I swept over the fields, kicking up dust and rocks that appeared in my wake. I had to keep moving. I wouldn’t stop.

The world grew darker and the air grew thicker with every movement I made.

Nothing would stop me. Nothing could.

In front of me, I saw a young girl. She looked to be about ten, twelve at most, but she was small. Even for what I presumed to be her age. A black beanie was pulled down over her ears, plastering her dirty blonde hair against her face. She was covered in scratches and her skin was raw from all the destruction I was causing. She looked up at me as I came closer and closer still. She was terrified.

Her thick lips gaped in an “o” for a brief second before tightening into a line. Her round face streamed with tears rolling down her red cheeks. Her green eyes were wide and reflected the very image of me in them.

A swirling monster of wind and hellbent fury.

She ducked into the ground as I bore over her, causing whimpers of distress to be pried from her mouth.

A monster preying upon the weak.

And I couldn't be stopped.

~

“Wake up already!” a voice called through the murky waters of unawareness. I felt a sharp slap delivered to my cheek and my eyes flew open.

Above me stood a tall, slim boy with filthy hair and thick lips, grinning like a schoolyard idiot. “Wakie wakie, Sleeping Beauty.”

It took me a moment to process what had happened. ‘It was just a dream.’

“C’mon. Get up,” the voice called again as the boy placed a hand on my shoulder and shook me.

I rolled my eyes and shifted up into a sitting position from my resting place on the floor. “Hello, Ivan,” I said as I threw on my beanie, pulling it down over my ears. I looked at the pile of books that lay sprawled around me. I picked up one that had an image of a small mouse with big ears and a needle tied to his waist. I must have read it a thousand times already. But I loved that story... I adored every word. I curled up and leaned the book in my lap as I opened it up to read. I raised a hand and bowed my fingers at the older boy. “Bye, Ivan.”

Ivan huffed and straightened tighter. “Mom, sent me to wake you. Do you even remember what day it is?”

I shrugged nonchalantly. “No, and I don't care.” I rubbed my fingers over the frayed pages, wondering if they had ever been smooth and new.

Ivan groaned in annoyance. “We told you last night that is was your turn today.”

I nodded and continued to let my eyes drift down the page. I mouthed the words ‘Once upon a time’ over and over again. “What did you tell me?” My attention was sliding with ease between my story and Ivan’s pestering.

Ivan leaned into my line of view and placed his hands over the pages. Once I glared up at him, he smiled. His victory didn’t last long though as his eyes darkened and he frowned out of pity for me. “It’s your day to slaughter the pigs.”

My face paled as I thought of the piglets I had been raising day to day just for this moment. I hated doing this. Everything about it. A flash of a red sky and squealing people flickered through my memory.

“That… That's today?” my voice dropped to a whisper.

Ivan knelt beside me and brushed a strand of hair out of my face. “I’d take it, sis, but you know how Dad will feel about that. He’ll think you’ve gone soft.” His smile was kind, but I knew the insult that lay in those words.

“He’s not even here! Besides, having a heart that feels any sort of sympathy or compassion isn’t weakness.” I stood, pushing past Ivan as my hands open and closed in frustration. “They used to be good things, remember?”

Ivan looked down at me with that same pitiful look. “Yeah, Holly. I do. But it just isn’t anymore… Just look outside…”

I didn’t need to look outside to remember how polluted the air was and how it was so wild and strong that rocks were whipped around. I didn't have to remember how there were hardly any trees or people anymore. I didn't have to remember that blue skies were just pictures in a book and that the real sky was a brown-orange color. I didn't have to picture the storm that brewed outside and in my head every time I closed my eyes. I didn’t have to remember what monster was outside, waiting to turn your very soul into nothing but a memory.

I felt ashamed. I shouldn’t have made Ivan remember either. My arms flailed briefly as they always did when I didn’t know what to say. Or when I was startled. Or excited. Pretty much like they did all the time. They were like writhing snakes that were always trying to escape from me.

My head ducked down towards my chest as I averted my eyes from his gaze. “Ivan… I’m… I’m sorry…” I was cut off as Ivan gave me a hug and wiped away the beads of tears that were building in my eyes. He was always quick to reassert himself in a positive manner.

“Don’t worry about it. Remember, don't go soft!” He rubbed my head, moving my hat around on my tangle of hair. It was annoying, but I couldn’t help but giggle with him a little. “I'm gonna split and hang out with Jonathan now. Cover for me if they ask, okay?”

I tilted my head, confused. Then, I laughed as I understood what was up. “Are you grounded again?”

Ivan just winked and sprinted downstairs and, to my guess, out the backdoor.

I laughed again. “Idiot.”

~

Once I was sure I was alone, I curled up into a ball, holding myself in a fetal position as I thought about the task at hand. For some reason beyond my knowledge, I have always found this to be comforting when I dwelled into difficult decisions. I thought about the pigs outside and how innocent they were. They never asked to have their freedom ripped away for them to be slaughtered meat. “I don't want to…” I said into my knees. I then gave a drawn-out sigh as I stretched outwards and surveyed the blank walls of the room.

The walls and floor were stained gray with the dirt and filth that had accumulated onto it. The room was also only big enough to contain me and my growing stack of books that lay beneath a grimy, broken window where a trash bag had been taped over the hole. That tape took forever for me to find and it was one of the greatest things I did find before it was recklessly wasted. The large pile of books, however, were the top of the ‘great’ list. They always made me feel a little better about the position I was in. I worked hard to find them all and even harder to learn to read them. I recalled the long process in my head. All the childish stories and picture books I had to slave away for. (Those books lay in their own pile along the wall closest to the exit door.) I remembered all the nights I lay awake straining my eyes to see what the tiny print said. The days I would be reading on the slightly cleaner floor downstairs and asking my mother what certain words were as she chopped and skinned a rabbit behind me. It was hard work, but I loved every second of it.

To match the cluttered floor and disgusting walls, the door lay askew on its hinges. Considering there was only one hinge holding it up, I thought it was pretty good. I would like it more if I could close the door, but privacy wasn’t necessary since I was the only one with a room upstairs. Nonetheless, I seemed to be left to my own devices more than I intended. A wind swept through the hall outside the door, and I watched the wooden monolith swing haphazardly as if daring to plummet to the ground. It continued to tease me as my eyes followed its gentle arc, but it remained upright for the time being.

In short, the space was tiny, filthy, and hardly suitable for a growing child, but it was doable. And I loved it. It was something that I could call my own, filled with things that were my own.

I stood and walked out of the room, stopping in the doorway to take one last look before I headed downstairs to become the monster all humans were born to be.