THE MAKING OF A MONSTER
ADRIAN
Twenty-four years ago…
Isat at the grand piano, my small fingers working through Mozart's Piano Sonata No. 16 in C Major. The music room glowed warm and safe around me. My back stayed straight like Mum taught me, my dark hair falling in my eyes as I tried to get the hard part right.
Mum - Victoria Calloway - leaned close beside me on the bench, her fingers showing me how to play the tricky notes. Her hair smelled like her special perfume and the tea we had earlier. The diamond earrings she wore sparkled when she moved her head.
“Feel the music, Adrian,” she said in her pretty voice. “Getting the notes right matters, but feeling it gives it heart.”
I stuck my tongue out a little as I tried the hard part again. I wanted to make her proud.
The music room doors opened quietly as Dad - Vinny Calloway - walked in. He still had his fancy suit on from work, but his tie was loose. Even though it was late, his shoes stillshined like mirrors. I noticed him right away and sat up straighter. Dad didn't have to say things to make you know what he wanted.
He crossed the room toward us, and I could smell his cologne. Dad's face, usually serious from his important business, softened when he looked at Mum and me. The little lines around his eyes crinkled more, and the tightness in his jaw relaxed a bit. He stopped behind us, putting one big hand on Mum's shoulder and ruffling my hair with the other, which he almost never did.
“Sounding better every day,” he said, and I felt warm all over from his praise. Dad didn't give compliments much, which made them special.
“That's enough practice for tonight,” Mum decided, closing the music book gently but in a way that meant I couldn't argue. Even Dad listened to Mum about house things. “Dinner is waiting, and if someone finished his math homework correctly, perhaps a chapter from The Jungle Book afterward.”
I nearly jumped off the piano bench when she mentioned my favorite book. I carefully put the cover down on the piano keys like they taught me, then followed them to the dining room.
Our hallway had beautiful paintings and fancy tables with photos of us at parties. I walked between my parents, sometimes holding Mum's hand because I still liked to, even though I was trying to be grown-up like Dad.
The dining room sparkled with silver candlesticks, fancy plates, and crystal glasses all lined up perfectly by the staff who had disappeared by now. Through the tall windows, I could see London's lights starting to come on as it got darker outside.
Dinner was normal, even though our family wasn't really normal at all. Mrs. Patterson, who had worked for us forever, served each course and then left us to talk. I sat up straight,used the right forks without being told, and answered my parents' questions with the big words I'd learned from being around adults instead of kids my age.
We talked about my math test, Dad's meetings, and Mum's plans for a big charity party for children's hospitals.
“Harrison mentioned the Camden property is coming along as planned,” Dad said, the only hint about real business at our table.
Mum's face changed for just a second, looking worried before she hid it again. “Perhaps business can wait until tomorrow?” she suggested in her gentle-but-firm way. “Tonight is for family.”
Dad nodded slightly and started talking about our summer trip to the South of France instead. I noticed how Mum didn't like when Dad mentioned Harrison Blackwood, his money man and best friend, but I didn't know why that mattered.
Later, in my race car bed, I listened to Mum read from The Jungle Book. She did different voices for all the animals: wise for Bagheera, loud for Baloo, scary for Kaa. Dad sat in the chair next to my bed, half-listening and half-checking security stuff on his tablet between page turns.
I loved Shere Khan best, even though he was the bad guy. I liked how powerful and confident the tiger was. In my room with my parents, I felt completely safe. Dad was strong, Mum was perfect, and nothing bad could ever happen to us.
The nightlight made soft shadows on the walls as Mum finished the chapter, marking our place with a silk ribbon.
“Again tomorrow?” I asked sleepily as my eyes started to close.
My parents looked at each other with small smiles. Mum leaned down and kissed my forehead, her perfume wrapping around me like a hug.
“Of course,” she promised, brushing my hair back. “We'll always be here for you, darling.”
Dad's goodnight wasn't as mushy but still nice. His strong hand squeezed my shoulder, and he almost smiled. “Sleep well, son. Tomorrow we'll practice your fencing.”
They turned off my lamp, leaving just the blue glow of my nightlight as they left. I fell asleep feeling totally safe, with no idea that everything was about to change forever, that “always” would end before morning came.
A huge crashwoke me up. It echoed through our house like a bomb. It was too loud to be normal, too angry-sounding to be an accident. Someone was breaking in.
I sat up in bed, confused and scared. My room, usually so safe and familiar, suddenly felt dangerous. Shadows that had been friendly now looked like they might hide monsters. My heart beat so hard I could hear it.
My clock glowed red: 2:17 AM. I breathed fast and listened hard, trying to figure out what was happening. But right then, I just froze, not knowing if I should yell for help or stay quiet like Dad had taught me: “If you ever hear strange noises at night, stay quiet until I come for you.”
