The Monster

 Staring straight ahead towards my ceiling, I strain my eyes through the thick blanket of shadow covering my bedroom with darkness. The dark never bothered me before, at least not since last December. I turn over studying the red numbers of my alarm clock. Memories flood my mind. The numbers begin to become unfocused and blurry. I wipe the newly developed tears from my eyes, shutting away the past. I don't want to go back to that.

 Shhhh... The creak of the bedroom door opens. With the door now slightly ajar I can see an outline of a tall figure. My mom always consoled me into believing that monsters were mere figments of our imaginations, but this one has visited me many a time. I shiver slightly, dreading my routine of torture.

 The monster crawls behind me, making itself room under the covers of my bed. I can feel a clammy hand slide down my back. The monster's fingers are rough from working all day and night, with rarely a break. I can feel a warm breath cascading down the back of my neck. My hair is now standing on end as goosebumps rise above their concealed grave along my  back. I whimper slightly. I scream at myself in my mind. I promised I would not make a sound. The monster is not supposed to know I'm awake. I quickly give a loud snore to cover up my mistake. It does not suspect.

 I want to cry; scream to the world that this is only a dream. I am only twelve. I am not supposed to believe in the boogeyman or other scary fictional creatures of the prepubescent mind. Then I feel as his palm slides further down. Wake up, I scream to myself. Let him know that you don't believe. Yeah, maybe if I let him know that I know he's there, he will go away. That's what all the stories say. The courage escapes me as the figure slides up, tracing over my young undeveloped body. I give up. There is no fight in me and the monster has won. I begin to stir. This scares the stranger. I feel him quietly exit my comforter, shutting the door gently behind him.

 I toss over, tears running down my cheek. I begin to drift to sleep, going over in my mind what I must have done to deserve such punishment. I heave a final sigh before drifting to sleep. "Good night, Daddy," I whisper into the night just as I close my eyes