Monster- the Story of the Song

The song "Monster" by Meg and Dia is one of my favorites. It's touching, morbid, and emotional. I feel like it sings a brutal truth about love- and lack thereof. It tells of the way one treats others when not treated right. It is not for the faint of heart. So I wrote a story of how it might have happened. It may be right, it may be wrong. But it's what I saw in the song.

Full of hatred, love, violence, regret and pain, it's hard to read without getting teared up. But try if you will.

When you aren't loved, how can you learn to love? If you never know how, who's to say you can? What if you can't?


1. Monster by Meg and Dia

Monster- the beautiful song by Meg and Dia

Monster- how should I feel? Creatures lie here, looking through the window. 

There is a monster here. She can sense it. He is here- a creature of darkness. Hate rules his very being.

His little whispers- "Love me, love me! That's all I ask for, love me, love me..."

The little boy shivered and pulled his blanket tighter, squeezing his eyes closed and praying he won't hear him. He does, and the blows come. The smell of beer wafts over his nose, and he bites his cheek to keep from screaming. Why do they hate me? he thinks, tears welling up in his eyes. Why don't they love me? When his father had left him, he heard his mother yelling at his father. She screamed, I want love! Not sex! I won't do it! He replied with, But sex is love! YOU WILL! Her screams frightened the little boy, but as time went by, he got used to it. It's just how "love" worked. If you don't have it, you take it. 

He battered his tiny fists to feel something; wondering what it's like to touch, and feel something.

They hate me, so I hate them, he decided. Next time the man tried hitting him, he hit back. In his fury, the man shattered a beer mug on his head, but it was too late for the little boy to feel anything. His body numbed out the hate, the pain, the suffering. Better not to feel anything than feel hurt. It faded to a numb black.

Monster- how should I feel? Creatures lie here, looking through the window.

Time passed. He took the hint and ran away. He knew it was worth staying safe. He was hideous as it was. Nobody would ever love him now. So he'd live on his own. 

When he met her, it was like a magnet. He was drawn towards her. He touched her hand, but she pulled away. He tried to look into her eyes, but in disgust she looked away. He dropped to his knees in agony. Why had he let in feeling again? He knew it would make him hurt...

That night he caged her, bruised and broke her. He struggled closer, then he stole her.

He knew who she was. He knew where she lived. He'd find her again. And he did. That very night he lured her in. He tied her to his wall. She would love him! She would! But... how? 

Sex is love... his father's words came back to him. 

So he did what his father did that day. He tightened the ropes and pulled at her clothes. She screamed in horror as he stole what was hers to give. 

He laughed at her pain. He cackled as the blood began to flow. What his father had done, he did as well. So... this is "love".

Violet wrists and then her ankles, silent pain. Then he slowly saw their nightmares were his dreams...

She saw that her screaming only goaded him on, so she bit her lip and held them in. She soon tasted blood. Why was he doing this? Didn't he see how much it hurt her? How could he say he loved her when her pain made him happy?

When he seemed satisfied, he pulled the ropes off. Her wrist and ankles were purple and bloody. It startled him. Had he hurt her? He hadn't meant to be so harsh. He only wanted her love, but she didn't give it to him. So he had taken it. Yet what had he taken? Her virginity? Did she love him now? 

She whispered two words that changed his life- This is your dream? To create nightmares? Why do you act like such a... monster?! 

He stumbled back and threw her clothes at her. He hadn't meant to create nightmares! He wanted love, not hate! Why do you hate me? he cried. Go! Leave me!

I'm a glass child, I am Hannah's regret.

Just like he was born of the violence of false love forced upon another, he felt like it would be his undoing. His mother, who had brought him into the world through violence, would hate to see him leave the world that way too. 

Monster- how should I feel?

How else was she supposed to react? He was nothing but a monster! Who could love him?

Turn the sheets down, murder ears with pillow lace. 

He returned to his small house. As he stared out the window, he saw a young girl in a red dress. She was obviously tipsy, trying to get home. He watched as two men jumped from the shadows. He cringed as the jumped on her. She tried to run, but the knocked her to the ground, tearing her red dress. She screamed, and he could hear the pain in her voice even through his window. He cringed, tears in his eyes. They continued, laughing just like he had. They stole her twice. Why did this have to happen?

It dawned on him that they were doing nothing different than what he had done. He had hurt his love in the same way those men hurt that girl. He grabbed a vase from the floor and shoved the window open, preparing to throw it down at the guys. But it was too late, they had run off, leaving the girl sobbing on the street. 

He shook the thoughts from his head and crawled into his bed, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw the horrors of what he'd seen... and done. It tore apart his heart.

He howled into his pillow, sobbing and crying. What kind of a monster had he become?

Would he ever be able to escape himself?

There's bath tubs, full of glow flies. Bathe in kerosene, their words tattooed in his veins.

There was only one way out. He silently stood, knowing what he had to do. He pulled himself towards the bathroom. 

Just like his father had done. 

As he pulled the kerosene for the tiki torches out from underneath the bathroom sink, he was careful not to spill any on the cuts on his arms. The cuts from her fingernails, that fateful night, when she had fought him. Her words had filled him with remorse, and the scars would last forever, reminding him of what he had done to her. But it was too late to go back on what he had done. 

Just like his father.

He poured the kerosene in the filling tub. 

Just like his father.

He plunked down into the water, like a child ready to bathe. But he wasn't a child anymore. He had seen too much, done too much. 

Just like his father. 

The water was clear, with rainbow swirling grease lining the top. It looked so pretty. So deadly.

The match lit. It looked like a firefly, innocent and beautiful. It's light reflected off the bathtub walls and made the deadly water look like it was full of the glowing flies.

He dropped the match. The fire engulfed him. 

Just like his father.

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