Week 9 - “Bedtime”
“I can’t sleep,” Your daughter whispers from your doorway.
Half-torn from sleep, you lift your head up from the pillow. You spot the small shape of her there, dragging Mr. Snuffles — a plush rabbit that’s seen better days — behind her.
“C’mere,” You reply, making room for her on the bed. She snuggles right against you. Well, almost. She makes sure Mr. Snuffles has a suitable spot first.
You reach and hold her, feeling your eyes drag. Christ, what time was it? Far too late. It’s nearly pitch black in the room.
“Bad dream?” You ask.
“Uhhuh,” She says, pressing her head against your chest, listening to your heartbeat. “Same one.”
“Mmhh,” You hum sympathetically. “There, everything’s alright. Remember what I told you?”
“There’s no such thing as monsters,” She mumbles, half-convinced.
“And?”
“An’ you’ll keep me safe.”
“That’s right,” You rub her back, reassuring her. “Now try to sleep, hmmhh, kid? Long day tomorrow.”
There’s a long period of silence. But it’s inevitably broken by the shuffling of bedsheets. You run your hand through her hair, attempting to soothe her restlessness. You pray sleep will find the both of you; even a couple hours would do. Except—
“It’s not true,” She eventually says.
“What’s not true?”
“There are monsters,” She mutters. “I can see them. They’re everywhere. Especially at Mr. Silva’s house.”
An amused huff leaves you. The old man down the street was harmless; prickly, sure, but harmless.
“Sweetheart, Mr. Silva he… he means well. He just isn’t great with—”
“It’s not just him, it’s everyone,” Her emphatic rebuttal worries you. “There’s so many.”
“Oh?” You humor her. “Are they here?”
“Not yet.”
“And there won’t be,” You kiss the top of her head. “I promise. I’ll protect you from any monsters, alright? Always.”
“No, you can’t,” Your daughter murmurs, finally settling down for sleep. “But don’t worry, Daddy. I won’t let them ever get you.”
You are left alone with that resound statement. Needless to say, you don’t sleep well that night.
