Nyctophobia

Everyone has a fear, be it the common ones, be it ghosts or bugs,or the more... strange. No matter who you are or what you do, there's always something that makes you want to run, and hide. For most of us, fears are irrational. A spectral hand won't pull you to the depths of hell. No tarantula wants to make you its next meal. These fears are improbable, or, usually, just downright impossible. Most fears give in, or, at the very least ease up, letting a person live their lives without worry. Emily’s fear is different.

Her fear creeps into her mind in the morning as the sun rises and the light crawls across her face through the window. Her fear sits idly at her desk as she absentmindedly scribbles in her notes. Her fear sleeps in her books as she walks home, growing restless as her steps become slower. Her fear rises, quickly and sudden, as her keys turn in the lock. Her fear doesn't subside as she waves hello to her mother who's happily teaching her younger sister how to cook. Her fears deepen as she sits down and bows her head at the dinner table. And as day turns to night, her fears become reality.

You see, Emily isn't afraid of spiders or ghosts. She isn't afraid of heights or tight spaces. To put it simply:

Emily is afraid of the dark.

There’s a  monster in her home. A real monster. It doesn’t have horns or jagged teeth. Emily's monster is a terrible beast with blonde hair and brown eyes. It doesn’t smell of brimstone and fire. It smells of cheap alcohol and whiskey. It doesn't sleep under her bed or in her closet. It sleeps down the hall, only two doors away.

Most nights, it comes clumsily trudging up the stairs, a certain, supernatural thud in it's steps. In the early days, Emily would lock her door when she heard those thundering booms approaching. Since then, the monster has convinced her mother that the lock was unnecessary and only lets Emily hide things from them. Her mother was sensible most days, and even fought against the creature's wishes at first. Some days though, it could be very persuasive. 

Sometimes, Emily found, if she pretended to have a nightmare, the creature would leave. This didn't work often, especially now that her mother was working night shifts. Her mother didn't see the monster as a terrifying creature, but rather a bright eyed guardian. It was this trust that her mother placed in the beast that kept Emily from revealing his true nature. Would her mother even believe her? Or in some strange, twisted way, would this only give the monster more reason to be near her? She had heard the stories before. Of monsters like hers who had gotten their way for so long. 

Nevertheless, she'd rather imagine a nightmare than live through one. Her door creaked and the television light from downstairs seeped inside. Just enough that Emily could see, through squinted eyes, the monster leaning against her door frame. The first time it had entered her room like this, Emily was nearly six. She had real nightmares then. Nightmares of creepy skeletons and weird two headed beetles. She woke up that night, crying, and heard the steps that she now dreads. She watched as it opened her door and stumbled to her bed. The facade it wore brought her into a safe place. She sees through it now.

Emily thrashed a little under her blankets, as if she had been witnessing something horrible in her mind. She knew that tonight, like most nights, would be no different, but she wasn't going to give in to the creature so easily. Tonight, somehow, someway, she was going to stop the beast. She had to stop it.

Heavy thuds, seemingly only audible to Emily, moved across her hardwood floor, bending the wood beneath. It was carpeted once, but she had it since removed after he managed to get to her bed without her waking, only for her to feel its cold, dead fingers against her skin. The creature was always cold at night. Always cold and always calm.

The bed groaned against his terrible weight, giving in to the creature’s body. Emily faced away, the smell too much to bear, the sight even worse. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and pulled the covers tighter against her body. It didn't help, he was already underneath. She had a thought to stand up, to call attention to the beast and reveal his true nature, but there was no one to hear it. No one to believe her. She had tried it once before, when she was ten. By the time her mother had reached the room, the beast was gone, replaced by the watchful guardian standing by her mother's side, convincing them all it had just been a nightmare.

She felt his fingers against her face. Cold. Always so cold. She squeezed her eyes and slid her hand under her pillow. The beast caressed her face with its lifeless hands before tracing down her body. Emily flinched as she felt him slip beneath her shirt. Before, when she was just 13 and her mother had begun buying her "grown-up clothes," as they were deemed by her younger sister, she had been excited, thinking she was finally becoming an adult. If she had known then what the terrible beast had planned, Emily never would have begged her mother to go shopping.

The monster's breath, cold as the beast itself, sent chills down her spine. Her throat became tight as she swallowed her cries. She crossed her legs, hoping that tonight, like some nights, this was as far as he would go. That tonight, like some nights, he would be too tired and fall asleep in her bed. That tonight, like some nights, the nightmare would end and she'd wake up the next morning with him gone. But tonight, she knew, would not be like those nights. It would not be like any night. Tonight, she would stop the monster from attacking her, not just for the night, but forever. Tonight, she was going to face her fear.

Tonight, if she must, she was going to kill the beast.

She waited until the man crawled off the bed and stood up. This was  a ritual for him - dragging his drunken hand across her body before standing and undressing. It was the eye of the storm. A moment's respite before the worst of it crashed upon her. So she waited until she stood up. His hand slipped out of her shirt and the bed moaned against his departure. She heard him curse under his breath as he struggled with his pants. She took a deep breath and wrapped her hand around the plastic handle under her pillow. She had been careful to take a knife from the kitchen after dinner and sneak it up to her room. She took another breath as he laid down on the bed again. This was it. Now or never, she thought. He leaned against her, his cold breath sending a shiver down her spine. His cold, lifeless hand moving across her legs.

"No!" she cried. Slipping the knife from its resting place, she rolled out of the bed and onto the floor. She watched as Sam rose, confused and angry.

"Emily..."

"No, Sam! Y-y-you stay back!" She brandished the knife, pointing it in his direction.

"Now what do you plan on doing with that?" He said, stumbling across the floor. Emily crawled back, pushing herself against a wall, trying in vain to create some distance. He was taller at night, much more frightening. This was a bad idea, she thought, he’s gonna hurt me.

"No more! I said stay back!"

"Now baby girl, why don't you hand me that and you can go back to bed?" With a sudden poise, Sam stood and lunged at Emily, grabbing for the knife. Emily screamed, closed her eyes, and swung furiously. She heard another scream, more guttural and pained than her own. She opened her eyes to see Sam, her monster, the beast that plagued her life, leaning against her dresser, hand over her chest. She saw red leaking from the cut in his shirt. With newfound courage spurred on from his moment of weakness, Emily sought to finish the beast once and for all. She ran at him, charging the knife deep into his chest.

Then everything went black.

When she finally came to, Emily was covered in blood, kneeling beside the monster that once terrorized her life. She felt tears running down her face as she heard her sister scream in fright. Moments later, sirens were heard rushing down the hill. Red and blue flashed outside her bedroom window as paramedics and officers swarmed her home. Her mother and her sister watched in tears as Sam was taken in a body bag and Emily was handcuffed. She didn't care. She was free. It was over. She had done it.

She had slain the beast.