Sacrificed to Shadows: My Forbidden Monster Mate

"Let us begin with this year's draft," the woman on the TV screen announces.

It's easy for her to smile. Her name isn't about to possibly be selected to be fed to a monster. I try to remind myself that the odds of my own name being called are slim to none, but I know, just like every other year since I turned eighteen, the knot in my stomach won't fade until the draft is over and another woman's name has been called.

My sisters both tighten their hands in mine. I sit between them on the couch, trying to offer them reassurance that I don't feel myself. We're all up for the draft this year. Me being twenty-four, Keri twenty-one, and my youngest sister, Leah having just turned eighteen three weeks ago. Every other woman between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five has had her name entered in the draft as well, but I'm sure, just like me, my sisters feel like their name will be called any second.

The anxiety is unbearable. Worse than the fear of hearing my name called, is the dread that I'll hear one of my sisters' names called instead. I don't know what I would do if it were. I wouldn't be able to save them any more than they'd be able to save me.

"We'll begin with the birthday."

The woman pushes a button and the screen beside her starts to change, going to different letters and digits before finally beginning to stay on one. The month comes first.

"February."

The day next.

"Twentieth."

My eyes widen as absolute terror fills me. That's my birthday. If it says the year I was born, my chances of being chosen have just increased more than I can afford for them to.

"Two thousand one hundred and ninety-eight."

A shuddering breath leaves me as I see Leah's free hand shoot to her mouth, trying and failing to muffle her cry.

"It's okay Grace." Keri croaks. "So many women have that birthday."

I nod because I don't know what else to do. I can't speak because it will show them how utterly afraid I am right now. The only relief is that neither of their birthdays have been called out. They're safe.

"Well, now that it's narrowed down, let's choose a name," the woman cheerfully says, as if my entire life and, well my death, doesn't hang in the balance with her next words.

Different names come across the screen, and I find myself leaning forward, mentally begging my name not to appear there. I don't know if it’s me tightening my hold on my sisters' hands, or if it's them gripping my hands more, but both of my hands hurt. I have a sinking feeling in my gut, something telling me to prepare myself for the worst possibility. I want to believe it's just because life has taught me to expect the worst, from people and situations, but it's more. An awful foreboding.

The final letters appear one by one, and that sinking feeling isn't just in my stomach anymore. It takes my heart right down with it as I read my name on the screen.

"No." I breathe.

"Grace Palmer." The woman excitedly declares. "Grace Palmer is this year's sacrifice. What an honor."

The people in the audience break into a cheer as a picture of me from my work ID flashes across the screen. An utterly heartbreaking sob bursts from Leah's lips and even Keri begins crying. She never cries. But then I can't hear anything over the ringing in my ears. My eyes are fixed on the screen, my name blinking in bright red lights as if I've won some great prize instead of a painful death at the hands of a monster. An honor, they'll tell me again and again, but it's not even an honorable death. And no one even knows if it's truly a death at all.

My body feels cold and yet numb. I'm sure I'm probably shaking, but I feel like I'm weighed down with the reality of what's about to happen to me. And the horror of not truly knowing what will happen at all. It's been the same before I was born, and every year of my life. A woman is randomly chosen, drafted as they call it, every year to be given to the monster who lives in the ground beneath us. To keep it at bay, to protect everyone else from the very same fate they sacrifice the women to. And this year, that woman...is me. I don’t even have twenty-four hours until I will be lowered into the ground, never to be seen or heard from again. Never to see my sisters again. Never to live again.

I jump when the doorbell rings out loudly throughout the living room. My eyes dart to the door across from us. How long have I been silently sitting here? My sisters cry louder and it snaps me out of my somber thoughts.

"Keri, Keri, listen to me," I turn and grab her shoulders. I have to swallow the lump forming in my throat at looking into her red, swollen eyes. "There's a letter under my bed with instructions for everything. The money's there too. It's almost enough to get out."

She shakes her head. "I don't...I can't..."

"You have to." I snap at her more harshly than I mean to. I repeat it softer. "You have to. You'll be all Leah has now. You have to protect yourself and her. You have to."

Because, even with death staring me in the face, that's not the scariest thought in my mind right now. It's that I have to leave my sisters here with my father. My ribs still ache from the beating he gave me a few days ago. Who will be there to protect Keri and Leah from him now? Who will distract him when he tries to get into their bedrooms when he comes home drunk? And he will come home drunk, drunker than usual, because the money that goes to the family of the woman sacrificed will go directly to him. Not to improve our worn-out furniture, or stock our refrigerator and cabinets. Only into his pockets, and then to whichever bartender he chooses for the night.

The thought of running only crosses my mind for a fleeting second. I can't. They would charge my entire family with treason and imprison us all. And if anywhere is worse than where we live, it's the overrun prisons where the inmates control almost everything and women fare the worst. I can't subject my sisters to that. At least with my father, I have the hope that the money I've saved can help them get by until they can add enough to it to get away from him.

"Please don't go." Leah pleads.

I wrap an arm around her, and bring her and Keri both in for a hug. The doorbell rings again, a man's voice demanding I open the door right now.

"You'll be okay." I assure them, wishing I believed myself. "You have each other. No one can break you two as long as you hold onto each other. You hear me?"

They both nod, their tears wetting my shirt. My own tears are begging to come, but I squeeze my eyes tight. I don't want to cry in front of them. Don't want to scare or worry them more than they already are. I want them to remember seeing me for the last time with a smile, even if it will be a shaky one. I can't control anything else right now, but I can control that.

"I love you both more than life itself," I say softly. "Being your sister has been the best thing in my life. I want you to remember that. Not this draft or any of the bad. Just all the good that we've had together as sisters.”

"Come out now!" The man demands, pounding on the door now.

I try to stand, but Leah's hands clutch my shirt, pulling me towards her.

"No. Please." She cries.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Leah. I have to go."

I pry her hands off of me, and when she shoots forward, Keri grabs her, holding her tightly as she sobs into Keri's chest. Keri's trying to be strong, her jaw clenched even though her lips quiver. I bend over and kiss Leah's hair.

"I love you." I tell her.

I move over to Keri as the man tells me I have ten seconds before the household comes under arrest. I kiss her forehead before moving so my mouth is at her ear.

"I love you." A shaky breath leaves me that I wish I could have held back. "Run if you have to."

It's a risky thing to tell her. Any woman who leaves her family home without the patriarch’s permission would face a harsh punishment if caught, but if it gets bad enough, I can't ask them to stay.

Keri nods just as the man reaches five in his countdown. I whip the door open and am met with his angry face.

"Well, you sure took your sweet time, didn't you?" He sneers.

"Sir, she's the sacrifice." The man behind him murmurs.

The older man seems to remember himself, straightening and pulling down on his uniform jacket to fix it. "Forgive me Miss Palmer. Please, right this way."

It almost makes me laugh, the respect shown to me just because I'm about to die for them, as if I have a choice. As if I sought this honor. I look towards the car idling at the curb, an all-black SUV, with tinted windows. I only know I'll actually be alive once I enter it from watching footage of previous sacrifices. I’ll be taken to the processing center. The last place I'll ever go to...above ground. Another man opens the back door of the car for me, and I take a single step forward. I tell myself not to look back, that it'll hurt my sisters as much as it will me. But it's the last time I'll ever see them. So, I take a deep breath and look over my shoulder.

Leah's cheeks are wet with tears and she's reaching for me. For the first time, I can't go to her. Keri rocks Leah back and forth, all the responsibility I've tried so desperately not to burden her with now firmly on her shoulders. She gives a nod that tells me they'll be okay. But her eyes are haunted and full of fear. I shouldn't have looked back. But I did, so I give the shaky smile I knew I would and swallow my cry to mouth I love you to them. Just before I’m about to turn back around, I see Keri take a deep breath, hardening herself, brows becoming severe, nostrils flaring. Good, she’s becoming angry.

Just as I have my control that has held me together for so long, Keri has her anger. It’s her shield. I know from the look on her face, that even with a shattered heart, she’ll protect herself and Leah. She’ll do whatever she needs to do in my absence. Leah…Leah we’ve protected so that she wouldn’t need a shield at all. So her tears continue. She’ll need a shield now and I hate knowing that as I look forward again and begin walking down the stairs. I get into the car and the door slams shut beside me.

Not yet. Not yet. I tell myself. No tears yet. I have to at least wait until we drive away, even though I know the tint is too dark for them to see me now. I take this brief moment to do one of the only things that brings me any type of comfort when everything around me is spiraling out of control. Make a list of all the things that are certain.

I'm about to be driven to the processing center.

I'll be fed, clothed, paraded in front of cameras, and expected to smile as if I'm not crumbling inside.

I'll be lowered into the ground at midnight, transferred down to the home of the monster.

I won’t live to see another day after this one.

Maybe I shouldn't have made that list after all.

"Here we are Miss Palmer," the man who pounded on my door says.

I ignore his extended hand to get out of the car on my own and look up at the huge palace like building before me. To anyone else, it looks like some grand residence, where balls and things we now only learn about in history classes take place. But all it represents to me right now, is the last place I will ever see. A prison, even if it is beautiful.

The flash of a camera makes me aware of the group of reporters waiting just beyond the security fence, taking pictures of this year's sacrifice, asking how I feel, if I have any final words. Me and my sisters have looked at these pictures and videos splashed across the evening news the night of the sacrifice, feeling sorry for the poor woman with tears running down her face, sobbing to be saved or saying goodbye to her family or lover one last time. I will not be one of them. I said my goodbyes to the only two people who matter to me already. And I've done all the crying I'll do for now on the way over here. I jut my chin up and walk towards the doors.

An older woman opens the double doors as I approach them. I can see the pity in her eyes as I walk into the center.

"We'll start with what you would like to eat for lunch and dinner," she says as the doors close behind us.

Only she and I stand in the large foyer, her words echoing. Somehow I hadn't thought about this on the way here, what I would like my last meal to be. Last. The word keeps running through my mind. How everything I'm doing today will be my last time doing it. I swallow, but it does nothing to relieve the emotions clogging my throat. I tell myself at least this is one thing I can control.

"For lunch, I'll have Dungeness crab legs, potatoes, and corn. All in cajun sauce. For dinner, ribeye steak, french fries, and...and garlic bread."

"Very good, Miss Palmer. Lunch will be ready shortly. In the meantime, we'll start with the grooming."

She extends her hand to the left and I begin walking. We head down a long hallway, side by side, but when I hear a pair of heavy footsteps behind us, I look over my shoulder. A man, tall and muscular has appeared, and is following us. He gives me a tight smile, but it does nothing to make me dislike him any less. I’m sure he’s here in case I try to run. Where the hell would I go? Back to my house where I’m sure they’d be waiting to haul me and my sisters away to prison? Run and save myself knowing my sisters would pay for my selfishness? They make sure to show us what happens to those women who try and run from being sacrificed, and still, when I have come without a fight, they sent someone to guard me. Bastards.

“Please enter,” the woman says, motioning to the right.

I look inside to find a luxurious room with a slim bed covered in black sheets in the middle. There are massage oils, as well as a wax station set up on the sides of it. I’m thankful that when we enter the room, the man remains outside as the woman closes the door.

"Please disrobe."

I whip around to look at her with alarmed eyes.

"We have to massage you, wax you, bathe you, and wash your hair before the stylist dresses you. For now, we're just doing the massage and wax, but we need to be able to access your uh... private areas."

I’m most likely going to be eaten alive tonight, and here I am worrying about someone seeing me naked. How foolish it seems, but still my hands are back to shaking -I don't know if they ever stopped- as I take my clothes off.

"Jewelry too." She tells me.

My thumb twists the ring on my pointer finger around. My mother's ring, two hands holding a heart between them on the front. I should have left it with one of my sisters, but I didn't even realize I still had it on until just now. I know if I ask them to send it back to my family, they'll deny me, and I can't stand the thought of them just throwing it away. I can’t stand the thought of them taking everything from me. So, I slip it into my bun, reminding myself to make sure to take it out before they get to my hair later.

Then I'm naked and lying on the bed. I wish I could say the massage helps any, but I’m far too anxious for the kneading of my muscles to do any good. And if I’d, unbeknownst to me, found any relief, that all fades the moment she begins waxing me. The woman tries to be gentle, I can tell in the way she lets me know every time the pain is about to come, but it all hurts like hell. Won't I be in enough pain today without them adding to it? Oh, but they wouldn't dare present anything less than perfect to the monster, lest he reject me and come up and devour us all, instead of just me.

She's waxing my legs now, and even though each time makes me yelp in pain, my attention is now on the whispers coming from the next room.

"What do you think he does with them?" One woman asks.

"I don't think he eats them at all. I think he's got himself quite the harem down there."

"Pay them no mind." The woman murmurs to me.

How can I not? My mind is asking the very same question. What will the monster do to me when I get down there? It's hard to tell if everyone assuming he eats the sacrifices comes from anything factual or is just the rumor that people speak the most, and so have come to believe. But there are certainly other theories. That he eats them slowly, hence why he only needs one woman a year. That he has sex with them before discarding of them. That he makes the women his slave, for work. Others say he makes them his slave for sex. I would never admit to anyone how much the last thought turns me on. Especially not when I'm hours away from coming face to face with the monster, and finding out which rumor is true.

But the image of the monster flashes through my mind anyway, making my effort not to think about my arousal pretty damn hard. There aren't many pictures of the monster, and the ones we have are from when it first emerged one hundred years ago. Some people believe it’s a different monster now, that not even something unnatural could live for over a century, but we know hardly anything about them to know if that’s true, so the picture is all I have to go off of. Dark gray skin, horned, muscular, taller than any human man by at least a foot, loincloth covering what was clearly a very large-

"Ma'am?" The woman's voice jolts me out of my thoughts.

I lift up my head to look at her. She nods towards where my thighs are now rubbing together. Embarrassment rushes over me. How can I be fantasizing over an old picture and a rumor when the only sure thing is that no woman who goes down there is ever seen or heard from again?

"I just...I need to wax your privates now. If you could...spread your thighs."

My embarrassment quickly turns to humiliation when I do as she says, knowing she'll see I'm wet right now. I should be fearing for my life, but instead I'm lying here, thinking about monster cock. What is wrong with me? I turn my mind away from rumors to facts, if only to stop this arousal that’s rushing through me right now.

I close my eyes against the pain of the wax strip being ripped off and think of what’s certain about the monster. There are four of them, one in each quadrant of our country, or what used to be our only country. A person from each quadrant is sacrificed once a year, in a specific season. We’re autumn. There are twenty states in my quadrants, hundreds of thousands of women’s names entered each year, and somehow my name was chosen this time. Even though I’m here in the center, my future only a few more hours of life, it still seems unreal. And yet all too real.

I shake my head, trying not to think of my inevitable death in a few hours almost as much as I’m trying not to think about my attraction to something that wants to kill me. Back to the facts. Autumn, winter, and spring quadrants all sacrifice women. But summer sacrifices men. I almost laugh at the thought of a man lying on a bed like I am right now, getting waxed and pampered. I feel the men deserve it far more than the women though. It’s their fault all of this is happening anyway.

They’d dug deep into the ground in the four corners of our country, an experiment to get to the Earth’s core. But they’d found monsters instead. Monsters that then rose up and slaughtered humans for destroying their homes. A bargain was struck, a sacrifice to each monster, once a year for peace. Funny though that we were the ones sacrificed and not them. None of the men who’d created this horrible problem were even given to the summer quadrant. Unfair, like always. Maybe having dirty thoughts is better than thinking about reality right now. It only adds anger to my grief.