Marta the Monster
No one in the family knew what this monster was doing, she was always playing the victim. This was her weapon of manipulation. This brainless familia never even thought about what could be hidden in the background. Marta ruled everyone with an iron fist and had her favorites. She gave the appearance to everyone that she was someone. Some she bought with stolen goods to seem generous, others received money. She created a kind of dependency where she stood at the center. Anyone who dared to oppose her faced punishment. She turned everyone against those people, and sometimes fatal events occurred. She built up a false facade that was full of crime, manipulation, brainwashing, and lies. Today, most people know how adults can be; it’s not a closed world we live in. Marta’s weakness is her own fear, of being exposed. In reality, Marta was what’s called a ‘proli’ from before, lacking talent and style. Her language use was beyond criticism.
Janos was an ordinary and harmless worker she was married to. In other words, my stepfather. She tore apart Janos completely and his daughter and me too for two decades. However, she protected her younger son. He was probably a love child, I wasn’t. She made Janos go on theft tours every Wednesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday with us. Notoriously and methodically, she created her theft factory. We had no choice. She held us in an iron grip with manipulation and threats of various kinds. We lived in fear. Later, Janos ended up in intensive care with severe poisoning. She wanted me to poison and kill him first. Of course I refused and then I was chased away from the family home. I never returned. She poisoned Janos. The police visited me a couple of times to get me to testify but I didn’t dare, which I deeply regret from today’s perspective. Janos was not her first victim, several have died but luckily, Janos survived and is still alive today but that is another story.
Janos and the woman went their separate ways after being married for several years. I was living my life a few miles away, prepared for a quiet end of the year. One evening, I heard a persistent knocking on the door. When I opened it, the woman was there with her youngest son. I was well aware that she was a monster.
She forced her way in with a bad and hysterical energy, making me feel confused and overwhelmed. In her hysteria, she told me about how her ex had betrayed her. Originally, he was supposed to take her to her home country to visit relatives, but he had backed out. In hindsight, I am convinced it was the right decision on his part. She had subjected him to an intense form of brainwashing as well. I had witnessed much of her behavior over the years. Unfortunately, I was so young then that I allowed myself to be manipulated, drawn by the possibility of finally receiving her recognition and love. But it didn’t turn out that way.
I had actually planned a trip on my own, but she forced me to abandon my plans and persuaded me to use my travel money to buy a car. I flipped through a newspaper and called around to different ads until I finally found a cheap car in the same city and bought it, even though I didn’t even have a driver’s license. That night, I drove the car home, completely unaware that it was prohibited from being driven, something I didn’t understand because the car was still rolling. It was the same night that I had my first driving lesson, and it was in the forest, in the middle of the darkness.
The next day, we inspected the car carefully and made a shocking discovery: it was so rusty that parts of the door were about to come off. To temporarily fix the problem, I used plastic padding to reattach the parts. But to be on the safe side and to get a professional assessment, I drove the car to the local garage. There, I was met with serious warnings from the mechanics. They explained that I shouldn’t even have driven the car to the next town, as the drive shaft was so worn out that it posed a serious risk of an accident. Additionally, they informed me that the car was off the road with a prohibition on driving and that there were unpaid taxes on it, which explained why the previous owner had sold it at an affordable price.
I drove home the wreck-like car, convinced that the woman would realize its condition when she saw it with her own eyes. But to my surprise, she insisted that the car was in excellent condition and fully roadworthy. That same night, she sent me and her younger son out with a command filled with illegality and desperation: to steal a tax stamp from another car’s license plate.
Reluctantly and with a sense of discomfort, we obeyed her order. Armed with a razor blade, we ventured out into the night and skillfully removed the tax stamp from an innocent car to then, in an act of moral decay, attach it to our own scrap car. This act of criminal manipulation weighed heavily on my conscience and reinforced the feeling of being trapped in a destructive and unsustainable relationship.
But the challenges continued to pile up. The next obstacle was to fit all the woman’s suitcases into the already overloaded car. The task seemed impossible, but I proved to be adept at organizing and utilizing every available centimeter of luggage space. Despite my efforts, a discussion arose regarding my own luggage, and I was quickly forced to sacrifice most of it to make room for the woman’s belongings.
It was obvious that her suitcases not only contained personal belongings but also stolen goods, something she intended to impress her relatives with. For her, these stolen items were not only an act of self-interest but also an opportunity to try to win admiration and respect from her family. The moral compass had long been lost, and I found myself stuck in a situation where I was forced to act while my own values and principles clashed with the destructive influence of the woman I had once loved.
Despite the immense resistance, I managed to fit all the luggage into the car. The luggage compartment was so full that I could barely close it; the lid bent up under the pressure from all the packing. A large bag lay by the gear lever, and of course, it was also packed on the floor by the passenger seat and in the rear window. It was impossible to see out of the rear window, and every inch of space was filled to the brim.
In addition to the woman, whom I could no longer call my partner but rather the burden she had become, and her younger son, my then-woman would also join us. Three people, besides myself, in a car that was already a dangerous combination of overloaded and improperly equipped with slick summer tires in the middle of winter. The woman had a driver’s license, but for some reason, it was I who got the unpleasant task of driving the entire party to our destination.
The journey would stretch over 1350 kilometers and involve 22 intense hours through mountains, snow, and ice. We started driving late at night to catch the night ferry in Trelleborg, a final challenge on an already difficult journey. My nervousness and stress levels reached new heights as I navigated the overloaded car through the darkness.
The roads were slippery, and the speed limit seemed like an unattainable goal. I had to fight to keep the car on the road and constantly adjust my speed to the treacherous conditions. The woman, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the dangers, chatting away as if we were on a leisurely Sunday drive. Her carelessness only added to my anxiety, and I silently cursed myself for allowing her to manipulate me into this situation.
Despite my fears, we made it to Trelleborg just in time to catch the ferry. I breathed a sigh of relief as we boarded the boat, grateful for a moment of respite from the tension of the journey. Little did I know that the worst was yet to come.
Police showed up at my door and demanded my driver’s license, which unfortunately I lacked. It wasn’t the first time I felt on the verge of despair because of this woman. The police asked us to step out of the car, and instead of cooperating, the woman immediately initiated an aggressive confrontation with them. She lied and even claimed she was pregnant to try to sway the police in her favor.
The police placed me in their car for a check while they removed the rear license plate as evidence. I was found guilty of driving without a license and tampering with the plate, making my already difficult situation even worse. Being reported to the police just days before Christmas was not at all how I had envisioned the upcoming weekend. The feeling of being depressed and crushed was overwhelming, and my zest for life felt extinguished.
The adult monster continued to manipulate and exploit me in every possible way. Despite having a driver’s license, she refused to take responsibility for the situation and instead tried to shift blame and even attempted to take over the wheel again, despite me already being reported to the police. I was the one who had to bear the brunt of her actions and carry the burden of the consequences.
After we were released, she took over driving with a police escort to the ferry, and then it was once again my turn to drive the car when we reached Germany. The car was overloaded, and the pressure on it was so heavy that the undercarriage repeatedly hit the road, with the springs completely worn out. But the ruthless monster cared only about one thing – to appear as a star in front of her relatives and enjoy their jealous faces.
Despite the dangerous situation and the palpable risk of an accident, her focus was only on impressing and putting herself in the spotlight. It was as if she didn’t care about the potential dangers or the consequences of her actions, as long as she could get the validation and attention she desperately sought.
As we settled into our cramped cabin for the night, I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that hung over me like a dark cloud. I knew that once we arrived at our destination, I would have to confront the reality of my situation and find the strength to break free from the toxic relationship that had consumed me for so long. But for now, all I could do was close my eyes and try to find a moment of peace amidst the chaos.
I managed to keep the car on the road without major issues, but my nerves were stretched like strings on a violin. The fear of a potential accident was constantly present, like a dark shadow over us. Every attempt to express my concern or complain about the situation was met with degrading words and deafening screams from the woman.
As we approached the border to the Czech Republic, we found ourselves in a eerie environment in the middle of the night, surrounded by dark mountain ranges where nothing but silence seemed to exist. Suddenly, as I drove up along a mountain pass, the car began to slowly slide backward on the slippery road. I felt panic rising within me, but I dared not express my fear. With a pounding heart and shaking hands, I managed to maintain a certain determination. Finally, through a struggle against gravity, I managed to slowly stop the slide by jumping out of the car and pushing it upward with all my strength.
The stingy woman didn’t even offer a moment of rest on the road, and I only got the chance to doze off twice, each time for two hours, during the exhausting journey in the cold car. No one could move because of the overloaded cabin in the car. As we approached a Czech town, I was met by a thick blanket of snow that enveloped the city in the silence of midnight. The streets were deserted and abandoned, and it felt like I was driving through a ghost town, trapped by the grip of winter. Exhausted, disoriented by the snow, and embraced by the darkness, it was barely possible to discern the way forward. I was so close to driving into the ditch that my heart almost stopped, but at the last moment, I managed to press the brake. With nothing more to give, I screamed that I refused to continue driving. My nerves gave up.
The woman, in her usual pattern, directed further insults at me as she stepped out of the car and clarified that she would knock on someone’s door and sleep there. She, Marta from Sweden, had deluded herself into thinking she owned everything and everyone around her. She trudged through the snow like an inflated turkey. She abandoned the three of us in the car to our fate. We shouted after her that you can’t just knock on strangers’ doors in the middle of the night and invite yourself in. After a while, she realized her insane act and returned to the car. I was once again forced to sit behind the wheel and continue the painful journey towards our destination, where the second act of this nightmare would begin.
We were heading to a ten-story building. Her brother and his family lived on the second floor, while my then-woman’s family, whom we were visiting, lived on the tenth floor. I was really looking forward to some much-needed rest. Upon our arrival, we were warmly welcomed, and everything seemed to go smoothly. One evening, just before Christmas Eve, we heard a knock on the door. There stood the woman and her younger son with the same hysterical expressions as when they visited me at home. She cried and complained that they had been kicked out of the relatives’ home because she had forgotten some red shoes as a gift. As if this wasn’t enough, they had brought along lots of suitcases filled with stolen items, but this didn’t seem to bother them much.
She invited herself in and immediately made herself at home. Unfortunately, it seemed like her presence never ended. I did everything I could to avoid her and tried to stay away in a small room. But every time I was forced to leave the room, whether it was to go to the bathroom or for other basic needs, I encountered her and was subjected to her loud and offensive insults. Eventually, it became too much for me, and I broke away. I sought refuge in an open hostel, where I turned off the lamp in the room and sat in the darkness, listening to the murmur of the city. I finally allowed myself a moment of peace, away from the toxic presence of the woman who had tormented me for far too long.
But even in the quiet darkness of the hostel, I couldn’t escape the memories of the nightmare journey we had just endured together. The fear, the exhaustion, and the constant feeling of being on the edge of disaster haunted me like ghosts in the night. And as I sat alone in the darkness, I couldn’t help but wonder when this nightmare would finally come to an end, and if I would ever be able to find peace again.
Once, my ex came to visit me at the shabby hostel. It seemed like the intention was to lure me back into their company. They needed someone who could serve them by driving them to a restaurant they had rented outside the city. I reluctantly agreed, without much hope that it would end well. For them, it was mostly about saving on taxi costs.
When we arrived at the apartment, I was greeted by the company. No one bothered to ask how I was doing. Instead, they pretended as if nothing had happened. The hostess had her work colleague present, who was joining us to celebrate New Year’s. Despite everything, I bit my tongue and tried to pretend everything was fine.
Suddenly, the woman erupted in hatred and insulted me in front of the whole company. Her voice was filled with contempt as she shouted that I looked like a fool in my suit and shirt. This happened while her other son, who was dressed casually, looked on. My concern for my appearance seemed to trigger her and stir jealousy. Everyone else in the company was dressed up, as we were going to celebrate New Year’s at a venue. Her hatred towards me was so palpable that I no longer wanted to be in their presence.
I set off with the first cargo, driving twenty kilometers to the restaurant and then another twenty kilometers back. After completing the second round, there was yet another cargo, the last for the day. Internally, I felt incredibly low. The thought of the police’s reaction when I returned home hung over me like a dark cloud. Moreover, I was aware that the car, already in poor condition, could give up at any moment, potentially leading to a serious accident. I was also worried that others’ lives depended on me and my ability to handle the situation.
The final company consisted of the woman, a true monster, my ex’s mother, her work colleague, and of course, my ex. We went down in the elevator and got into the car. But it didn’t take long before we encountered problems. After just 10 meters of driving, we reached a curb at the exit from the parking lot behind the house. The car’s suspension was in such poor condition that the undercarriage hit the ground, and half of the exhaust system crashed down with a loud noise. I stopped and got out of the car to inspect the damage. I tried to detach the hanging part, but it was stuck with a bracket. In the process, I got dirty and frustrated. I screamed in frustration and despair. The monster took the opportunity to further humiliate me by screaming back and insulting me.
She seized every opportunity to push me down. But in the midst of it all, it warmed me that the work colleague of my ex’s mother came to my defense. She tried to put a stop to the monster’s outburst of hatred towards me and pointed out that anyone could become upset in such a situation. She didn’t even know the rest of the story about how this monster had mistreated me.
Finally, I managed to pry loose the hanging part. But the problems were not over. After a short drive, I noticed that exhaust fumes were seeping into the car. We all became drowsy, and it was clear that there was a danger of carbon monoxide poisoning. Despite this, the others didn’t care about our safety but just wanted to get their way. I had to continue driving, even though it felt uncomfortable to expose us all to this danger. For them, it seemed perfectly fine to take advantage of me and my car without even considering arranging for a taxi. Their stinginess and selfishness knew no bounds.
I drove the car forward without any accidents occurring, even though she had a driver’s license, the cowardly creature refused to take responsibility. When we entered the restaurant and sat down at the long table with perhaps twenty people, I had the misfortune of sitting across from the monster. Despite the tense situation, I tried to keep a good mood and engage in conversation around the table. But I couldn’t help but notice how she stared at me with an intensity that made me uncomfortable. It was as if she was waiting for the slightest mistake to attack me again. I didn’t have to wait long. She burst out and insulted me when I talked to someone. She couldn’t stand to see me doing well. I felt anything but well, but I pretended to be fine. I bowed my head down because I felt my tears starting to flow. Then I stood up and walked away. I sat in the car.
I sat there in the car, surrounded by silence and darkness as the frosty night air crept in through the windows. The memory of her insults echoed in my head, and I felt like a weak shadow of the person I once thought I was. Tears burned in my eyes, but I refused to let them flow in front of the others.
The hours passed slowly, and I found myself caught in a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. I tried to find strength within myself not to completely break down. Midnight approached, and I could hear the laughter and cheers from the people outside the restaurant as they welcomed the new year with fireworks and jubilation. I felt far removed from the festive atmosphere, trapped in my own loneliness.
People began to emerge from the restaurant, the stream of people seeking merriment and companionship. Some of them stopped by my car, kindly but firmly trying to persuade me to return to the party. They knew the truth about the situation, they knew how she treated me, but still, no one seemed to have the courage to stand up to her.
I waited, almost hoped, that she would come out and apologize, that she would show the slightest sign of regret or compassion. But time passed, and she never came. Instead, I was left in the cold darkness with a feeling of betrayal and loneliness that cut deep within me.
As the clock struck midnight and the new year was welcomed with cheers and fireworks, I realized that the reconciliation I had hoped for would not come. A sense of despair swept over me and weighed me down even more. My soul was already wounded by previous events, and the thought of the police report waiting for me when I returned made my heart shrink with anxiety. I had undergone a mental trial that had almost crushed me.
With a heavy burden of sorrow and disappointment, I started the car and left the festivities behind. On the dark road, suddenly two young people appeared along the roadside, hitchhiking. Without hesitation, I stopped and picked them up, and for a brief moment, I was distracted from my own pain as I helped them home.
But when I returned to the road alone, the tears in my eyes did not stop. My vision was blurred with tears as I drove at high speed through the night, not knowing where I was going, only that I needed to get away from all that plagued me. In a weak curve, just when I least expected it, the car’s worn-out drive axle broke, and the accident was a fact.
The car spun wildly and somersaulted at a speed of 140 kilometers per hour before finally crashing into a concrete obelisk at the entrance to the cemetery. There, in the middle of the night and in the darkness, I had no one to turn to for help. Fate seemed to have planned for me to be alone in that moment, without the three other people who had previously filled the car. The cemetery, with its silent witnesses to those who had passed away, was only a few hundred meters away from me, and the streetlights from the city shone in the distance like a distant comfort.
Consciousness came and went like a fog, and it was difficult for me to understand the extent of the accident. At first, I thought I had just driven into the ditch. But after a while, I realized that the car was upside down, and that’s when I started to feel the pain. Blood was flowing from my head, and I was trapped in the back seat. The engine had penetrated into the driver’s cabin and pressed me against the front seat. One of my legs got caught between the engine and the gearbox. With effort, I managed to free my legs and tried to crawl out of the car, but the roof was crushed and made it almost impossible.
How I eventually managed to get out of the wreck was understood by neither me, the tow truck driver, nor the police the day after. I was bruised and confused as I began to trudge towards the city to ask for help. Dizzy and trembling, I walked in the middle of the road, in a state of shock. Before I even reached the first house, a car came from the direction I came from. It was the innkeeper from Koronco, on his way home after his New Year’s job. With outstretched arms, I tried to stop the car in the middle of the road. I was in a state of total shock and confusion. He stopped and later said that he had planned to stop anyway because he had seen the accident scene a few hundred meters away. He drove me to the hospital and stayed with me despite my protests. I gave him all the money and belongings I had on me, insisting that he should take them. I pointed out that I could have died, and it would make it easier for me if he took them. Reluctantly, he finally accepted. Before he left, he asked if he should contact anyone for me. I gave him the address to the ten-story building where I had been before the accident.
After a few hours, my ex arrived at the hospital. She told me that the man had come and informed them about the accident. She shared that the woman and my brother had just ignored it and continued sleeping.
The next day, I was released from the hospital. I miraculously survived the accident, but I was severely swollen on my head and body. They didn’t want to release me because they said the brain could swell, but I was allowed to leave after signing that it was at my own risk. My ex met me, and we went to the ten-story building. Outside the building, we were met by the woman. She seemed almost exploding with hatred and threatened me that something would happen. I was met by cold and unpleasant people up in the shabby apartment.
After half an hour, the door to the room where I was resting was torn open. She rushed in screaming, and I stood up. She raised her arm to hit me on the head. I grabbed her wrist and slowly pushed it down. I whispered to her seriously not to try because it would be the last thing she would do. I let her go. She knew it wasn’t worth projecting her dark soul onto me anymore. It was the only choice she made right.
Afterwards, my ex started talking, and she said that the monster’s gold had disappeared. They accused me of stealing it. For several years, I was accused until the truth came out. Her gold was stolen by her former colleague’s son when she visited them after the restaurant, they lived in the same town as the party was held. Of course, she was recklessly drunk and bragged about how much gold she had. The guy got caught when he tried to pawn the gold. I never received any apology from these despicable lowlifes and cowardly people. If demons exist? They are everywhere around us in the same guise as the rest of us.
