Somebody made me scared of the dark but I can’t remember who.
I just know he was a monster.
A baby monster in training, I guess.
And I think he stole the night away from me.
Made me so scared the doors always have to be locked, even during the day.
The burglar alarm must always be set and nightlights must guide my way.
He interrupted me while I slept like a vampire hiding from the sun.
Vulnerable and fragile.
If only he’d interrupted me when I had my full power.
I would’ve torn him limb from limb.
But instead he tried to seer my tender flesh when I was weakened and alone.
I couldn’t move but he didn’t care.
I was obliterated but he didn’t care.
His touch was so revolting I threw myself on the floor.
My legs wouldn’t work, so I crawled.
My voice wouldn’t work but I breathed out “No.”
I squirmed on the floor until I reached another room.
But no one was there to help me.
Just me and the baby monster.
I grabbed a blanket and tried to swaddle myself.
Tangle myself up so he couldn’t get to me.
And I think it worked.
I think because he was a baby monster, still training to become a beast, he gave up.
But I’ve never been able to remember.
And it’s haunted me for years.
Did something happen that I can’t recall?
In the dark while I slept?
My memories are only in flashes.
A dark figure in the doorway.
A body behind me.
My crawling on the floor.
After years of self torture, I finally gave myself permission to believe nothing happened.
But somewhere between sleep and wake when I’m in the dark, I’m terrified.
Every noise or creak verifies my fear.
A monster’s coming to hurt me.
To hurt the precious ones I hold most dear.
She told me it’s because my subconscious needs to process trauma.
That it’s no longer a monster to contend with.
But a freight train coming at me.
In the middle of the dark.