“I wanted to see what you look like,” the monster says, after a long pause. “He still talks about you.” “And then what? When I actually came you got scared?” It doesn’t say anything, but I know the answer is yes. And suddenly I see. I see. Untrusting. Jealous. Clingy. This thing, whatever it is, it’s just like me. Everything about me that is wrong, putrid, and disgusting. Just a bunch of grasping hands, taking, taking, taking.
