Page 12 of Our Monstrous Hearts

“I have a surprise for you.”

My face lights up with excitement, though doubt casts a heavy shadow. For a moment I’m convinced that my ears are deceiving me, because it can’t be possible. Everyone in my life this far has shown me that I am forgettable, that no one thinks of me, let alone enough to surprise me. Above all, everyone has shown me that I’m unworthy of kindness.

Useless girl.

“Really?” I ask softly, insecurity weaving its way through my tone. My fingers pick anxiously at my nails, needing to tear the skin away until nothing is left but a festering hole. Though the monster hasn’t given me any reason to doubt his words, it’s ingrained in me to hear lies instead of the truth.

Izcacus stands rigidly, like he’s frozen to the spot. For a second, I’m afraid that he has, and I resist the urge to prod him to check. He’s impossibly still, his face as blank as stone. But then his pointed ears twitch and he nods his head, brief and curt, before holding out his hand…to me.

Wonder and disbelief fill my eyes as I stare at his hand. My heart feels like it will leap up through my esophagus, exploding out of my mouth in a burst of giddy happiness, like little fireworks set off in the night. I’m learning as I spend time with Izcacus that soft edges and quiet kindness make up his heart. He’s showing that there are goodhearted creatures in the world, and bruising cruelty doesn’t make up every being.

My teeth nibble into my bottom lip, but I can’t contain the smile that fights to break free and instead grab his hand. Izcacus looks away, as if embarrassed by the contact, and I glance up at him through my eyelashes, wondering if the light-blue tinge on his cheeks is his version of a blush.

That first, initial touch is always a shock. His skin is as cold and hard as ice, but when his fingers wrap around my hands, our warmth melts away the sharp edge of frost. It’s a strange sight, his skeletal hand encompassing mine like gnarled roots around a long-forgotten ruin. Tender touches are not something I’m used to, but I’m learning that they make my heart flutter. When my mind isn’t being invaded by terrible thoughts that make me want to set myself on fire, I’m learning that I can enjoy the way I feel when with him.

Izcacus leads us outside, and with my claimed gown swaying around my ankles, I feel like the princess of this ravaged castle.

Everything I see, I find enamoring. Moonlight shines through fractures in the stone, and grass grows wild across paths.

We walk through open iron gates that hang crookedly, and I admire the haunting beauty of a graveyard. Fallen, stone angels lie to the side, their faces eroded by weather. The thought of death has always brought me comfort. A mother’s embrace come to carry me to freedom. Mist curls between headstones, and overgrown snapdragons and midnight hyacinths join twisted vines to ensnare sunken graves for themselves.

When I spot a clearing in the grass, nestled between tombstones blanketed with an ornate rug and surrounded by glowing lanterns, I gasp. It’s a beautiful setup, and when I realize that Izcacus has done this for me, I turn to him, mouth agape.

“I thought you might enjoy supper outside because the stars glow particularly bright, but if you prefer the castle, we can certainly go back.”

A lump forms at the back of my throat as emotion wells. This is the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me.

“Perhaps I should have asked you first. I apologize. I do not mean to assume what you might prefer. I only wanted it to be a surprise. Hopefully a pleasant one.”

“It’s beautiful,” I tell him as I look up at his decaying face, but he again avoids my gaze. “Thank you.” I see the same blue tint adorn his cheeks in the moonlight.

“Please, do not speak of this to anyone. It shall tarnish the reputation that I wish to uphold,” he says stiffly.

My hand covers my mouth as I stifle a giggle. This time I don’t miss the way a corner of his lips twitches up, and I find myself wondering about him and the hidden truths I’ve not yet uncovered. Izcacus always speaks in such an old-fashioned way, and I know he’s old, like I-should-be-dead old, but I wonder what his age really is. I won’t ask, though. I know it’s impolite to pose such a question, and I don’t want to upset him or make him mad.

Or make him hate me.

Sitting on the rug, I shuffle closer to Izcacus, finding that I would rather be nearer to him than farther away, as if gravity draws us together.

“Why do you want people to be scared of you?”

There’s a moment of silence as he deliberates his response.

“Monsters do not kneel, they do not beg, they have no masters. In fear, there is freedom. No one dares to chain me; the only rules are my own.”

If being monstrous means that I belong to no one but myself, then I can understand why he would want people to fear him. It would be a blessing to be free.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I were more like him.

The thought turns around in my head while I study the spread Izcacus has prepared. He serves little round cakes, strawberries, slices of pear, a variety of cheeses, and crackers. My stomach clenches at the sight. Seeing food has reminded me that I haven’t eaten in some time.

“Thank you. This looks delicious,” I tell him softly as I reach for a pear slice, realizing that this is the first time someone has ever given me food. For as long as I can remember, even through my childhood, I have always been the one to make food for others. No one took care of me.

He is giving me a lot of firsts.

“If it’s okay to ask…are you human, like me? Or…something else?”

My teeth sink into the crisp fruit, and I moan as juice bursts in my mouth, my tongue tasting hints of vanilla. I haven’t eaten anything so delicious in a long time. A drop of juice slides down my chin, leaving a sticky trail. I swipe the pad of my thumb across, catching the pearl before sucking, my tongue lapping the sweetness from my finger.