There used to be an age-old question that was used to argue for the idea that monsters were not sapient or even conscious despite their intelligence. The question was simple: Do monsters dream?

  The question was ridiculous, a pointless intellectual exercise to paint humanity’s allies as mindless creatures, as it argued that no monster could dream or wonder. It didn’t help that in the same year when the question was asked, it was proven that intelligent horrifica’s like angels and demons could indeed dream. Which further disproved the rhetoric the question tried to propose in discrediting the existence and life of anyone humanity deemed unworthy.

  However, after a few centuries, the question remained. Not to prove anything, but to ask a philosophical question to determine the wants and desires of something that wasn’t considered human. It became less about measuring the proper autonomy of an individual, but about questioning what they ought to be. To understand what their hearts really desired at the moment. It would be no surprise that the question was asked about Jackson.

  When Jackson sleeps, he dreams of the same thing ever since his family was murdered. Someone would expect a man who lost everything to dream of the happiest day he spent with his wife and daughter. Or relive the worst day, as he was chained down and watched them both burn alive. Hearing his wife scream as she was engulfed in flames, her flesh burning black while her bones turned to ash.

  No. His fractured mind wouldn’t allow him to dream of that. There was no point to it. Instead, his subconscious would remind him of the promise he had made and how he had been willing to break it.

  Ever since the day of her death. He would walk along an endless beach. Its soft white sand gently grind against his scaled feet and rubbed the gap between his two front toes. The cool ocean waters would wash onto the shore, cleaning his dirty feet.

  He saw himself as the manifestation of rot. Covered in dirt, mud, and gore. His self-hatred and self-loathing made him incapable of searching for any redeeming quality or aspect of personality that was charming to some people. 75 years underground made him reflect on the person he was, and how he grew to despise every second of it. Which, in his case, I agree with his assessment. If anyone would see the sort of beast he was, they too would be disgusted and wish for his death.

  In the distance, sitting on a bench overlooking the endless ocean, was a beautiful, plump woman with short brown hair wearing a white summer dress with orange flowers on it. Jackson’s heart skipped a beat, stopping his tracks as he stared at her and admired her beauty. But he knew he shouldn’t let her wait for him. Not when they both needed to talk.

  Jackson sat at the other side of the bench, away from Hannah, keeping his dirty body away from the woman he loved to keep her clean and pure. She glanced at the reptile, looking worried as he sat away from her. ‘You don’t need to do this, love. You can sit with me.’

  ‘No,’ Jackson shook his head. ‘It’s okay. I just…’ He paused, trying to find his words before settling for a comfortable lie. ‘I don’t want to ruin your dress.’

  Her lips formed a subtle smile. ‘There is nothing to ruin.’ Hannah slid across the bench to be next to Jackson. As she got closer, his body stiffened. To relax his nerves, Hannah rested a hand on his scaly hand. ‘It’s okay. You don’t need to be ashamed.’

  ‘I’m not, I just…’

  ‘No, Jackson.’ Hannah cuts Jackson off. ‘I know that look. There is something on your mind, and I can see it. All I ask is that you be honest with me, and in return I’ll be there for you.’

  ‘I can’t, Hannah. I can’t be honest at this moment.’

  ‘Is it because it will hurt me?’

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  Jackson turns away and nods, broken to admit the thing that caused him grief. He opened his mouth to reveal what he was going to do, but no words escaped his lips.

  Hannah pulled Jackson’s hand close and rested it on her lap. Soiling her white dress with the blood that clung to his hand. Her thumb rubbed against the back of his hand to provide him with some comfort, ignoring that with every rub, more blood and grim spread onto her hand.

  ‘Love, please look at me.’ She requested

  He refused to do that, not wanting to look at the woman he had betrayed in his own mind. However, he relented and turned to face a calm woman smiling back at him. The reptile expected to see her hurt, frustrated, or disgusted. Yet, she smiled. Not giving him a judging look, but reassurance.

  ‘I missed that face of yours.’ Hannah said before reaching out to caress the side of Jackson’s face. Finding warmth in her touch, he leaned into it and closed his eyes. Soothing himself in her presence and calm.

  ‘I miss those eyes,’ she continued. ‘And I miss that smile of yours. I always find them to be the most remarkable thing in the world, despite what is seen on the surface. There will always be a great person underneath.’ Her calm voice becomes heavier as Jackson slowly opens his eyes. ‘But you can’t do this to yourself. This is not the way to do it.’

  ‘I have to,’ he replied bitterly. ‘I have to do it.’

  ‘No, Jackson, you don’t. This revenge is not something our daughter or I would want. You shouldn’t do this to yourself because no one brought us justice.’

  ‘I have to.’ Jackson repeated, his voice soft, as if to say he was hiding something deeper.

  Hannah frowned, pulling herself close to her lover to give him warmth. ‘Then tell me why. Help me understand.’

  Those words caused him to choke. He bit down hard, trying to keep his face from cracking. In the end, he reached for Hannah’s hand on his face and pulled it away from him while he cried a single tear. ‘I’m not doing this for you, or Jenny,’ Jackson revealed, his voice cracking under the pressure. ‘This is for me. I want revenge for myself.’

  ‘Even if it hurts you?’

  ‘I want it to hurt. I want them to send everything and everyone after me. That every soldier, merc, tank, whatever, will come after me and make me hurt and put up a fight. I want to kill the people who took you two away from me. To make those suffer while they put up a fight against me! Just so I can give them all a chance for them to stop me so I can be with you.’

  ‘That is wrong, Jackson.’ Hannah pointed out. ‘You can’t force yourself to become the thing you despise the most. Nor should you be the very thing you spent so much time avoiding. What I want is for you to be happy, to smile no matter what happened and to be forgiving. I want you to be the man I fell in love with.’

  ‘No. I can’t be that man anymore.’ Jackson croaked. ‘There has to be justice for what they have done to our friends. To you! They have to answer for what they have done, and I am the only person who can do it. The only one capable of making them know what they have done to me! I have to kill them. I must kill them! Then… then I can stop it all.’

  Hannah’s face soured, understanding what Jackson meant by what he said. ‘Murder erodes the soul, Jackson. The more you do it, the heavier your heart becomes. You need to stop.’

  ‘I’ll stop when this is all over.’ Jackson stood up, slowly walking away from her with each step becoming heavier than the last. ‘I will do what needs to be done, and after that. Hopefully, we can reunite.’