Don't be Afraid

“Don’t be afraid.”

Those were the first words he spoke to me, from inside my closet. If not for the scars I still carry, I might believe I had imagined it all. He didn’t mean to hurt me, that much I have faith in. We were friends, and I hold out faith that one day our paths might cross again.

I had celebrated my ninth birthday a few weeks before we met. After my parent’s divorce, my mother and I moved into my grandparent’s old house. A rickety place that made me feel like I was stepping back in time, whenever I crossed the threshold. My brother was there too, but I didn’t like him. I still don’t. 

One night, after escaping the groping and malicious pinching Trevor always inflicted on me, I barricaded the door of my small bedroom shut, struggling to block the entranceway. The lock on the door was broken, and our mother was away at work. 

I hid in the closet, wrapped in an old crocheted blanket that smelled of mothballs. I didn’t cry. Having learned early on how to hide away in between the pages of books, I always did my best to emulate the strong heroines of my beloved stories. They didn’t cry, so I didn’t either.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said.

Heart beating, I leapt up, searching for the voice that had sounded so close to my ears. I grabbed the dangling pull cord for the closet light bulb, and illuminated the cramped space. My face turned white, and I bit back a scream. There was a monster in my closet.

Tall, and impossibly thin, with a bulbous head he stood there, a mere foot away from me. His long fingers ended in razor sharp nails, and his skin was thick, hidelike. Impossibly black eyes, unblinking stared at me, the tips of his fangs peeking out from narrow lips.

“Don’t be afraid,” he repeated. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Who….what are you?” My words came out in a whispered  tumble.

“I’m a monster. I’m your monster. You aren’t supposed to be able to see me.” He seemed apologetic.

“What do you mean?” Monsters aren't real. I had to be day dreaming. 

“Unhappy children like yourself attract my kind. We stay close, feeding off of your fears. We help you. If we didn’t eat your terror, it might overwhelm you.” He frowned. “We are supposed to be invisible, only glimpsed out of the corner of an eye.”

I wanted to argue and protest that I was a happy child, but the lies weighed heavy on my lips, and I swallowed my protestations down. “How long have you been here?”

“I moved in at the same time you did. I could smell your misery a long way off. Several of us fought over the honor of being your monster, and I won.”

Trevor pounded at my door, shouting undecipherable curses at me. I cringed, slinking further back into my hiding spot. My brother has a known threat, the monster so far had left me alone. 

A smile lit the monster’s face at my fear, and he inhaled deeply, savoring my panic. 

The pounding continued, and abruptly stopped. I risked a glance at the digital alarm clock on my bedside table. Ten fifteen. Trevor must have heard the garage door open, signalling our mother’s arrival home. 

I quickly turned the closet light off, and unblocked my door as quietly, and quickly as I could, breathing fast as I jumped into bed. Seconds later, the door cracked open, the hall light spilling in. I feigned sleep, and after an eternity, my mother shut the door. 

“Good night Madeline,” the monster said.

“Good night monster,” I replied.

Days passed, and everynight I would barricade myself in my room, and sit in the closet, talking with my monster. He told me he didn’t have a name, and that ‘monster’ was as good as any. I did most of the talking. It was summer, and I was new to the area, and friendless. 

Trevor still tormented me, but having someone to talk to helped. Mother never believed me when I had initially tried to tell her about the abuse he inflicted on me. He was good at not leaving marks. I didn’t try too hard. The threats of what he would do to me if I ever told, stilled my tongue. 

Seven years older than me, his sixteen year old tortures had turned more private and intimate in recent times. I learned that if I lay there, and let him do his grunting and rubbing on me, instead of fighting back, it would be over faster. 

“He’s the real monster,” I said one day to my friend.

“A lot of people are monstrous, men and women both. Creatures such as myself wouldn’t have evolved to feed off of suffering if so much of it didn’t exist.”

“You feed off of it, but you don’t cause it though, right?” I was worried. I didn’t know if my friend's presence was the cause of my brother’s actions. 

“We don’t cause it. It’s like how you don’t want to hurt an animal, but you have no problem eating meat. You don’t cause the suffering, but you benefit from it.” He stroked my hair with his clawed fingers.

“I think I understand.” Before I could say anything else, my bedroom door flew open, and Trevor stormed in, yanking the closet door open. He grabbed my ankles, and started to drag me out.

Pain lanced through my shoulders, as my monster gripped me with clawed fingers. “I won’t be here after today,” he whispered, “But this is my way of helping you.”

Confused and in pain, I couldn’t continue to resist as Trevor finished dragging me out of the closet. Triumph turned to horror as he saw the blood seeping out of my ruined shirt. “Oh shit, oh shit,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I passed out. I woke up in the ambulance as it sped to the hospital. My shoulders were on fire. I saw my mother sitting across from me, concern on her face. I found out later, that she had found me in a pool of my own blood when she came home from work, and she had immediately called the paramedics. 

In the hospital, my injuries were treated, and in the course of assessing me, damage was noticed in areas that nine year olds, let alone grown ups shouldn’t have damage. I finally cried, tearfully confessing my brother’s abuse. By injuring me, my monster, my friend allowed me to get out of the hell I’d been living in. 

I’m grown now, and every night before bed, I check my closet, hoping to one day see my monster again, but knowing I won’t. I’m happy now, and because of that, I have nothing that he would want.