It was the loud bang that left the hole in the wall, the thump of the flying vase and the crash of the figure coming in contact with the floor. It was the unapologetic 'I'm sorry', the oh so loving laughter and the slur of a drunken fool. These were the sounds made by the man that called himself my father. The monster that was okay with laying his hand on the one he swore he loved. The monster that damaged my mother forever. The monster that created the sounds forever replaying in the back of my mind. The monster was never under my bed, because he was too afraid to be in the house of that man. The only monster I needed to fear was the one waking me up in the morning, not the one coming out after I was asleep.