Monsters Walk Among US (Ruthless Monsters Book 1) by Gracie Williams

Author:Gracie Williams [Williams, Gracie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2025-09-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

A Monster Made

20 Years Ago

Silas

Today is my 11th birthday. Mom really went all out, making all my favorites. Juicy hamburgers with extra cheese and crispy bacon, the creamiest homemade macaroni and cheese, and the vanilla cake with fresh strawberries that she always makes for every birthday. The house smells so good, the sweet aroma of the cake baking in the oven still fills the air. My Aunt Sydney came over and decorated the kitchen before I woke up this morning with balloons and streamers to surprise me.

Everything is perfect… for now.

After lunch, came the fun part… presents. Mom got me new clothes like always. Lame, I know, but it isn’t her fault. Sydney on the other hand, came through like she does every year. She surprised me with not just one, but two video games for my Gameboy and a huge stash of candy. One of the games is a brand-new release. None of the other kids at school have it yet. The candy is the good stuff too. Full size chocolate bars and my favorite sour candies that make your whole mouth pucker and your tongue tingle.

I’ll have to hide everything before Dad gets home from the station. He has made it crystal clear that toys and games have no place in his household. I used to hear mom and dad fight about it a lot, but not anymore. She doesn’t talk back, not after how bad it was the last time. She spent two days in the hospital after her “fall” down the steps that left her with a concussion, skull fracture, and a broken eye socket.

"I'm not raising a little pussy, Cynthia. I'm raising a man, and he'll damn well act like one," he’d growl at Mom whenever she tried to argue on my behalf. Always with a bottle of scotch in his hand and a beer within arms reach to chase it down. "If he needs something to do, he can either do more work around here or get his ass out on a field or on a mat and play real sports that'll toughen him up."

Dad is a firm believer that any activity for boys that lacks physical aggression is a waste of time. The only acceptable outlets for a growing boy are full contact sports that he deems appropriate or “manly” enough for his son to participate in—football and boxing.

"You're not a man if you can't take a hit." Always reminding me of his favorite mantra every time his fists connect with my body, or the steel toe of his boots find my stomach. The words are always delivered in the same condescending tone, dripping with disgust. I learned early on to bite my tongue until it bled, anything to keep from making a sound. If I cry, or even let out so much as a whimper, he reaches for his preferred tool for punishments, a switch. Though that's not really what they are.

Dad's switches aren't the traditional thin branches stripped from backyard trees.

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