Like most monsters, I hid either under her bed or in the closet. Not to scare her, of course, but look after her. And her father could never know I exist. Instead, when her father weren't around, I helped her with her homework, combed her hair, read to her, you know, that sort of thing. I loved her, I cared for her, like a mother should. I wasn't her mother, though, no matter how much either of us wished.
Monsters like me were not supposed to interact with their assigned child, but, like most monsters, I didn't listen. I had an excuse; this child lost her mother at a young age and her father was depressed and rarely ever home. She needed a parental figure
By the time she was four, she was used to my appearance and didn't scream at the sight of me, like most humans would. She didn't flinch when I grinned at her, my dark lips pulling into a wide smile, showing my sharp white teeth. She didn't run away screaming when I walked into a room, my shadowy figure bringing a sense of fear and darkness with me without taking the light. She would always run into my arms after a long day, rambling on about whose party she got invited to and how Erin went off on Marley for taking her markers and whatnot, not even bothered by the slightest by the cold my body gave off.
She would always tell me about what was going on with her friends or in the outside world, knowing that I could not go out myself. She loved sharing stories about her day, and I always listened. I was glad she was happy, glad she had fun, glad that she likes spending time with her friends. That was the hardest thing about it, she would say, not being able to tell anyone about me. I knew she wanted to, but I also knew that she knew the rules.
Every night when I tucked her into bed, she would always tell me she loved me, that she doesn't view me like the other kids would.
"I love you, too, sweetie." I whisper, kissing her head."And I would hate for anything to ever happen to you."
Every day I worried about her. Every day I would sigh in relief as she rounded the corner, skipping and singing an old nursery rhyme, a huge smile plastered on her face.
Until one day, she never came home.
YOU ARE READING
The Monsters Under Your Bed
General FictionIt is quite common for young children to complain about the "monster" under their beds, but never have their parents ever actually seen these creatures and so they blamed it on the child's imagination. But what if the children weren't making it up...
