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Content warning: violence, abuse
***
Love – the beauty and cure of life desperately sought after by all who roam this world, yearning for its warmth and solace. How funny that this object of intense human infatuation shares its colour with its much condemned opposite.
Anger. Rage. Hatred.
Blood.
The colour stained his hands as he ran. Despite the raindrops cascading down upon him, it never seemed to wash away, remaining stubbornly on his palms and under the tips of his fingernails – its vibrancy a vivid reminder of what he was and what had just occurred.
He never meant for any of this to happen. He never meant to hurt anyone.
He was supposed to be the victim. Not the monster.
***
Caleb’s phone buzzed relentlessly beside him as he lay curled on his bed – its screen lighting up to display a flurry of messages left unread.
‘Cale, are you okay?’
‘He said you went crazy. Is everything alright?’
‘I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’m here if you need to talk.’
A bitter taste filled his mouth as he scrolled through the notifications, each message echoing a variation of the last as his friends attempted to convey their empathy and support for him. Despite their good intentions, Caleb could discern from their tone that they were getting frustrated with him and his behaviour.
Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
‘If they knew me at all, they’d know why I did it.’
As he placed his phone down, he winced at a sudden sharp sensation on his skin. Glancing at his hands, Caleb realised how stiff and bruised his knuckles had become – their once pale complexion tainted with several deep shades of purple. An intense wave of déjà vu washed over him at the sight. He had seen hands like this before.
Just not on himself.
‘No, don’t think about him. Just… don’t.’
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing his thoughts to fade away, only to find himself replaying the memory of his fight earlier that day – of him pinning the boy down underneath him and slamming his fists violently onto his face as he struggled to wriggle free. He had recollected the scene numerous times, reliving his rage and anger at the words the boy had uttered to him – “You’re as bad as I last remembered.”
Except the scene appeared differently to him now. Having calmed down, the boy’s voice, which he originally thought of as mocking, suddenly sounded more playful – as if he was sharing a joke between friends.
Friends.
Right, the boy was his friend. What had they been talking about before the fight? Was it about the video game they had been playing yesterday night? He had lost to his friend in that game. Was that what he meant when he said he was bad?
His friend’s expression flashed across his mind then. He had always imagined he looked furious underneath him – as if he would beat Caleb up the moment he got back on his feet. That was why Caleb had hit him so hard. But now his memory had cleared, and he saw the actual emotion painted on his friend’s face.
Fear.
And sorrow.
Curling his hands into fists, he embraced the ache of his bruises as they drowned out his guilt.
‘…I should put some ice on it.’
***
Caleb made his way to the ground floor of the house, tiptoeing down the wooden staircase in an attempt to not make a single sound. As he got to the corner that would lead him to the kitchen, he braced himself to be met with the familiar sight of a frail woman being berated by a strong man, his words venomous and spoken in a hushed whisper intended as much to keep their conversation a secret as to instil his insults into her mind.
However, when he entered the space, it was vacant.
The kitchen stood spotless, with the counter clean and bare, save for a basket of fruits that appeared fresh. Plates and cups were arranged in neat rows on the shelves, with some drying by the rack beside the sink, which was absent of dirty dishes. The place was well maintained – a kitchen belonging to a house with a functional occupant. A functional family.
Which reminded him that this was not his house – not the one he grew up in, at least.
‘Oh, right. I live here now…’
It should have been a relief for him to be living in a safe, anxiety-free environment after having experienced a toxic one. But he only felt more unsettled. Maybe it was because he had grown so accustomed to the discomfort that had plagued his life until recently that this comfort was disconcerting to him.
Or maybe it was because he could never forget the circumstances that had brought him here in the first place.
Ignoring his thoughts, Caleb made his way to the fridge and took out a packet of peas from the freezer, pressing it onto his knuckles and feeling the icy coldness ease the pain and stiffness away. He felt his body begin to relax.
Until he heard the jingle of keys unlocking the front door.
Instinctively, he bolted to the stairs leading up to his room – his heart racing as he tried to disappear from the ground floor before the person entered and saw him. However, he only managed to get to the first step when the door swung open.
He turned in a panic – a deer caught in headlights – bracing himself to see the face he had always feared.
Only to be met with one he was not yet used to seeing.
Stephanie – his aunt – looked back at him, her expression one of surprise that quickly morphed into worry when her eyes caught on the bag of peas he was holding against his hand.
They stood there staring at each other, neither knowing what to say until Caleb broke the silence.
“Hello.”
His voice seemed to snap her from her stupor as she let out a heavy sigh before saying, “Hi.”
Placing her keys gently on the table beside the entrance, Stephanie made her way to the kitchen. Caleb noticed that she was not carrying anything other than her handbag.
As he contemplated whether he should continue upstairs, she suddenly called out to him. “Caleb, come here, please.”
He took immediate notice of the seriousness in her voice. His aunt was a gentle soul who rarely spoke in anger, but she did have a distinct tone when she was upset.
Warily, he met her in the kitchen. She was staring at a part of the wall in a daze when he came in, seeming to be lost in thought. But when her eyes diverted back to him, he was surprised to see a sort of sadness reflected in them. “The school called me over.”
And just like that, realisation came crashing down on him – the fight.
“Caleb, why did you do that?” Stephanie asked, her tone grave.
He pressed the ice pack further into his hand as his mind scurried for an appropriate answer. He didn’t want to admit that he had misinterpreted the situation, that he had lost control of himself. She wouldn’t understand.
Or, rather, he was scared that she would.
Caleb’s voice came out weak. “He said something mean to me…,” he started, sounding unconvincing even to himself.
“What did he say?”
“He said… I was as bad as he last remembered…”
At his words, Stephanie took a deep breath – as if something in his sentence had struck her – before slowly letting it out, composing herself.
“Caleb,” she said, her tone even but sharp. “He was talking about a video game, wasn’t he?”
Her comment made him realise that his friend was probably present at the school when she went and explained his side of the story – unlike Caleb, who had gone straight home after the fight and hid himself in his room, not caring about the repercussions.
Now here he was, facing them.
“Y-you don’t understand!” He suddenly yelled – showing his guilt in all its glory. “When he said that, I just–”
“You snapped,” she commented, as if she was rehearsing a story she knew all too well – a tale as old as time. “You lost control of yourself.”
The way she spoke the exact words that were in his mind made his blood run cold. There was a reason his aunt understood his behaviour so well.
She was his father’s sister after all.
“No!” He screamed in rage. “No! I wasn’t like him! I wasn’t! You have to believe me!”
“Cale–”
“It was his fault! He triggered me! I was just defending myself!” He was heaving now, tears streaming down his face and leaving violent streaks on his cheeks. A buzzing began to grow in his mind, taking over his senses, and Caleb found himself gripping his head and shaking it vigorously to get rid of it.
“You have to stop being like this, Caleb,” he heard Stephanie say, her voice sounding as if it was coming from somewhere far away. He felt a pair of hands firmly clasp his own on his head, stopping his motion. “It wasn’t his fault, and you know it. But you also didn’t mean to hurt him, and I know that. It’s just… you still did, Caleb. And that isn’t right.”
Before he could respond, she had started talking again. “I’ve brought you out of that house. I made sure he could never hurt you again. And your friends, Caleb. They care about you. We all care about you.”
Her words were genuine and sweet, grounding him to reality – the sane in his insanity. He was beginning to calm down in her embrace until she spoke again. “But we can’t help you if you don’t help yourself.”
Caleb felt his heart skip a beat.
“There’s something inside of you that you have to face, Caleb. Something that only you can fix,” she continued. “And if you need help, I could get it for you. I know a good therapist.”
At the word, an incident flashed in Caleb’s mind. It happened just before he moved out, when he got into a brawl with his father that ended with him pinned against the wall and his father holding a knife to his throat.
“If I am crazy, so are you, son. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” his father had whispered to him. “We are alike, you see. Like father, like son.”
“I’m nothing like you. I’m not crazy,” Caleb had managed to rasp against the coldness of the blade.
He’ll always remember the way his father had chuckled, so sure of himself. “Oh, we’ll see about that. We’ll see when she decides to take you to those psychology doctors. She threatened to do the same to me before. And she’ll threaten to do the same to you.”
And his father was right.
“I don’t need help…,” he responded unsteadily. “I… I don’t need help! I’m not crazy!”
“I’m not saying you ar–”
“I’m not crazy! I’m not! He was crazy! He did this to me!”
Suddenly, his aunt grabbed him by his shoulder, trying to shake him out of his manic state. “Stop it. We can’t undo what he has done. But it doesn’t give you a reason to be just as bad as him. It doesn’t justify it.”
“You don’t know a thing about me…,” he said, pleading for her to understand. “You don’t know what I’ve been through. Why I’m like…”
Her gaze turned to steel right then. When she spoke next, her voice held a sort of certainty. “I do know, Caleb. Because I lived with your father. Because he was my brother and the perfect replica of his father, as you will be if you continue the way that you are going.”
Something snapped in him right then – the implication that he was his father.
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Stephanie must have seen something change in his expression, as a look of familiarity passed over her features before turning into fear.
The next moment, Caleb had tackled her to the ground, gripping the collar of her shirt as he shook her violently, screaming at the top of his lungs in crazed fury. “How dare you say I’m him! How dare you!”
Stephanie struggled against him and managed to push him off in time to get to her feet. Caleb saw her stumble and reach out for something on the kitchen counter, the motion so similar to how his father had reached for the knife.
‘She’s going to hurt me.’
Without a second thought, Caleb grabbed a glass vase close by and smashed it against the floor, shattering its body into sharp edges. Before Stephanie could even turn around, he was plunging the shattered glass into her back.
The world abruptly stilled.
When Caleb raised his gaze to see her face, an intense feeling of regret filled his chest as she stared back at him with wide eyes.
He looked to her hand, which now held an item he was all too familiar with – the one you instinctively grab when you’re in danger. When you need to call for help.
Stephanie was holding her phone.
And the reality of the situation began to settle in.
Caleb had just proven his father right.
He was no longer a victim of a monster.
He was the monster.
“Like father, like son.”
Written By: Zi Yi
Edited By: Zhen Li
