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Prologue
The Monster
Five years old
“You useless whore!” the monster yelled, hitting Keyon’s mother across her cheek so hard she fell to the floor.
Keyon ran to her in tears and cuddled up to her chest.
“No, darling, go!” she whispered, pushing at him.
“Mama!” Keyon cried, unwilling to let go of her.
Strong hands picked Keyon up by the scruff. He kicked and twisted, screaming for his mother, but the monster was not to be bargained with. He threw Keyon across the room, causing an agonizing pain in Keyon’s hip as he hit the floor.
“I let you keep one useless offspring because you’re my favorite. But if you think I’ll allow you to keep the entire brood, you’re sorely mistaken,” the monster hissed. “You are not as beautiful as you think you are.”
“Please,” Keyon’s mother pleaded.
Keyon raised his head and saw his mother huddled in the corner, tears running down her face. She always cried when the monster came. Why did the monster even come here? Why did the monster hurt his mama?
Fear and helplessness gathered inside Keyon’s chest.
“If you’re not going to get rid of it, I’ll beat that bastard out of you!” the monster growled.
“No, please!” Mother cried.
But the monster viciously kicked Keyon’s mother in the stomach. And then again, and again.
“No!” Keyon cried and ran at the monster.
Keyon grabbed the monster by his coat, attempting to get him off his mother. He kicked and screamed, but he was too small to inflict any damage. His tiny kicks barely connected with the monster’s legs, his fists hit against the thick layers of rich, velvet clothing.
The monster picked him up easily and looked into his eyes. He had terrifying light gray eyes, almost white, that made Keyon tremble with fear. With one shake of his arm, the monster dislodged Keyon, and he flew across the room. A sharp pain originated in the back of his skull, and the next moment, everything went black.
When Keyon opened his eyes, his vision was blurry. He squinted but could hardly make anything out. He was lying on the cold floor, and his head ached terribly.
Keyon squinted again, looking around. He finally made out the silhouette of his mother in the other corner, and he felt relief.
“Mama,” he whispered and slowly pushed off the floor, trying to get up.
His aching head didn’t let him stand tall. Instead, he crawled toward his mother, whispering her name. She did not seem to hear him, for she did not move.
“Mama, wake up,” he whispered again as he reached her. “I think the monster is gone. You can get up now.”
He picked her limp arm off the floor and crawled under it, hugging his body close to hers. Her comforting heat never failed to calm him, but she was oddly stiff and not at all warm.
“Mama, get up,” he whispered again, tears trickling down his cheeks. “You are getting cold.” His mother didn’t answer. She didn’t even move, but Keyon kept on talking, trying to wake her up. “The monster is gone, Mama. You can wake up now. We can now go and make a cake for your birthday like you said we would.”
Silence swallowed up his words, and soon the entire room was shrouded in shadows.
“Mama,” he whispered into the darkness, but there was no answer.
Hell
Eight years old
Keyon stood in front of the window, looking at his hazy reflection. His clothing was in disarray, his hair mussed.
