Before I turned sixteen, he was my master.
When I turned sixteen, he became my husband.
Boo-hoo, he’s an old monster, unchanged for decades.
He says I’m the real monster.
I’m neither as monstrous nor as refined as he is.
And now I’m pregnant with his little monster.
Good grief, living in a nest full of monsters is too awful for words.
Come on, the narrative is fun. Author's reply: Thank you for your encouragement!