The Tyrant's Trophy
I am the Monster.

Maybell:

“That’s fair.” Quinn agreed, getting to her feet. She took out her phone to dial Abijah. “Abijah has them and she’ll be more than enthusiastic about sharing them with you.” The call went to voicemail. “That’s odd.”

Quinn went to the front desk to see if they knew anything but it was useless. I couldn’t help but huff, frustrated. I wanted those papers and I wanted them now. Then I remembered that briefcase Abijah carried. She took it to her friend’s and brought it back and it was at her side when she apologized to me.

The documents had to be inside that case.

Luckily, Abijah didn’t take the case with her today. It was easy to find - the smell of leather mixed with Abi’s perfume made it easy. It was one of those cases that had a number lock to it. Who needed the code when I could easily break it?

The documents had everything. Each piece of information I learned about Phil made me hate him more. Abijah’s not made everything easier to understand and my heart broke thinking of all the children my husband killed…those poor babies. Each had a life and purpose and Phil stole them away. All those families, Phil robbed them of those bundle of joys…

I also learned that Phil was the cause of my dad’s death. My dad was stabbed in the kidney but it wasn’t severe like we were told. Logan was the man who attempted to kidnap that little boy - he was also the one who stabbed Pa. Phil was Pa’s nurse…according to the papers, he infected my dad’s wounds that led to his death. What makes this even harder to swallow is that Phil was PERSONATING as a nurse.

That was where I met Phil. He comforted my mother and I when Pa died.

"Pa…” Closing my eyes, I could feel Phil’s hand on my back, rubbing soft circles.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Phil sounded so empathically…his voice laced with sadness like Ma and I. It just drove home the truth that everything my husband did was calculated - some sick twisted game and for what? Science?

The man needs to die.

I closed the briefcase and held it.

“Maybell, I’m back.” I heard Chad say but I didn’t turn around. Chad had returned with Abijah late into the night. Along with them was an elder man, who needed a check-up. I didn’t care much for that - my mind was too tangled up in my husband’s web of lies. “Sorry I was gone for a bit - Ms. Iogair needed help -” Chad’s words cut short, seeing the briefcase in my possession.

“I asked you repeatedly…Chad,” I choked up, struggling to get the words out. My grip tightened on the leather case as I confronted the vermin. “How could you hold me as I mourned? I just wanted to know the cause of death…where she was buried.” Bitter tears escaped, streaking down my face.

Chad had the audacity to look ‘shocked’. He stepped towards me, so I stepped back, making him pause. “It’s not like that, Maybell.” He insisted pathetically. “I was trying to protect you - honest.”

Protect me?!

I saw black: not red or yellow or orange, no. I saw a deep, dark ABYSS. “Phil beat me because he loved me.” Memories came to the forefront of my mind. A bitter laugh escaped as I continued glaring at the sorry excuse of a man. “All those horrid things,” The lies, the beatings, my dad, and my daughter! “He did those things because he ‘cared’ for me and wanted to ‘protect’ me. What makes your words any more sincere than his?”

Men; why are they all the same? Why am I stupid to keep believing their lies?

“It’s not like that!” Chad made a grabbing motion for me.

“Don’t touch me!” I roared back, hugging the case closer but Chad took hold of my wrist. “Let me go!” I will NOT be the victim again. Not this time.

Chad refused to let go so I pulled back hard, forcing him to lean over. Then I punched Chad in the face. The force caused bleeding but angrily, it didn’t deter him. “Let go!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, landing various blows anywhere I could with my hair. I kept going until Chad released me and fell to the floor.

Even after that, though, I continued screaming, hitting, and kicking him. Eventually, he stopped moving completely. His heart still beat. How annoying…I could end his life…I could.

Quinn popped into my mind.

Chad better be thankful for his sister. She’s the only reason I don’t stop that heart of his. “I never want to see you again.”

Footsteps, many of them, were running down to this room. I heard the nurses calling out for someone to get Quinn or shouting if something happened. Their voices grated my nerves: they’ll take one look at me and Chad, and assume the same as all the others: I’m the monster.

Funny how now that’s accurate. I am the monster…just uncaged now and I refuse to return to the cage. After one last look at Chad, I turned and broke the window closer to the bed. It led out to the roof, and from there, I made my way to the other roofs. It was easier using my hair to lower myself to the ground. If I just imagine it, my mutant hair does it.

I lowered myself in between the corner part of the building, near the parking garage. People were walking back and forth from the building and garage, but nobody paid me any mind. It was no hassle to just lower my head and blend in with a hoard of people walking towards the busy street.

I still had the briefcase - with everything my dear, ‘loving’ husband had done. He made me this way: The psychotic monster out to terrorize people. I hope he's happy when he sees the fruits of his labor: the monster he cultivated. I hope he smiles with the same glee I'll have once I get my hands around that throat and take his life like he did mine.

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