Chapter 2 - THE LOGIC OF MONSTERS
The man’s chest expanded.
He leaned forward, his shadow entirely swallowing the two figures on the floor.
"Look what you did."
His voice wasn't a yell.
It was a low, vibrating hum that rattled the glass of the coffee table.
It was the sound of a predator cornering a wounded animal in the dark.
Claire’s small fingers dug into the fabric of her mother’s robe.
She twisted the expensive silk into tight, wet knots.
She pressed her ear flat against her mother’s collarbone.
Beneath the fabric, she could hear the frantic, bird-like fluttering of her mother’s heartbeat.
Child logic painted the room in stark, simple colors.
Monsters always wear black so you can't see them coming when the lights go out.
If I close my eyes, the black shirt disappears.
If I cover the baby in Mommy's tummy, the monster can't see the bump.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but the heavy scent of his expensive cologne—pine and cold alcohol—still flooded her nose.
The mother shifted her weight on the carpet.
Her left arm wrapped around Claire’s trembling shoulders, pulling the girl’s small frame flush against her own.
Her right hand remained locked over her pregnant belly.
She swallowed hard.
The red welt on her cheek burned, radiating heat into her left eye.
She forced her neck to straighten.
She did not look up at the black shoes.
She pressed her cracked lips against the crown of Claire’s head, right where the blonde ponytail gathered.
"Everything is fine, my sweetheart."
The lie tasted like copper and dust on her tongue.
"Mommy is here, Claire."
The man scoffed.
The sound was sharp, dismissive, cutting through the warm lighting of the room like a razor blade.
He took a half-step forward.
His polished black shoe grazed the hem of the cream silk nightgown.
Claire shrank further into the fabric.
If I make myself small enough, the child reasoned, he will trip over me and forget why he was mad.
But the man didn't trip.
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He just stood there, a towering monolith of dark fabric and tense muscle.
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