Monster

The stranger had lifted her up high, and then sat her down on the saddle, right in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her, securing her, keeping her in place. He did not say a word, but she could feel his breath in her neck. And, she almost believed to feel the piercing of his eyes.

His body was pressed tight to hers, she felt the heat emanating from it, and, she realized, she felt something hard pressing against the small of her back. He was dressed in rough denim and leather clothes, and yet again she became shamefully aware of her own nudity.

The reins lay loosely on the horses neck, it seemed to know exactly where to go, and never once diminished the speed of its galloping. One of his arms still holding her in place, his other hand started wandering, exploring her body. When she felt him touch her breast, squeezing it roughly, her spirit awoke to new life, and despite the speed of the horse and the distance to the flurrying sand far underneath her she tried to struggle free.

At the very same moment, she felt him grabbing one of her wrists with force, and pulling back her arm behind her back, twisting it painfully. She arched her back in a futile try to escape the pain shooting through her body, but he pushed her down, her face into the mane of the horse. She smelled the scent of horse, and hard strings of hair lashed her face, like whips.

One hand pinning her down, the other one was now free again to explore her body at will. She felt him encroaching again on the breast she had wanted to deny him just a few moments ago. He kneaded it forcefully, and then pinched her nipple until she couldn't suppress a small scream. Satisfied with that, he now turned its attention to her arse, kneading one cheek at first, and then sending a sting through it with a slap.

She could feel his hand reaching in between her legs now, pushing her further onto the horse's neck so he could reach there better. One of his fingers crudely pushed in between her labia, trying to find its way inside her. To her own surprise, his finger slipped in easily -- her body seemed to have its own will, and was reacting to his touches.

After a moment, he added another finger. The pace with which he moved them in and out of her matched the rhythm of the horses feet on the ground underneath her. The man's other arm was wrapped tightly around her to keep her in place, keep her from struggling or falling.

Then she felt him yet again pushing her a bit more forward, so her upper body was on the side of the horses neck, and she could clearly see the blur of sand and hooves and their own shadows underneath her, closer to her now. She could feel something else there, trying to push into her.

'He can't be doing that! I need to get away! He will make me fall, we will both fall!'

The horse kept its steady rhythm, its hooves drumming on the dry ground. She felt his grip tightly around her waist. It was all that kept her on the horses back, she had no chance of escaping. His fingers were not in her any more, both his hands were holding on to her, but she felt a stronger pressure, she could feel something slowly, little by little slipping into her.

In her mind, two thoughts fought each other, 'This can't be happening', she wanted to get away -- and the other, the one she tried to deny herself to think, that she wanted it to happen, that she wanted to feel him inside her. Yet, it was just that she feared.

The stranger had still not said a single word. Instead, holding on to her still, he now entered her completely with a single thrust. A mixture of pain and something else shot through her -- but at the very same moment she felt how he let go of her, how she couldn't stay on the horse's back any more. The ground, with sickening speed, seemed to race towards her, the rhythm of the horse's feet echoing in her head, and then ...

***

Renate sat in her bed, screaming.

"Good morning, beautiful! Have you slept well?"

'Stop doing this. Leave me alone.'

"Oh, but you like it. I know you do. I bet you wish you hadn't woken up just yet."

A faint memory of the dream still lingered in the room, Renate believed she could remember it more clearly than her other dreams. She felt a certain ache, an emptiness, caused by her waking up and being torn away from the dream. And yet, her heart still beat in fear. She couldn't forget the heat of the cowboy's body, but she couldn't forget the ice-cold pierce of his blue eyes either.

Sitting up in her bed, she stared out the window, onto the snowy street, on which some teenagers were lighting fireworks, trying to explode them as close as possible to the cars passing by. An elderly man stopped his car and opened the window to shout at the boys, but they just laughed and continued with their game.

"You know what I just thought of?"

'What?'

"You know how they always say, make love to my mind? I guess you can't call this making love, but at least I am fucking with it pretty well."

Renate grabbed a glass of water that she always kept at her bedside table, and in anger she threw it against the wall. The sound of the shattering pieces of glass covered the sound of his laughter for a moment.

"Uh-huh, you missed! Don't you remember I am not really there?"

Yet again the sound of laughter filled her head, the room, the whole world. Renate felt tears in her eyes.

"Stop it!"

She hardly noticed that she spoke the words out loud this time.

"Who are you? What do you want? Why don't you leave me alone? Where are you hiding?"

"What I want, beautiful? You, only you."

His voice had regained some of the soothing sound it had had a few hours, or days earlier -- Renate had lost track of time, she didn't know how long she was a prisoner in her own home, alone just with him.

"Don't you know that all I want is you, beautiful? Why don't you sleep a bit, you seem tired, beautiful."

He started humming a little melody. Renate could feel her body become more heavy. Sleeping, being lulled into her dreams by his voice, sounded so tempting. But no, she wouldn't let him do that yet again. She would fight.

"Where are you? Tell me! You are here somewhere! This is a trick, some mean trick!"

"Remember what your mum said? I am a monster, now where can a monster be? Why don't you look into the closet?"

Renate jumped out of her bed, walked to the closet in the corner of her room. She didn't expect to find anything there, of course not, but moving her feet cleared her head. The feeling that she was doing something, gave her an illusion of courage.

When she resolutely pulled open the closet's door, a scream escaped her mouth: Something big, dark was moved towards her, knocked her over. She fell to the ground, and felt something hit her painfully.

Still screaming, she crawled away, and jumped up as soon as she had freed herself from what had fallen on her. Laughter filled the room again as she saw the pile of clothes and books that had fallen out of the closet -- in her anger she had opened the door with none of the carefulness she knew her old closet required.

When he was done laughing, he spoke again.

"Oh, I guess I am not in the closet after all. How about you try under the bed? And I heard some monsters also hide in the toilet."

This time, Renate's scream wasn't one of fear but one of anger. He was laughing again, kept laughing, there was nothing that could make him stop, his unbearable giggling echoed through her head. She grabbed her sheets, pulled them off the bed, then the mattress, nothing was underneath the bed, of course not. Renate pulled open her dresser, threw out all she could find there, then, blind of fear and anger, she ran into the living room, pushing books out of shelves and throwing over the collection of records and CDs.

Finally she grabbed a knife from the kitchen, and cut open the sofa and armchair, shouting "Where are you? Where are you?" again and again.

Finally she sat down on the floor, leaning against a wall, exhausted.

***

Mozart's Turkish March intruded into her dreams, awakening her. For a few moments Katja fought against acknowledging that the melody belonged to her own mobile phone. She felt Karsten's body stir against her own, he was waking up to. Sighing, she left the warmth of the bed, looked for the phone in the pocket of her coat that was lying over a chair by the window. Outside, it was a dark late afternoon; they had passed the day in bed.

"Hello?! Renate! How are you?"

The voice on the other end was thin, trembling. Renate was crying.

"I can't take it any longer! I am scared, so scared. Please help me!"

"But Renate, what is happening! Tell me what is going on?"

"It's ... "

Then the phone was quiet. For a few seconds Katja heard nothing, and then a beeping sound that indicated the phone had been hung up.

***

"Tsss. Bad girl. Didn't I tell you not to call anyone?"

Renate stared at her hand. It had moved against her will, hanging up the phone when she had seen her only chance in that one phone call. She wanted to cry, but she felt she had no tears left.

"What do you want from Katja anyway? Don't you think she has better to do than talk to you? Why can't you accept that she has Karsten now? She doesn't need you any more."

'No! She is my friend.'

"Friend? Hah! As if you ever had friends. I am your only friend, beautiful. When will you learn this ... And who would want to be friends with a monster anyway?"

Renate was pacing from one room to the other, trying to escape the sound of the voice.

'No, I don't want to be friends with a monster. Go away.'

"Who says I am the monster? Haven't I told you before, that I am the real one here, and you are the one being part of my imagination? You are the monster."

'Stop it! Stop it, go away!'

"Oh, I would have difficulties acknowledging it too. Especially since no one would want to be friends with a monster. But you are one. Just look into the mirror."

'No. Leave me alone.'

Her feet led her to the mirror anyway, just as her hand had hung up the phone against her will earlier. It was dark, she could only see an outline in the reflection. Her hand searched for the switch of the little light above the mirror. Finally she found it, and turned on the light.

Grinning back at her from the mirror, there was a grimace, a snarling mouth, sharp teeth and ice-cold blue eyes, surrounded by greenish, scaly skin. The face of a monster.

A stinging pain ripped through Renate's fist, as the image in front of her sprang into a thousand pieces, and red blood covered everything. For a few moments she had to fight for consciousness, then she realized that she had hit into the mirror, broken it, and that the blood was oozing out from her own hand, that she still held clenched into a fist.

With that realization, the pain increased, but all Renate could do, was turn the light off, and return to pacing from one room to the next, leaving a trail of blood drops behind her. Only a few minutes later, standing on the carpet of the living room, she remembered the face again. She stood still, just leaned over a bit, as her mouth opened and her stomach emptied into a puddle of vomit in front of her.

***

"We HAVE to go!"

Katja was close to tears.

"She is fine," Karsten tried to calm her down, "One silly phone call, probably it was a prank. What could possibly happen to her?"

"But why isn't she answering the phone now, then? I am scared. Something happened to her."

"It's the last night of the year, Katja. We wanted to party, remember? I don't want to spent the night on the highway, just because your flatmate can't be by herself for a few days."

It took all of Katja's concentration to remain calm, to not shout at him.

"Good. Stay here and party if you want. I will take the train then."

Karsten uttered a resigned sigh.

"Alright, try to call one more time, and if she still doesn't answer, I drive you home. But both you and Renate owe me big time for this."

***

Renate sat between piles of torn books, the burned table, the broken records, and her own puke. She didn't recognize the apartment any more. What would Katja say when she saw it? What would Katja say to her? Touching her face with her hands, she could feel the big teeth, a nose that more resembled a snout, dry scaly skin.

'This isn't real. This can't have happened.'

"Oh beautiful. You are so much more beautiful this way, don't you think? Why do you still doubt. Come to me, into my arms. I will always be there for you."

Something sparkled on the ground, in front of Renate. She picked it up and stared at it: A piece of glass, a fragment of the mirror she had destroyed earlier. If she just could escape, if she could get away from him, and from everyone else, somehow.

"No, beautiful, you are mine. Stay mine forever. I will take care of you."

Renate kept staring at the piece of glass. Was there anything at all she could do?

***

'Hold on, don't let go!'

Her fingers hurt, her arms trembled as she clung on to the wall as well as she could. A gust of wind almost ripped her from her place, it tousled her hair, felt cold against her naked body. Far away she heard the cries of a big bird, an eagle maybe.

Looking down, she could see nothing but rock, a wall that went down forever and then disappeared into the clouds, or fog, who could know. Above her, there was the sky, sun that burned her skin. The wall went up quite a bit as well, but somewhere there, she suspected it would end. Somewhere there was fixed ground. Going up was her only chance.

'But how? I can't climb.'

Carefully she let go with one of her feet, searched for a place to put it a bit higher. Her fingers hurt from the higher pressure put on them now. She didn't know how long she would be able to hold on. Finally she found a spot for her foot. Now the other one, and then the hands. Bit by bit, she crept up the wall, sweating from the effort.

'Shift my weight, I must shift it so I can move more easily. No, no, I can't do this.'

Then, a piece of stone under her crumbled. In panic, her foot searched for a different spot to hold on to, but there was none. The wall was smooth. And then, she felt the stone underneath her hands crumbling too.

'I will fall, I will fall! I am falling!'

Suddenly air and wind surrounded her, the wall raced by her on one side, the fog underneath was still far away, but growing closer and closer. She believed to make out trees, hard ground, but it was still far away. A feeling of sickness grew in her stomach.

'Why am I still falling? I should hit the ground by now!'

She felt the air against her body. The wall next to her became a blur of red and grey. She fell and fell. Finally, the ground grew closer.

'I am going to die.'

She almost felt relieved by this thought. Just then, a dark shadow flew over her; she heard the bird cry again that she had heard before. Then strong, hard claws got hold of her, and she felt herself rising to the air again. A bird, too big to be any bird she knew, held on to her, lifting her up higher and higher into the air. Looking up, she could see the eyes of the bird. They were of a cold, blue colour.

Eventually, the bird seemed to reach the place it was flying to: A balcony on the wall, barely big enough for the two of them. There, it sat her down. All around her the wall was smooth, impossible to take hold anywhere.

The bird sat opposite her, watching her as she realized there was no possibility to escape. Except, it didn't really look like a bird. She was unable to say what it was, some huge being, a monster, with big leathery wings, a greenish scaly skin, claws instead of hands and feet.

It took a step towards her, and she pressed herself against the wall, in the hope it might open and swallow her, take her away from here.

The creature opened its mouth.

"Finally you are mine. I have waited so long for you."

She knew the voice.

'Where do I know this voice from?'

The creature took another step towards her, its cold skin now touched hers, its cold, unmoving eyes made it impossible for her to avert her own eyes from them. She could hardly breath, much less move. The creatures face was right in front of hers, its mouth resembled almost a beak, or a snout, as it pressed on hers, and she felt its tongue break its way in between her lips. She felt the tongue invading her mouth, felt teeth. The creature's breath mixed with her own.

The creature pushed her against the wall, she could feel the cold stone against her back, irritating her skin. And she could feel it's claw-like hands all over her body, exploring it, claiming it. Finally the claws were taking hold of her legs, lifting them, pulling them apart from each other. And pressed against her stomach, she clearly felt the indication of the creature's intentions.

The knowledge of the precipice to both sides of her paralized her. In the violent kisses of the creature she could taste her own blood. She couldn't see anything anymore, maybe her eyes were closed, as if to block out what where she was, what was happening, what was about to happen. A blackness crept up from inside her. Oh, to be unconscious, she longed to not know what was happening.

He did not wait long; she could feel it pushing inside her. She could feel its size, and herself not being ready. The torment, when it entered her, awoke her senses yet again. The creature pushed slowly at first, giving her a few moments to get used to its size. Then, suddenly, it thrust deep into her seemed to tear her apart, and the scream that escaped her mouth did bear a strange mixture of pain and unexpected pleasure. The echo of her own scream still hung in the air, as another thrust seemed to push her right into the rock behind her, the cold stone irritating her skin, bruising it, cutting little wounds with its sharp edges.

She felt the creature's arms wrap around her, pulling her closer, as it proceeded thrusting into her. It's claws teared her skin, it's mouth was still pressed onto hers, the tongue ravaging her mouth, the teeth cutting her lips.

She believed to hear the sound of its wings. The wall behind her back was gone. Were they flying? Were they falling again? She didn't know.

Her voice had become hoarse from screaming, all she could do now was utter tired sobs that were covered up by the creature's mouth. She forgot about the wall of rock, the air, the precipice. She didn't know who she was or whether she had ever been anywhere else. All she felt or knew was every new thrust deep into her, the pain never grew less strong, yet she now awaited each new thrust, his body slamming into hers. He finally let go of her mouth, and she felt his breath against her ear, as he whispered:

"Now, finally, you are really mine, beautiful."

***

"I swear, if she doesn't have a seriously good reason, I am going to kill her."

Karsten was in a bad mood. The streets had been icy, a few accidents had kept them waiting on the way, and once they had reached the city, they had found themselves in the middle of the fireworks that started at midnight, seemingly all aiming just at their car. This was clearly not how he had imagined to pass into the new year.

Now, maybe forty minutes after midnight, only every now and then there was the sound of another detonating firecracker. Instead, drunk people were singing loudly on the street, he could still hear it in the staircase of the house, as Katja unlocked the door to her apartment.

They were greeted by music.

"Und den Menschen ... Und den Menschen ... Und den Menschen ... "

"That's Renate's record, she loves that one," Katja explained, "But it is broken, it always gets stuck at that part. And she never listens to the rest, for some reason."