He laid in her bed only covered in blankets and facial hair that had yet to be shaved. She looked in the mirror, unsatisfied with the image that stared back at her. She studied the black mascara smears by her cheeks, noticed the bags under eyes from lack of sleep, and her hair was tangled into knots. She tried running her fingers through the mess, but he grabbed her wrist before she could finish. She glanced at the needle and spoon on the dresser before she clenched her eyes shut. He was screaming, which was nothing new. He always screamed at her, but she couldn't listen.

She took herself back to the time she was eight. Her mom was out of town on a business trip, so it was just her and her father at the house. She spilt milk on the floor trying to make cereal, waking up her drunk father, or what seemed to her, a beast. He yelled at her. Grabbed her by her wrists and threw her onto the floor, dumped the rest of the milk on her, and then ordered her to clean it up. Although, she was used to that behavior. It was when her father was drinking that beast came out. Her mother could never stop him, her mother was just as afraid.

When she was old enough to leave, she did, but she didn't just leave the house, she left the state. She had to bounce from different beds, different drugs, and different men. Each man acting like that last, each man acting the way her father once did. She lost hope and learned to accept all chaos that was thrown at her. She never understood why monsters were celebrated only on Halloween, she has been around monsters all her life. She considered herself as one.

They have found her body swinging on rafters in October. Perhaps, there were too many monsters to handle that month.