How to Raise a Monster by L’Erin Ogle – warning some explicit content.

Are you taping this?

Figures.

Defend him?

Do you know what it’s like to raise a monster? No, no, you don’t. I see you looking at me like I’m trash. I see it, missy.

Did he kill all those girls?

Well, I’ll get to that.

Did you know he had colic as a baby? He screamed all fuckin night and day, until I pulled my hair out by the handfuls. Nothing ever stopped him. I was like a ghost, walking round this very house. I bit my nails so they bled. That’s how it started, how I knew there was something wrong with him. One day I was holding, him squalling like a fuckin banshee.

Fuckin needles in the eardrums.

Here, let me light a cigarette. Hold on.

Anyways, I just sat him on my lap and thought about shaking him. You know, I went through a grieving process, blamed it all on me being a shit mother, but it wasn’t me. I got past grief and I got angry. I kept him, after all. I tried my best.

Anyway, I got a big chunk of nail off and my finger started bleeding something fierce. A big drop of blood fell right on his little fist he had all balled up, and his eyes just locked onto it. Stopped his crying right up.

He stared at it for a bit, then he put his fist in his mouth and sucked it clean. He sucked and sucked. He must have figured out it was gone, and he started up the racket again. So I put my finger in his mouth and let him suck until he fell asleep.

Oh, no, not that one. That one’s mine. I’ve a nip of whiskey in there. I like to be a little drunk at all times, little miss priss. Lets me get through the days without wanting to carve my fuckin eyes out, ya know?

Anyway, after that I started mixing blood into his milk. I’d just cut my arm and put a bit of blood in every night and he’d sleep like a—

Well, like a baby. A normal baby.

He started crawling and walking right on time. Like a normal boy, I thought. I even started weaning him off the blood milk.

One day I found him with my bathroom trash.

Made me sick, to look at him, after that.

He always could smell the blood on a woman, even as a boy. He’d hug them around the legs sweet as sugar, with his nose right up their crotch like a dog’s snout.

Sick little fucker.

I hope they give him the chair.

His first girlfriend, she was a cutter. He was only after her for the blood. He’d kiss all those little cuts on her arm. Heard them fooling around once, thought I’d give them a surprise, scare them a bit. I walked in and his face was mashed up on her arm, when he pulled it away, he was covered in blood.

Let me take a drink. I need a goddamn slug.

That’s better.

All his girls were cutters. You didn’t know? All the interviews, not one of them with short sleeves on? Never knew there were so many of them, but he found them.

Samma? She was awful. Just awful. Had to wear long sleeves and a high collar at the wedding. I was sick to death the day of, worrying she’d bleed through the goddamn dress.

At the end, wasn’t a spare inch of skin unscarred.

Do I think she killed herself?

Well, I weren’t there, but I can tell you one thing, that little demon wouldn’t have slit her wrists and let all that blood go to waste. I bet he sucked down as much of that bathwater as he could before he called the cops.

Was he sad?

He don’t feel things like you and me, honey. That boy was born without a soul. Just a hunger. Born hungry.

That girl went missing a month after.

I mean, there were others before that. Maybe that’s why Samma offed herself.

They tell you they got an anonymous tip? Well, they did. I know. I know a lot but no one listens.

His daddy?

Ain’t got a daddy. That’s enough about that.

They got another anonymous tip when they found her, all cut up like that.

I KNEW.

After the second one, that’s when I went to the house. Found the jars of blood. He’d been mixing it with milk. He came home, caught me. He didn’t know it was the beginning of the end. Thought I was too dumb to let someone know to call the cops if they didn’t hear back in an hour.

I know you been up there interviewing him. I got a message for you to deliver.

You tell him, when you see him, that I hope he burns in hell. You tell him I’ll be right here waiting on the other side for him. That Mama’s waiting for him.

Oh, you didn’t think I knew?

Mothers know everything, honey. I can spot a lovesick cutter girl like you a million miles off.

Now you be a good girl and deliver my message to the little monster I raised.

Tell him Mama’s waiting for him to come. And hell’s waiting with me.

(BANG)

 

L’Erin Ogle

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