[ WP ] But this time , the sunset was more than just the end of the day .

He stares out of the window. 
 Most people board up their windows and doors temporarily this time of year, but he lives in a nice apartment complex that has windows barred year round and high-end doors that `` not even Rasputin could get through!'' 
 He loves watching the sunset, and does so every night. It's so pretty, and so peaceful, and, most importantly, it's something that he knows for a fact someone else– even if it's only one person– is watching, right now. It makes him feel connected to another person. 
 
 Most people will stay in their houses. Not only because of some of the freaks who take advantage of their new, temporary forms and lurk in the shadows, but because your form is a very personal thing. Usually, only your immediate family knows it. 
 Forms vary from person to person greatly. A lot of people call them `` the monsters inside,'' but, the truth is, many of them are n't even monsters. 
 
 His mother's form, for instance: small, weak, incapable of doing anything of its own free will, incapable of making decisions. 
 
 His father's, though, really was a monster. Huge, mean, absolutely terrifying to the weaker people around him. Truly hideous. But he did n't need to see his form to know that. The bruises were enough. 
 
 He hates this time of year. It always brings back horrible memories. Hiding in his room so he would n't have to talk to his father, and then getting in trouble for being a wuss. Telling his father hello when he got home and hit for being annoying. Ignoring his father when he got home and getting punished for not getting out of the way. 
 It took years of therapy to finally accept that it was n't his fault he got hit, that his dad was just messed up, and it will take years more to get rid of his large array of problems. 
 
 He looked in the mirror, hoping to see something this year. 
 Nope, he thought. Invisible. 
 He tried to speak. 
 Nope. Voiceless. Still. 
 
 Maybe next year.
