To Love A Monster

by Marina Simcoe

  “A bear? How could it be a bear? That thing had horns, Sophie!”

  “Are you sure, Jason? I don’t see how you had a chance to take a good look at him. Unless you have eyes in the back of your head.”

  That shut the coward up.

  Sophie turned to the officer.

  “Can we go please? I’m really cold.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Monster watched with an odd sense of satisfaction as Sophie ignored Jason’s belated attempt to help. Instead, she leaned heavily into the officer, who wrapped her arm around Sophie’s waist, helping her to hop along in the direction of the road.

  He fought the impulse to follow them. Instead, he forced himself to face east and move towards the river.

  His jog soon turned into a full run as he dashed between the trees faster and faster, ready to jump out of his own hide.

  This morning, he didn’t need the icy waters of the river to cool the burning headache. Sophie’s touch had done more than the river ever could.

  The pain had become an inseparable part of him over the years. Under the slight pressure of her fingers, it had moved into background, dissolving into a faint echo of its usual intensity.

  With the pain but a distant hum now, emotions took over, bombarding him with a completely different type of hurt.

  Confusion, loneliness.

  Longing.

  Everything he had forbidden himself to feel, rushed him at once, threatening to drown him like a tsunami. The faster he ran to get away from it, the more it consumed him.

  His chest tightened and his eyes burned. He stopped in his tracks, stood up on his hind legs, just like the man he’d once been, and leaned his back against a nearby tree.

  He sensed her leave the estate the moment she drove away. He didn’t need to see her get into the truck or to hear the engine start. The sweet ache of her presence in his head simply disappeared, and he knew she was gone.

  He missed the intrusion.

  She was the first person he’d talked to in almost three years, the first woman he’d held in twice as long. Why did she also need to be the one who haunted his memories with guilt and regret?

  He fought the urge to howl in desperation, out of fear that the sound would reach the road, but his whole body vibrated with tension as he battled the onslaught of all emotions at once.

  Bitter remorse.

  Anger, so much of it burnt his insides.

  And pain. The pain of failure and loss.

  Alcohol was his way of coping with pain back then, and his hands shook itching for that unopened bottle of Crown Royal in the kitchen cabinet in the house.

  Instead, balling his hands into fists, he closed his eyes and let the maddening lust take over.

  The feral desire that hit him the moment he drew her intoxicating scent into his nostrils. The savage need that he held in an iron grip of self-control through the night while she was near, reining in the raging beast within—he set it free now.

  With a wild growl, he took a hold of his steel-hard erection, allowing himself to feel everything.

  The faint sting of his claws didn’t make him ease his grip—the physical pain alleviated some of the tension in his chest when he recalled images of her.

  Gone was the flat-chested awkward high-school student he remembered. Whatever Sophie had been doing all these years, her body had used this time to fill in and blossom.

  But it wasn’t the glimpses of her skin, not even the temptation of her curves primly concealed by the simple white bra that pumped the heat of desire through his veins.

  It was the memories of the warm weight of her body in his arms, the mouth-watering scent of her hair at his shoulder, the light touches of her fingers on his face.

  He closed his eyes, fisting his painfully swollen length. The growl in his chest grew into a roar as the speed of his hand increased.

  Her big, grey eyes—the colour of autumn sky—and the warmth of compassion in them when she offered to treat his headache.

  The one and only smile she ever gave him.

  All the things that he was incapable of appreciating about her when he was a man. Things that were forever lost to him now that he was a beast.

  Tears from the onslaught of yearning and regret burned his eyes at the same moment the hot spurts of his release shot onto the fallen leaves and dead pine needles.

  Spent, he slid down the trunk to the ground.

  The anxious, incapacitating tension had eased somewhat. However, no amount of self-pleasuring would ever make the pain of his past go away.

  He knew from experience the only thing that would help was to give up on his humanity and go back to being an animal.

  It took him years to get there the first time. And it might take him just as long again now. But all he had was time.

  Lots of it.

  Unless the cat, hunger or illness got him, he faced many long, lonely years ahead.

  Chapter 10

  AFTER I MADE A BIG deal about my injures to get her and Jason out of the forest and away from the monster, Officer O’Neil drove me to the nursing station in Rocky River, the closest town south from the hunting lodge.

  Upon leaving me in the care of the local nurse, she went to recall the search and rescue efforts already underway, including a small airplane about to take off to scout the area of my disappearance.

  There had been instances of people getting lost and even perishing in the woods around these parts, just like in many other remote places in The North. Everyone I’d met since my return seemed to be extremely glad that I’d been found alive within hours.

  “I strongly advise you to rest.”

  The nurse was about my age, with kind blue eyes and light brown hair. Over the course of small talk during her assessment of my injuries, Joanna and I discovered many similarities between us.

  The glaring difference between us was that she had actually completed her degree and was now gainfully employed as a nurse in Rocky River. She was the only staff member at the nursing station that serviced the people living in town as well as in the scarcely populated surrounding area, which encompassed hundreds of miles. A doctor visited Rocky River once a week, so it was Joanna’s responsibly to assess and treat all ills and injuries between his visits.

  “The doctor flies in on Thursday. It would be better if you stayed in town until then, so he could take a look at your leg before you go back home.” Joanna finished inspecting my foot as she spoke.

  “Thank you, Joanna.”

  “Oh, please, call me Jo. That’s what everyone else does. Do you need anything? Let me know if I can get you some groceries. You shouldn’t put any weight on your leg for now.”

  “Thanks. I should be fine.” I shifted in the chair where I sat with my leg up in Jo’s neat examination room.

  Officer O’Neil assured me on the way here that one of her close relatives, owners of the only restaurant in town, would be more than happy to rent their upstairs apartment to me until I was fit enough to travel home to Calgary. Apparently, the place came with room and board, and I had immediately agreed, grateful she was happy to complete the arrangements on my behalf.

  I had no desire to return to the lodge with Jason, and he didn’t ask me to come with him, either. Instead, he promised to bring all my things over before he went back to Calgary.

  Remaining a couple would have been awkward for both of us after what had happened. The decision to separate was mutual, as parting our ways seemed more natural and easier at this point.

  It would’ve been surprising how little the breakup affected me emotionally, if it wasn’t actually the norm for all of my relationships with men. As few as I had of them, all my relationships tended to be brief and superficial, and the one with Jason wasn’t an exception.

  I cherished the escape from loneliness that having a boyfriend provided, but the physical and the emotional intimacy that came with a committed relationship terrified me. I avoided it by settling for self-absorbed men who wouldn’t demand much co
mmitment from me because they were incapable of offering any themselves.

  “I’m planning to rent the apartment from Bob and Melanie, the owners of Bob’s Place,” I said to Jo. “I was told it comes with meals provided.”

  “Oh, you’re in good hands then. Melanie’s cooking is phenomenal.” Jo beamed. “I’m busy here at the station tomorrow morning. And I’m giving a healthy eating class in the school in the afternoon. But I’ll come check on you once you’ve settled.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Baby your leg until then. That’s a nasty thing to deal with on a hunting trip.”

  I kept the account of what happened to me vague. True to my promise to Monster, I refused to file a police report, brushing all concerns off.

  “Well, yeah. I shouldn’t have gone out there at all. So, it’s my own fault in a way. Serves me right for trespassing. Would you happen to know who owns that property?”

  “No idea. I’ve never been out that way.” She shook her head. “I’ve worked here for a year now, but I rarely leave the town. If I have any time off at all, I use it to fly back home to Edmonton, to see my family. You should ask Melanie. She was born and raised in Rocky River. I swear she knows everything and everyone around here.”

  I mentally added a note to talk to Melanie or anyone else who could shed any light on the origins of the sprawling property deep in the woods and its grumpy, mysterious resident.

  Chapter 11

  BOB’S PLACE WAS A MIX between a diner, a family restaurant, and a sports bar. As the only place in town that served hot food and had a liquor license, it functioned as everything for everyone, depending on the time of the day and circumstances.

  Despite Jo’s instructions to look after my leg, a day after I moved in, I got bored sitting in my upstairs apartment alone. Besides, I could hardly wait to find out more about Monster and the property he occupied. With more keenness than skill, I managed to hop downstairs not long after breakfast.

  “I have no idea who the real owner of that place is, honey.” Melanie was busying herself in the huge open kitchen downstairs, prepping for lunch and dinner, as I sat on the barstool at the counter nursing a cup of tea she’d made for me. “But I believe he is dead now.”

  “Dead?” Obviously, it wasn’t Monster she was talking about.

  “No one around here knows how he died. I’m afraid no one even knows for sure who he was or even if it was a he. One thing is true, it must be someone who had more money than they knew what to do with, I’d say, if they ended up building that mansion out there.” Melanie drained a huge pot of macaroni into a colander in the sink before continuing. “A lot of tradespeople were flown in from places like Calgary and Edmonton, but a few local guys ended up being hired to help with the construction, too. My Bob did some catering for the workers out there. And my cousin, Stan O’Neil, who runs the general store here, he was contracted to maintain the grounds and some equipment on the property a while back. No one got to meet the owner, though.”

  I twisted the earring in my ear, considering her words.

  “Wouldn’t it be in public records? The land ownership?”

  “I’ve heard it’s owned by some trust, but the beneficiary’s name has not been made public. Easy enough to check if you want.” Her dark eyes flickered my way. “Why do you want to know? Do you have a beef with the owners over the bear attack?”

  “No. Of course not.” I nearly choked on my tea. “That was all my own fault. If anything, the owners probably have a case against me for the trespassing. I’m just curious. Who would build something like that in the middle of nowhere, only to abandon it?”

  “I tell you, some people really know how to waste their money.” She blew a stray strand of glossy black hair away from her forehead and started arranging the macaroni into a casserole dish. “Places like that need a lot of maintenance, you know. One can’t just let it sit empty for years.”

  “So, no one has ever lived there?”

  “Nope. Not for any length of time, that is. I’ve heard of some loud parties being held there for a few years right after the construction was complete. People flew in from the cities for a few days here and there I guess. None of them came into town that I know. They just drove to the property straight from the airport.” She paused her work for a second as if needing all her focus to recall. “The parties have quieted down for some time now. A guy still came to look after the house for a few years afterwards. I’ve heard the place is overrun with wild animals now—dead deer carcasses have been found all around there. Guides from the hunting lodge say they’ve seen a cougar nearby.”

  The back door in the kitchen opened, letting in Bob, Melanie’s husband, as he carried a flat crate filled with groceries.

  “Hey, hon,” Melanie greeted him. “What was the name of that guy who came to check on the house in the woods?”

  She turned my way again. “Bob gave him a lift from the airport on his way to the hunting lodge a few times. Didn’t you, hon?”

  “I sure did,” Bob nodded to me in a greeting, “Morning,” then sat the crate on the counter next to the large fridge. “His name was David. He told me the owner passed away, leaving him in charge of maintenance of the property. Apparently, the owner was from Calgary.”

  “David stopped coming, too?” I prompted.

  “Yep. Guides at the lodge said he passed away as well. Someone made a call about a payment for equipment David had rented for that house. They were told he died from a heart attack. It’s been about three years now, I think.”

  He walked back outside.

  “It’s best to stay away from there, honey.” Melanie’s eyes glistened with concern. “Not that one would ever want to go back to that place after what happened to you there.” A small shudder shook her plump shoulders. “I tell you, thank goodness, your ordeal ended well. Could’ve gone all kinds of horrible. God knows plenty of folks get lost without a trace in the wilderness.”

  After sharing another cup of tea with Melanie and then helping her peel a couple of dozen boiled eggs, I hopped back upstairs where I went over my conversation with her and Bob.

  I wondered if I might have known the person who built the house. With over a million of people living in Calgary, there still weren’t that many who had the means to build a house of that size all the way out here.

  As a student in the most prestigious high school in the city, I had spent years surrounded by the city’s elite and their children.

  Henri, my father, had insisted I get my education in the most exclusive private school in Calgary. I personally knew many who would have had the finances to build that type of house so far up North.

  Some of the people I used to know, however, would have most likely be delighted to hunt Monster down if only for the bragging rights of having the trophy of his head hung over their fireplace rather than allowing him to roam freely on their property.

  The more I thought about him the more his origins puzzled me.

  Where did he come from? And how did he end up all alone?

  Chapter 12

  THE DOCTOR INSPECTED my ankle on Thursday and confirmed I had a sprain. Since no bones seemed to be broken and the swelling had gone down, I was given instruction to stretch my leg daily and was allowed to move around with care.

  Jo came to visit me almost every day after work. She claimed there was not much for her to do in the small, isolated town like Rocky River and she enjoyed having someone new to talk to.

  We would watch old movies and play board games at night. She’d tell me about the people in town and her parents back in Edmonton.

  Jo wasn’t planning on extending her contract with the government to stay in Rocky River after the current one ended.

  “As much as I’d love to leave already, I know I’ll be sad when the day comes,” she said one evening. “I like the people I’ve met here, and I’ll miss the children the most.”

  Jo did more than just healthy eating classes at the local school. In her spare time, she ran se
veral after-school programs for kids of all ages.

  “What else am I supposed to do with my two days off every week? Sit by the window and watch the snow fall? Nothing makes the time pass faster than spending it with kids.” She laughed. “I like being busy. Makes me feel useful.”

  I understood the feeling. Ever since I’d dropped out of medical school, I’d been doing volunteer work with every charity I could find. Soup Kitchen, Meals on Wheels, women’s charities, animal shelters—I did them all.

  I started it still in high school, but with time charity work had become my job, my hobby, and pretty much my only social life. Some days, I’d schedule my shifts back to back and work around the clock, sleeping right there at the shelter.

  As long as I worked, I felt being useful to somebody. Even if I failed to become a doctor and treat the sick, I was still helping someone by feeding them at the shelter, cleaning after them, or listening to their problems when they needed to talk.

  If I worked every single minute, there was less time for guilt or the feeling of failure that plagued me ever since I dropped out of medical school for poor academic performance.

  Also, my nightmares seemed to be occurring less when other people were around. So, if I didn’t have a boyfriend to sleep at his place, I made an extra effort to pick up as many night shifts at the shelter as I could.

  With my incomplete degree, without a job that would pay me instead of the other way around, I lived on the money from the trust fund set up for me by Henri, who never wanted much to do with me. The last conversation I had with him taken just over ten minutes and consisted mostly of him yelling at me for failing in school. It was also the longest conversation I ever had with my father.

  Yet I kept allowing his trust fund to support me, even as I donated almost all of the five-figure amount deposited into my account monthly to support the many charities on my list.