you lay awake at 1 am.
it's dark outside, obviously, and the fact that it's cold doesn't make it any better.
your legs and feet dig deeper into the blanket you're under, searching for the warmest cranny, but it's no use. there is no warmth left.
your eyes dart to the ceiling of your bedroom. you see the glow and the dark stickers you stuck up there when you were eleven, still as bright as they were the first night.
you're seventeen now. all you want to do is rip them off. you're not a child anymore, or at least you don't feel like a child anymore.
you've grown, and sometimes it kills you. to know that you can never re-do it all and take back the childhood that was stolen from you by your parents.
who left you to live with your aunt when you were twelve.
your loud, unforgivably neglectful aunt, who is really no better than them.
she just makes you feel even more alone than you have any right to be, but there are bigger things to care about in the world, and you got over it years ago.
that was a lie. you never got over it, but who really cares?
you don't. you think to yourself, but you know that's a lie, too.
you get sick of laying in your bed and sit yourself as your eyes shoot around the room in the darkness.
you spot your closet, the posters on your wall, and the polaroids raphael took of you and him hanging out in an abandoned restaurant.
you study the pictures for a second, reliving the memories and emotions in the moment. raphael kicking in the door with his boots, you finding expired meat in the freezer and almost puking from the smell. the way you two spun around in the chairs until you actually felt like you were going to puke.
the best memories you've had in a good while, you're pretty sure.
you're gonna see him tomorrow after school, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't excited to not feel so alone.
you focus your eyes on something else in an attempt to forget about the fact that you're the only person in the room. you see your reflection in the mirror on your wall. has your hair gotten longer? and when did i have that freckle on my finger? was that always-
you hear a noise.
you jump a little, and look frantically around the room. you were kidding when you said that you didn't want to be the only person in the room.
you twist your legs over so that they're hanging off the bed, and lean down to grab a lone sneaker you've left right beside you.
as you let your feet hit the ground, another noise comes out, that sounds an awful lot like a growl. or maybe a giggle?
you clutch the sneaker in your hand, and begin to walking around your room, looking for areas the noise could've come from.
you found nothing under your bed, and it definitely wouldn't be outside of your door, or your aunt would've been up to take care of it by now.
it might be coming from your closet.
you tip-toe carefully, making your way to the closet door, feeling your palms sweating from the experience. in fact, you feel way too warm. it's way too warm in this room now with all these anxiety fantasies going through your head.
your left hand slowly moves its way towards the closet. you start feeling light-headed from even being close to it. you can't just leave it in there though! what if it comes out for you while you're sleeping?
you swallow hard, and turn the knob.
and you're pushed back to the floor rather rudely.
you wince, and use your hands to sit yourself up, but as you look up, you see something looking back at you.
with three eyes.
and four arms.
and a grin.
as wide as the counter at the restaurant.
the smile widens at the sight of you, and attempts to grab for your arms, but you crawl back far enough to reach your bed, doing your best not to scream in case this is a night-terror. you definitely wouldn't want to wake up your aunt at this hour.
the thing growls further at you, and your eyes dart around the room, looking for anything that could take care of this thing, atleast temporarily.
you spot one of the blankets on your bed, in particular your least favorite blanket. you wouldn't feel so bad about losing something like this.
you pick yourself up and rush over to grab it, unraveling it quickly.
the thing roars, and all of a sudden, you throw your blanket on top of it to obscure its line of vision, and push it back into your closet.
you hold the door against it as much as you can, when you can hear what sounds like the growls weakening.
your socks feel wet, and you don't really want to know what it is.
but you have to.
you look down, and find an inky black substance covering your socks.
you're already scared enough of such a thing being in your room. but what is THIS?
you're definitely sure the monster is gone, and when you open the closet door...
the monster is really gone.
but so are the clothes that were in there.
in fact, there's something new in there.
a swirling hole that was leaking the black liquid on your socks.
you're half comforted by the fact that your favorite clothes are somewhere else in your room, but the comfort fails to reach your brain in time.
what are you supposed to do with this in your room?