Victor fails his creation by recoiling from it in horror and being unable to love it once it comes to life. He realizes too late that in his pride, his desire to emulate the divine, he has made a mistake.
Yet his mistake lives. As a living creature, a species of a human, the monster craves the love of his creator and the love of other human beings. Nevertheless, the horrified Victor abandons his creation.
Victor compounds that first wrong by agreeing to make a female companion for his monster, and then destroying that female creation, fearing it will be more evil than the first monster and that a race of monsters will be born. At this point, betrayed and abandoned, the monster vows revenge, wanting to hurt his creator the way he has been hurt.
Escaping to the solitude of the Arctic, the monster, discovered by Frankenstein, speaks to him in poignant terms. It is difficult not to sympathize with his lonely plight:
Believe me, Frankenstein: I was benevolent; my soul glowed with love and humanity: but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my creator, abhor me; what hope can I gather from your fellow-creatures, who owe me nothing? They spurn and hate me. The desert mountains and dreary glaciers are my refuge.