Trapped in darkness and stripped of her identity, Twelve is a prisoner of a man who calls himself "Lord." As she clings to the name Mandy, she battles to retain her humanity against a sadistic captor who seeks to break her spirit. Alternating between Mandy's harrowing captivity and her captor's twisted mind, Monster unravels a tale of survival and psychological terror. Will Mandy escape the clutches of this monster, or will she succumb to the nightmare that has consumed her life? "Monster" is a chilling exploration of power, control, and the enduring strength of the human spirit.
Read this in our thriller book club and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. Monster is not a story it’s a psychological descent into the rawest form of human terror. Mandy’s voice, flickering between identity and objecthood, is devastating. I kept putting the book down to breathe, only to pick it up again seconds later. What struck our group the most was Reiter’s fearless, grotesque honesty in rendering trauma. This isn't horror for the sake of horror this is a confrontation with control, survival, and the shattering of humanity. Everyone in the club had a visceral reaction. Some couldn’t finish it. Others read it twice. This is not a book for the faint of heart. But it is essential, especially for those interested in narratives of resistance amid unimaginable cruelty. Mandy’s name isn’t just a rebellion it’s a resurrection.
This is the most disturbing, powerful book I’ve read in a decade. Mandy’s capture and degradation at the hands of Lord is described with unflinching honesty. The dual narration her voice and his makes it unbearable and brilliant. You see not just what she suffers, but how he justifies it. It’s sick. And it’s genius.
What really devastated me was how real Mandy’s resistance felt. She fights by holding onto her name, to the memory of cake smeared birthday parties and her family. That she finds power in laughing mid rape... I broke down. It’s not victory, but it’s defiance, and it’s deeply human.
This isn’t a recommendation so much as a dare: Read this book if you can stomach a mirror turned toward hell and the people who crawl through it with their humanity intact.
This book broke me. Monster isn’t a thriller. It’s a descent into the mind of a woman being erased name, body, and identity by a man who sees her as a number. Mandy’s voice is like static clinging to a broken signal, broadcasting desperation and strength.
Lord is terrifying because he’s not a boogeyman he’s a system, an idea, a worldview. He’s been taught to hate, and he builds a shrine to it in his head. His narration is chilling because it’s so certain, so normalized.
But Mandy? Mandy is a beacon. Her insistence that she is not Twelve is the story’s heartbeat. Every word she remembers of her brother, of laughter, of family is a small rebellion. That’s what makes this book more than horror. It’s resistance fiction.
Our book club picked Monster thinking we were signing up for a dark thriller. What we got instead was a psychological case study in trauma, power, and identity so overwhelming, we had to pause and regroup multiple times during discussion. The group was split some were traumatized, others inspired, all of us stunned. What’s truly terrifying is not the physical violence though it’s horrifying, but the emotional control Lord exerts. He reduces women to numbers objects and yet Mandy fights, not with fists but with the memory of who she was. That fight is worth everything. I don’t think any of us will forget this book. It’s haunting, it’s intelligent, and it’s uncompromising. I’m glad we read it together. I wouldn’t have had the strength alone.
Monster is a gripping psychological thriller that unfolds from the perspectives of both the abuser and the victim. The novel expertly weaves these two viewpoints together, heightening the sense of suspense. While its unsettling content can make for a difficult read at times, it serves the story's purpose. The narrative goes beyond the abduction itself, exploring the profound aftermath and its consequences of the abductee. It also highlights the healing strength of family. Interestingly, it also offers insight into the abductor's perspective, exposing their struggles to reclaim something that has been lost.
Monster is the most haunting book I’ve ever read. It left me shaken and furious. Mandy’s experience being stripped of everything but memory and name is a slow burning tragedy that feels too close to reality for comfort. Reiter’s genius is in the structure: alternating between Mandy’s pain and Lord’s self-justifying madness. You see every layer of her destruction, and his delusion, and yet she fights. Even if it’s just in her mind, she fights. The greatest rebellion in this book isn’t escape it’s survival. It’s laughter. It’s remembering who you are when someone demands you forget. I will never forget Mandy. I hope no one does.
I never imagined a story could disturb me so much while still feeling utterly necessary. Monster is a literary scream a howl of protest against the erasure of women, against captivity, against being renamed into nothingness. There’s so much pain here, but also so much strategy. Mandy’s refusal to eat, to speak, to scream it’s not weakness. It’s tactical. It’s resistance in the form of withholding. It’s a masterclass in psychological survival. And Lord. He’s not just a villain. He’s a system of thought. A worldview. Reiter forces us to listen to him, to hear how hatred justifies itself. That is the real horror. And that is why this book matters.
This was the most difficult book I’ve ever read and I’ve read a lot. Reiter writes trauma with the kind of detail that makes your heart physically ache. This isn’t fiction it’s survival testimony in literary form. What amazes me is how Monster stays grounded in psychological realism. Lord’s twisted beliefs aren’t caricature they’re echoes of real-world hate. That’s what makes him so frightening. And Mandy, She’s extraordinary. Not because she breaks free she doesn’t, but because she refuses to let go of herself. Her name. Her memories. Her family. She holds onto them, and that becomes her revolution.
Monster is not just a psychological thriller it's a raw, bone deep descent into the shattered psyche of survival. Nikki Reiter doesn’t flinch and neither could I. The dual perspectives victim and captor are chillingly intimate, yet masterfully handled. Mandy's struggle to maintain her humanity against the monstrous dehumanization she suffers is both devastating and inspirational. This is a novel about defiance in the face of evil. The strength, the will, the stubborn hope buried in the darkest corners of despair it’s unforgettable. I was gripped, horrified, and profoundly moved. It’s the kind of book that changes you.
Monster is a soul crushing, rage inducing masterpiece. I’ve never read anything so viscerally intimate and so violently real. Mandy, or Twelve, is one of the most harrowingly honest narrators I’ve ever encountered. Her voice never falters, even when her body is breaking. Her repeated insistence. Reiter doesn’t shy away from brutality this book punches you in the face with every chapter. But theres beauty in it, too. Not in the violence, but in the will to remember, to claim identity, and to survive. A triumph of dark literary fiction.
I can’t believe I read this with my club. We were not ready. But I’m glad we didn’t turn away. Monster is trauma, fictionally rendered, with surgical precision. It doesn’t ask for pity. It demands recognition. We were stunned silent after finishing. It made us question how society discusses violence against women how we turn victims into case studies or forget them entirely. Mandy won’t be forgotten. Reiter made sure of that. This is one of the hardest but most important books we’ve ever read as a group.
There’s no way to read Monster passively. It drags you in, binds you, and forces you to sit with the rawest truths about power, identity, and survival. Mandy’s voice is like a candle in a hurricane flickering, but never going out. This novel terrified me, not just for what happens, but for how plausible it feels. Lord’s voice is unhinged, yes, but frighteningly logical in its delusion. Reiter’s brilliance is in how she shows that monsters are made, not born and that resistance is never futile.
I don’t say this lightly, Monster is one of the most psychologically powerful novels I’ve read in years. It’s gutting. It’s terrifying. And it’s absolutely necessary. Mandy’s resistance, even as everything is stripped from her is one of the most courageous portrayals of survival I’ve encountered in fiction. Nikki Reiter doesn’t just tell a story she exposes a mindset, a pathology and the tiny flame of humanity that refuses to be extinguished. This is a must read for anyone who believes fiction can still shake us to our core.
Nikki Reiter has written the kind of novel that makes you physically ill and intellectually furious. Monster tore through me. Mandy is kidnapped, raped, dehumanized and yet never fully broken. That defiance is the novel’s light, dim as it may be.
It’s not entertainment. It’s survival literature. If you want an easy, wrapped up horror tale, look elsewhere. But if you want to see what literary terror looks like at its most human read this.
I started Monster and thought I’d finish it in a day. It took me a week. Every few chapters I had to walk away, breathe, and sometimes cry. Reiter gives voice to the unspoken horror of captivity, rape, and the psychological trauma that follows.
But more than that, she gives voice to the fight. Mandy’s refusal to become Twelve is the drumbeat that kept me turning pages. Her pain is loud but so is her dignity. This book will stay with me forever.
Mandy’s narration is a literary punch to the gut. She’s shattered, yes but not erased. Reiter masterfully captures the internal war of someone who refuses to become less than human in a world that insists she is. The scariest part is how rational Lord sounds. His worldview is monstrous and yet eerily familiar. That’s what chilled me most. The darkness isn’t just in the basement. It’s everywhere.
There’s no easy way to recommend this book. You survive it. You endure it. And if you’re lucky, you emerge changed. The violence is graphic. The psychological manipulation is worse. But it’s all in service of a story about the refusal to be dehumanized. Reiter asks us: What do you cling to when everything is stripped away? I will never forget Mandy. Not her name. Not her courage. And not her fight to laugh in the face of the man who tried to destroy her.
Our feminist horror book club tackled Monster and ended up spending three sessions talking about it. Reiter dissects trauma, misogyny, and control with the precision of a scalpel. Mandy is unforgettable. What surprised us most was how tenderly the memories of her family are written like secret letters she writes to herself while imprisoned. It gave the book a pulse, a humanity, that contrasted starkly with Lord’s psychosis. We all agreed: hardest read, best discussion.
This is not a book. It’s a razor blade between the ribs. It hurt to read. I had to take breaks, walk away, and breathe. But I kept coming back. Mandy’s voice her grief, her rage, her stubborn humanity won’t let you go. Reiter has created a character who survives in the smallest, most powerful ways. By remembering her name. By laughing. By not screaming. I’ve never admired silence so much in a protagonist.
Reiter doesn’t flinch and neither can you. Monster strips away the safety net most thrillers offer. There’s no hero waiting outside the door. There’s only Mandy, in the dark, holding onto her name like it’s the last thread of her soul. I found myself whispering Mandy out loud while reading. It felt like a ritual, like helping her hold on. That’s what this book does it turns readers into silent allies.
I couldn’t sleep after finishing Monster. The scenes kept replaying in my head, especially Mandy's quiet moments of resistance. Her story is one of endurance, of spiritual rebellion when everything physical has been taken. This is one of the most powerful books I’ve read in a long time. I wouldn’t call it empowering but I would call it necessary. It dares to ask: what remains when everything is taken?
I still feel haunted. It’s been a week since I finished Monster and Mandy’s voice is still in my head. Whispering. Repeating her name. Holding on. The layered narration switching between Lord and Mandy is masterful. It gives us a full portrait of dehumanization, from both the victim and the perpetrator. It’s unsettling. It’s genius. This isn’t just a dark story. It’s a necessary one. Reiter pulls no punches, and I thank her for it.
This book completely broke me and rebuilt me. Monster is not for the faint of heart but it’s the kind of story that needs to be told. Reiter captures trauma and resilience in hauntingly lyrical prose. Mandy will stay with me forever. Reiter has created a villain so terrifyingly human that I had to remind myself to breathe. The dual perspectives of Mandy and Lord chilled me to the bone. A disturbing masterpiece. Absolutely unforgettable.
What a brave, terrifying book. I didn’t expect to feel such an emotional connection to a character I had just met but Mandy feels real. The horror is real. Reiter forces you to confront the darkest parts of humanity. But there’s also strength and fight. And that made it beautiful it will make you cry, rage and think long after the last page. Monster explores the psychology of both victim and predator with disturbing precision. It's haunting and unrelenting and absolutely brilliant.
Mandy is not just a character she is a survivor, a fighter, a voice that echoes through every page. I loved her immediately. She is flawed, scared and exhausted but never completely broken. That’s what made this book unforgettable. Monster isn’t easy to read. But it’s impossible to put down. Nikki Reiter has written a novel that forces us to listen, to care and to remember. Absolutely brilliant.
I don’t think I’ve ever cried this much while reading a thriller. Monster ripped my heart out, stitched it back together then ripped it out again. Mandy’s story is excruciating but what got me was her hope her refusal to die inside. Nikki Reiter is a fearless writer. The rawness of the trauma, the chilling logic of Lord and the deeply personal moments made this one of the most emotionally intense books I’ve read. It’s unforgettable in every way.
Monster is an absolute standout! The cover immediately caught my attention dark, bold, and perfectly matched to the story inside. The description drew me in right away, and the book itself delivers exactly what it promises: a gripping, emotional, and hauntingly powerful read. Nikki Reiter has crafted a story that is both thrilling and deeply moving, the kind of book that stays with you long after you finish.
As a member of Between the Lines Book Club, I found Monster to be one of the most intense and haunting reads we’ve discussed. Nikki Reiter delivers a chilling psychological thriller that dives deep into fear, survival, and the resilience of the human spirit.
Mandy’s story is raw and unforgettable, a battle between hope and despair that keeps you holding your breath until the very end. It’s dark, gripping, and impossible to put down.
Monster reminds you what literature is supposed to do disturb, unsettle, question. Nikki Reiter doesn’t write horror for the faint hearted. She writes for the raw nerved.
I’ve never been so shaken by a character’s refusal to die. Mandy holds onto memory like it’s oxygen. The world should never let her go.
Reiter writes with the ferocity of someone who needs you to understand. Monster is not sadism. it’s a scream. Mandy’s resilience is not triumphant in a traditional sense it’s survival against entropy.
And somehow, in that agony, there is still grace. A grace rooted in memory, identity, and the unkillable human spirit.