It all started out innocently enough. You and your friends, all intellectuals, all politically active young radicals. You just read books and talked about how to make things better, how to make change. You started reading up on John Locke and some other political writers of the Enlightenment, and you thought, why not try them out? So you and you bodies got together and started working. Tom supplied a lot of the ideas, as did Ben and John. They took some old dead ideas, threw in some of their own, stitched them together, and then brought the whole thing to life with something even better than lightning.
The creature came to life, staggering off of the surgical table with all the clumsiness and fear of a newborn. It wasn't a pretty thing by any means, in fact it was quite ugly, but it was innocent, well meaning, and passionate. And for that you all loved it. The creature did great things, inspired others with its ideals. It had the potential to change the world.
But time passed, and your creation began to change. Some of the changes were necessary, such as the alterations done when it was twelve years old. But as time passed, it began to get violent and controlling. It turned away from the idealism and fire of its youth, devolving into a twisted, power obsessed monstrosity.
It took whatever it wanted, its hideous strength making it easy to intimidate others or when it needed to, use force to get what it desired. The creature became paranoid and controlling, suspecting everyone and imposing its rules on everyone. The greed, the violence, the paranoia, and the power hollowed it out, killing the beautiful spirit it was born with. It came to hate the ideas that gave birth to it, and to seek vengeance against the optimists who had helped create it. It became a Monster in both mind and body.
It has only gotten worse since then. Its paranoia drives it to attack anything different, anything that it is unfamiliar with. The Monster has pushed away all of its old friends and allies, those who looked up to it. None of them trust it, and many of them hate it now. In its madness it does not care whether one was friend or foe. The only difference it understands anymore is between a threat and a victim.
It's outlived all of its other creators, all except for you. You were the one who did the most to bring it about, the one who was most responsible for both its birth and its decline. It was your job to keep an eye on it, to make sure that your friend's work was not done in vain. And you failed. So now it haunts your shadow, keeping you caged and afraid. It does not want to kill you, but to control you and make you miserable. The Monster holds you prisoner, never letting you leave the house, never letting you feel safe. You do what you can to try and forget its out there, whether its losing yourself in the routine of work or taking whatever pills will make the fear go away, if only for a while.
But no matter what happens, the Monster is still out there. It'll keep tormenting you forever, until you finally take that step outside of your safe, comforting prison of a home, and face it. On that day, you and the Monster will come to terms, and only one of you will survive it. But until you're willing to take that gamble, to put it all on the line for your freedom, it'll still be out there. Waiting.