that no one will ever hear because time dilates beyond human comprehension.
Outside observers see nothing wrong. You experience eternity because you are alone. You can’t see what’s on the other side of the black hole.
ANTONIO DOESN’T TELL anyone. Not his neighbor, who asks why she doesn’t see him and his dog on their evening jog, or his coworkers who always gossip about their dysfunctiona
l selves and kids and partners. He doesn’t tell his boyfriend—who’s over in Australia for business—when they Skype.
“She’s asleep,” is all he can say when Todd asks to see Sasha. He knows Todd doesn’t believe him.
But he can’t say words beyond that. They don’t exist in a black hole.
THE SHADOW APPEARS on his doorstep at the end of the week. He almost steps on it, a blot of dark in the evening’s monochrome light.
Daddy?
He jumps, shaking. That voice in his ear, a faded echo, is too familiar. Too impossible. The November chill winds down his open collar, prickles his skin like rough stubble. Muscles rigid, he looks down.
The shadow is half the size Sasha had been. Dog-shaped, with floppy ears and a bushy tail. He can’t so much see the eyes as know they’re there: huge and dark and sad. Its tail sweeps tentative across the porch’s age-warped boards.
Daddy?
He shoulders the door open, slams it behind him, and throws all the locks.
IN A BLACK hole, memory is trapped in your spiraling consciousness, neurons firing like supernovas, each one bright and destructive. The radiation burns out through your galaxy before it fades into emptiness.
In a black hole, memory is cyclical, endlessly repeating its birth and destruction as your mass collapses.
THE SHADOW DOG curls on the kitchen floor the next morning.
He stares down at it, and it peeks up at him with enormous eyes. Its ears droop, its tail tucking between hind legs.
Was cold, Daddy. Wanted to come inside.
Out the kitchen window, the lawn glitters with night-brought frost. Each grass blade is razor-edged in ice particles.
He turns his head, disoriented by the smell of coffee. Did he set a timer? He must have. Five years of habit still ingrained.
“You’re not Sasha,” he whispers. He pours coffee, slops it on his hand. The sudden heat numbs his skin. “Sasha’s gone.”
The shadow dog tilts its head to the side. Sasha here.
He grabs a handful of napkins and slaps them on the burn. “I’m going to be late for work.”
So You Want to be a Robot and Other Stories Page 9
