The Monster Beneath

The Monster Beneath

                        October 24rth, 2026

                      Cincinnati, OH

 As though he were several rooms over, I could make out his voice. Muffled, underwater tones. His touch alerted me that he was close, as I could feel his fingers grazing the side of my arm, saying horrible things, but also shushing me, like one would soothe a baby in need of sleep.

                        “Poor, poor girl, you go to sleep like the sick little baby that you are,” he whispers. He stops caressing my arm, and goes into a closet or the laundry room. He drapes a sheet over my body, as I lay there, panicking, unable to catch my breath, realizing in a frozen sadness that he is going to let me slip away. My husband, Ahmar is not making a phone call, and he does not seem scared or concerned.

 And then– there is an explosion of movement in the front of my home, in the foyer, though I cannot see it myself. The door slams open so loudly, the whole front of the house vibrates. “Mom! Mom?” Kevin yells, snatching the sheet off my body.

 Ahmar says that I was cold and asked for a sheet. That I wanted this.

 Kevin tells him to shut up so that he can dial 9-1-1.

 Kevin starts CPR and I hear him struggle with Ahmar, as though Ahamar is preventing him from helping me. I hear my son cry, as he struggles to help me. Finally, the blessing of sirens. Men and women come in with equipment and a gurney.

 “You knew! You KNEW she has been treated badly, that no one would care, and that no one would notice!” My son Kevin screamed this at someone, my eyes are shut but whatever is left of my logic tells me he is directing it to my third husband, who I married not a year earlier.

 I don’t hear Ahmar’s response as I start to fade, but I can tell his fingers no longer graze my arm. My body is lifted and pushed into a vehicle of sorts. And that is the only thing I can sense: movement of some kind, but without sound.

 “I couldn’t get hold of my mom, which is unusual, so I’m glad I arrived when I did,” I hear my son say, his voice trailing away in the October wind.

                           ***

                      January 2024

 “Is this seat taken?” a man with a thick accent asks me. I am at a movie by myself. I hardly look at him, but I shake my head “no”, and he sits down. I take a quick side glance, and see he is handsome in a boyish way. He smiles. His teeth are stained and in poor condition. It’s ok. Only the USA is so obsessed with perfect teeth.

 “I am definitely excited to see this, how about you?” he asks, his heavy leather coat accidentally rubs against my elbow.

 I am surprised at his good use of English, but appalled by his breath. It’s a combination of pot, bad hygiene, and too much coffee. I turn my head to avoid the strong smell of it. 

 “I suppose I am. ‘Back to the Valley’ hasn’t received great reviews, but I don’t care.”

 His eyes wash over me a few seconds too long, but I am not interested. I want to eat this slippery bag of Reese’s Pieces and watch Janci Cox stand there in his lanky grace while his blonde hair falls into his eyes.

 I’m sure that soon, my breath will be worse than his.

 “My name is Ahmar, what is yours?”

 “Barbie,” I say, smiling. I offer my hand.

 Throughout the movie I catch him looking at me from time to time.  When they can’t seem to stop (looking at you), it boils down to 2 reasons: 

Have I seen you before?

I find you very attractive.

In my case, there is a third:

How much plastic surgery have you had?

I have lost count on all the surgeries, but I am medically fragile now because of them. I am also broke, as I spent my savings, my inheritance, my 401k, and also went into debt.

Anyone who finds me attractive will have to take care of me.

But if you saw my paid off house, you wouldn’t know. You would think that I am successful. 

I wonder what he’s thinking as he continues to steal looks at me.

Is he wondering why I am alone? And if so, how alone?

There’s always a catch.

                    ***

Ahmar figured out the catch, but by the time he did, he was too invested despite not wanting to be. And I had overlooked and made peace with elements that I would normally not tolerate in a man. The passion was intense, but the emotions glided lazily on the surface. But interestingly, I was not stressed out or angry for the first time in years.

 At least, not initially.

 Within eight months of dating, he moved into my very comfortable, large home that has been in my family for decades. There should have been cold chills running up and down my spine as he peeked through the cabinets, picking up the fine objects that my grandmother once collected, or as he looked through the drawers in my dresser.

 “Is that your only jewel?” he once asked, pointing to my pink sapphire ring that I often wear.

 “Why do you ask?”

 “A woman of your background usually has more than one jewel. I am just curious why you don’t wear other pieces.”

 I smile and shake my head.

 “My sister wanted the jewels, the silver cutlery, and the Tiffany lamps. I just wanted the house.”

 Ahmarr looks at the floor, then up at me.

He thought I had more than what I have.

I thought he’d love me more than he does.

How did I arrive at this?

It’s due to the strength of first impressions.

The night we had first met at the movies, my car battery died. I was going to call my service company when he insisted that he should help. It was cold anyhow, and I could wait in his warm car. Actually, it was the kindest thing anyone had done for me in such a long time. 

 He didn’t complain– he went to work on the cables. 

 Three days later, he was bringing me lentil soup, since I didn’t feel good. I was taking a full week off from work. He didn’t chide me, he made me feel like it was completely normal to want to take so much time off for a cold. He wrapped me in a blanket, and hugged me, telling me I was delicate and needed to be taken care of. I was glad that he left because I didn’t want him to see me cry. Tears of appreciation tend to confuse most men.

 Another week went by and he dropped off more food, since my left elbow was aching so badly, this terrible throbbing. This time, we watched a movie in my small, home theatre downstairs. He lit up a joint, and I didn’t stop him. I had never been handled with such care, so that if he wanted to get high, so be it. I knew it would take weeks to get the smell of pot out.

 Our physical relationship ended up being much, much different.

 He was not careful in any sense of the word.

 I remember whiplash like I had been in a car accident.

 Or in a train wreck of sorts. This is despite my health issues. One night, out of my own rage and protection, I slapped him hard after he grabbed my face. He wanted to establish dominance.

 We didn’t see each other for a month and I was relieved. My nervous system settled, and I could take care of myself again.

 He was much more careful with me after that.

 But what I couldn’t get over was the fact that he was two, separate distinct persons. Not Jeckyll and Hyde, that was too extreme. He was…extraordinary in his warmth, but moderate in his anger.

 I held out for his warmth. And agreed to marry warmth.

 This too faded, maybe 2 months in.

 And then, my son Kevin came to live with us, and I was at peace once more. For the time being, I did not notice anything wrong between Ahmar and I.

 Except for the anger.

 We were slowly united in this.

 Kevin had been told all kinds of things about me when he was young, he’d admitted to hating me because I couldn’t take care of him when he was young, due to all my self-imposed surgeries. As a teen, his anger became all the worse.

He stayed with his dad and new step-mom full time.

But now, at age 23, having just lost his job, I invited him to our home.

 “Why did I learn, so late, that you became addicted to plastic surgery after the fire? No one even told me there was a fire. Not until a year ago did I find out.”

 I didn't explain to Kevin that he had been too angry at me to even hear me out.

 “I saw the pictures, saw the scars…Mom! I didn’t know! I didn’t, I swear! It makes sense now…oh Mom…all that time, it’s just gone. Gone.”

 Kevin leans in.

 “As for Ahmar, I see that he’s young, decent looking. Works in a lab. So…does he not have a pot to piss in? Why does he look so rough?”

 I explain that he takes wonderful care of me, and that’s what I need at this time in my existence.

 “ Kevin, I–”

 “Yeah, mom?”

 “Please be kind to Ahmar. Not many people have been kind to him.”

 “The same could be said of you, Mom.” He says under his breath. “I’m hoping he’s good to you, but I haven’t yet seen it.”

 Kevin, built so muscular and solid like his father, storms out of the room, knocking into the doorframe angrily. He is a bull, just like his Taurus sign would imply, but he is without a shred of grace, socially and otherwise. 

 He was always this way. Yet, when he loves, it is whole heartedly done. He is trying to protect me. 

                    ***

 “Had I been prettier, my boyfriend wouldn’t have set the house on fire, hoping to get rid of me.”

I’m sitting with my therapist, Catherine.

 “No. Otherwise ½ or more more of the world’s unattractive people would routinely be set on fire. So that statement is not accurate.”

“Oh.”

“Your boyfriend was a monster. You were with a psychopath. It wasn’t you.”

“What else was it? Besides being a monster?”

“Well Barbie. What do you think it was?”

“He wanted to get married. You know, for the money…and I was scared to marry him. So I wanted to break up. He said I couldn’t get any uglier…”

“So yeah, he didn’t set the house on fire. He set you on fire, right?”

“Yes. Because I was ugly.”

“Because he lost control, Barbie. Your BF lost control.”

"Why do I attract monsters? Maybe I am one too..."

"Barbie, this is non-productive."

 I never told Ahmar about the fire. I didn’t want to explain every surgery and skin graft. I didn’t ask about his previous relationships or what happened to him in Egypt. It was as if we should pick up from the day we met, and nothing before mattered. It was as if our “before” was of no consequence.

 We signed pre-nups. I didn’t want the headache of his businesses. But he wanted my home for himself. Kevin and I were not close at the time, so I agreed to it, though I was uncomfortable.

 About a week ago, I wanted to change the will and the pre-nup, making it a post-nup. Mainly due to Kevin being in my life. When my brakes went out, Kevin helped me, but he also taught me about what to look for, and the best mechanic in the area for the best price.

 “Mom, you have to look after yourself. Make decisions on your own. Don’t let Ahmar do this for you.”

“Kevin, nevermind. Just…nevermind.”

“Tell me something. After the fire,--”

“I don’t want to talk about the fire.”

“Dad said you liked people taking care of you. Men, especially. That it was the only time you got attention.”

 “Maybe so,” I snap. “I can’t get to that, I can’t get past the actual fire.”

 “I wish you could, Mom. It would be easier for you, in the long run.”

 Kevin simplifies it, and I understand why he would. If I could “just get over it”, my life would be greatly enhanced. I don’t want to tell him that I have heard this from other men, who honestly did not wish to be burdened with the horror of such an incident. I have just gotten close to Kevin again, and I don’t want to push him away with such projections.

 I’ve never told Kevin that there is no panic greater than smelling your own flesh burn.

 That would disturb anyone’s child, even an adult child.

 When I get home, new brakes and all, Ahmar greets me in the kitchen, with a cold, hard look. At first, I was pleased with how gorgeous the kitchen looked. A white kitchen goes dirty quickly. Ahmar made it spotless. But before I could thank him, he pointed to my laptop.

 “I saw your pictures. How…unbelievable. No wonder you hate being touched. You are filled with…fake everything. I bet you come apart like a doll.” His eyes take on a hatred that I’ve only seen a few times.

 I turn away in disbelief of what I just heard.

 “You’re another…Ahmar…another monster. I don’t mind being touched, I hate being grabbed. And you…you grab too hard.”

“I’m a monster? Have you seen your burnt face? Had you told me what you were, I wouldn’t have helped with your car the night we met.”

I sit down in my chair, and I catch my breath. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I can’t believe he is using those pictures against me. I have no defense, but why would I need one?

My breathing slows. I reach for my inhaler, but it’s in the car.

“I wish you went home after the movie, or changed seats.” I whisper.

“Speak up, my doll, did you say you regretted something?”

“My inhaler…please…in my car.”

“I’m so sorry, my princess, say it again?” His tone is disgusting and mocking.

My breathing slows further, and I know that with each passing second, I am at greater risk of going into a-fib. I try not to panic as I fumble for my phone.

He grabs it out of my hand and throws it against the kitchen counter. I hear the screen crack. It’s then that he goes on a rant about white blondes with fake curves are easy and good sources of income, except for me, who is cold and has less money than he had hoped for. I am false advertising. We have loser kids who can’t figure out how to be adults. We eat garbage daily and have too many dogs.

And that is when Kevin burst in.

Thank the heavens above!

Kevin made the call to save my life and now, I don’t know what has happened. I keep waking up and going back to sleep.

I don’t know if hours have passed, or maybe a full day, here at Glory Memorial Hopsital.

Finally, I smell food and I open my eyes. Turkey, mashed potatoes, broccoli. Hot tea with lemon. It is on an orange tray, placed on a bedside table. I look over and I see Kevin. He is seated on a hard, plastic chair–it matches my food tray. I smile at him. He looks up from his phone.

“Mom, oh Mom! I thought you were dead. When I saw you on the floor, with that sheet he pulled across your face…”

I am too numb to cry, but the thought of my husband wishing me to pass so easily, and not try to help me is so very sad.

And it’s then that I realize I am not going to make it to old age. We never know how long we have, but in my case, it isn’t much. I have too many health issues; it takes nothing to for me to land in the hospital.

“Kevin. I wasn’t there for you when you were young, and probably not even when you were older. It made you angry. And then I was angry. It drove us apart, but I was the adult, and should have known better.”

 I told Kevin how I reverted back to being a child after the fire, and how my two husbands paid, and I also paid. Kevin paid, as did anyone else who entered my life. Friends, co-workers, boyfriends, Ahmar… It was as if I couldn’t advance in my life.

“Mom, I couldn’t advance in my life either.”

This hurts to hear, but he is speaking his truth. But it makes sense: the dropping out of college several times, the quitting of many jobs, his money problems at such a young age.

“I always missed you. I don’t have the whole story, but I’m willing to hear it,” he says, trying to hold his tears back.

He reaches for my hand. It's then that I see my pink sapphire ring is missing, along with my wedding band. I'm suspicious, but I'm not upset.

“After I call Barney&White, the divorce dream team, let’s do that, Kid. I’ll fill in the gaps.”

"And get Grandma's pink ring back..." Kevin says, noticing my hands.

I wink at him before I fall back asleep.