The Monster They Made Me A Family's Reckoning

"Lily," Rose peeked out from behind Dad, her face pinched with worry. "The doctor said those monsters come from toxins in your brain. If you keep giving me the ones you see so I can deal with them, you'll get better."

Before, I drew every monster I saw and handed them to Rose. She said once we burned the paper, the monsters wouldn't come back.

But they always did.

I didn't want Rose to worry, though. And I didn't want Mom and Dad to think I was a liar. So I just said, "Just now, I saw a…"

I gestured with my hands. "Something very, very small."

Mom immediately wiped her tears. "What is it, Lily? Don't be afraid, tell me."

Dad stared at me too, his brows drawn tight.

"It's not a monster, really." I waved my hands quickly, forcing a smile. "It was a little snake, rainbow-colored, really pretty. It grew out of a flower."

My voice shrank as I spoke, because I saw the vein at Dad's temple twitch.

"But," I added hurriedly, "it's hiding now. Wait for me—I'll draw it right now. I'll give it to Rose to deal with, and then it won't come back."

I looked at them, pleading. "When it stops coming, you'll take me home, right?"

"Of course." Mom agreed immediately. "Once Rose burns up these monsters and you don't have these strange things in your head anymore, I'll come pick you up next week. I'll make the braised pork you love."

Braised pork.

I'd almost forgotten what Mom's braised pork tasted like.

The food here always had a sour, spoiled smell. Sometimes I could even see bugs wriggling in the vegetable leaves.

But Head Nurse Patterson said the bugs were monsters I was seeing too.

Thinking about eating Mom's braised pork next week made me so happy I could barely get the words out: "I'll go draw it right now. Wait for me—you have to wait for me. It'll be ready soon."

Mom nodded hard, tears in her eyes.

Dad's tight expression seemed to ease, just a little.

Rose gave a small wave. "We'll wait for you, Lily."

I rushed to the table, fumbling a pencil and sketchbook out of the drawer. Picturing the little snake swimming in front of me, I drew.

I kept turning back to look. Dad, Mom, Rose—they were all watching me. I was so happy I wanted to cry.

I sniffled and drew even faster.

When the snake was finally done, I dashed to the door and stuffed the paper through the crack.

Rose picked it up. One glance, and her eyes went wide, her lips parting slightly.

My heart jumped into my throat.

Was she scared?

But I thought the little snake was pretty.

She stared at me in surprise. "This one's so special."

Special?

Not scary. Not disgusting. Special.

I froze. Then something small and warm bubbled up inside me.

Like a secret treasure I'd kept hidden, that no one ever understood—suddenly seen.

"Really?"

I couldn't help asking.

Rose looked down at the rainbow snake again and nodded. "Yeah. But even if it's special, it's still bad. Don't worry—I'll take care of it. It won't bother you anymore."

Mom and Dad leaned in to look. I hoped for something from them, but Dad just glanced at it and tugged at his tie, impatient. "All right, you got it. Don't waste time."

Mom looked more carefully. Her lips moved like she wanted to say something, but in the end she just took the paper from Rose, folded it neatly, and slipped it into her bag.