The Ugly Love of Monster Girls

I couldn’t have been more than five or six years old. That was when the first whispers began. Back then I was too young to understand them, yet old enough to feel their weight. The memory stayed with me, vivid, like it happened yesterday.

The room smelled. The faint scent of herbs and something metallic lingered in the air, a scent I would later recognize as blood. 

The local doctor was there, a broad-shouldered man with feline features. Deep brown fur and sharp amber eyes, he leaned over me, his tail flicking thoughtfully behind him as he listened to my heartbeat.

“Hmm,” he muttered, his ears twitching as he stepped back. He didn’t stop tapping his pen against the edge of his clipboard before glancing at my mother, Cassandra. His worry was showing on his face.

She stood nearby as her hands clasped tightly in front of her. I remember thinking how out of place she looked, her elegant moth wings and antennae acted like a centrepiece for the cramped, sterile room. 

“I’ll need a word with you, Cassandra,” the doctor said at last, his tone unreadable as his eyes darted between me and my mother.

I could only stare blankly, too afraid to ask what it was about. All of this was too new to me.

The doctor’s ears twitched again, but he gave me a reassuring smile. “Nothing to worry about, Markus. Why don’t you go wait outside for a bit? Your mother and I need to talk.”

Cassandra knelt beside me, brushing a strand of black hair from my face. 

Her fingers stuck for just a moment longer than usual. “It’s just a grown-up conversation, okay?” she said softly. “Go wait by the door, I’ll be there soon.”

Reluctantly, I nodded and slipped off the examination table. I stepped outside, the door closed behind me with a loud thunk.

But curiosity burned in my chest. The way the doctor had looked at me, the way my mother’s wings had twitched ever so slightly, it all felt… off.

I sat on the bench just a bit further away door, trying to ignore the muffled voices that kept pouring out from inside. But I couldn’t just ignore it, the temptation was too strong. 

I crept back to the door, pressing my ear against the hard cold wood.

At first, I could only make out fragments.

“...unusual readings… not typical for…”

“Viktor are you sure? There’s no chance…?” My mother’s voice, sharp and low.

“I triple-checked,” the doctor replied. “Cassandra, the results are clear.”

My heart raced as I leaned closer, grinding my face against the door just so I could hear clearer.

“He’s… human.”

The word struck me like thunder, even though I didn’t fully understand it at that time. There was a pause, heavy and almost suffocating until my mother spoke again.

“Human?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “But they’ve been extinct for centuries.”

“That’s what we thought,” the doctor said. “But his tests don’t lie. Every marker, every test, it all points to the same thing.”

Another silence, this one longer. I could picture my mother standing there, wings trembling ever so slightly, her antennae drooping.

“This… this can’t get out,” she said finally.

“Of course not,” the doctor replied, his voice hushed but firm. “If anyone found out, it would spell trouble for your family. For him.”

“What do we do?” she asked, her voice tight with barely contained panic.

“Keep this under wraps,” the doctor said. “And when he’s older, he’ll need to wear an inhibitor to suppress any… peculiarities. It’ll help mask his scent, his presence. You can’t risk someone else finding out.”

“But what if someone insists on running tests?” Cassandra pressed.

“Don’t let anyone you don’t trust lay a hand on him,” the doctor said, his tone serious.

“I’ll help as much as I can, but you have to be careful. The wrong person finding out about this could…” He trailed off, but the implication was clear.

The conversation continued, but I didn’t hear the rest. My mind was spinning, trying to piece together what little I knew. Human. Extinct. Trouble.

The door creaked open suddenly, and I stumbled back, nearly losing my balance. My mother’s sharp eyes landed on me immediately, narrowing slightly.

“Markus,” she said, her tone steady yet faltering, almost unnerved. “How long have you been standing there?”

I fidgeted under her gaze, unable to meet her eyes. “Not long,” I mumbled.

Her expression softened, and she knelt in front of me, placing her hands on my shoulders. “You’re not in trouble,” she said gently. “But you need to trust me, okay? Everything we’re doing, everything we’re saying, it’s for your own good.”

I nodded, though the knot in my chest didn’t loosen.

The doctor stepped out behind her, his warm smile back in place as if the conversation inside had never happened.

“Markus, you’re a healthy kid,” he said, ruffling my hair. “Just make sure to eat your vegetables and listen to your mom, alright?”

“Okay,” I said quietly.

As we left the clinic, my mother’s grip on my hand was tighter than usual. She didn’t say much on the walk home, her wings tucked close to her back.

I didn’t ask any questions, though I had a thousand swirling in my mind. Even at that young age, I understood that there were some things I wasn’t supposed to know.

As we reached our house, my mother’s grip on my hand tightened, her slender fingers pressing into my skin. It wasn’t painful, but there was something in the way she held on. A quiet, desperate concern that I was too young to fully understand.

When we stopped at the door, she finally looked down at me, her wings shifting slightly, her antennae twitching in that familiar, comforting way. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

I decided to push the thoughts aside. For now.