Photo by Marloes Hilckmann on Unsplash
Photo by Marloes Hilckmann on Unsplash

By SOPHIA JOHNSON

Stuck in this chilling, asphyxiated place I call my own. My home. My home alone with him and only him. Tears too heavy to carry, dripping on my shirt as I try to fade-away the horrors that became, my afternoon. A cold chill raced up my spine as the plain, stark bedroom door creaked open. My bones trembling, my heart beating faster and faster, and faster, my brain, fearful of the future that awaits me. I knew it meant only one thing. The monster under the bed came back. Showing this “love” he has for me. The monster of darkness crept into my oh, so safe haven. His dark, vile eyes stared into whatever soul I had left. His raven sharp claws waved in the air as a cold, gruesome whip struck my side. Blood gushing as if it was trying to escape the monster, just as I was. Repeated again, and again, and again. Each nail clawing, thrashing, tearing a different spot of my broken, fractured body, as I curled up into a ball, horrified, alone. I thought that by trying to hide from the monster, it would vanish, retreat to its den of stone-cold booze, and its soulless eyes glued to night classic baseball games. Yet it never left, It never disappeared. I stared into the eyes of the being, screeching “ I wasn’t bad!” at the top of my lungs. “I wasn’t bad”. The monster under the bed stopped. Tilting its head ever so slowly, his facial expressions puzzled, confused. As if I don’t need to be in trouble to be “ loved”. The being whispered in my ear with its crackling voice, lingering of cigars and bud light. You will always be daddies little girl and I will never, ever stop loving you, I promise. As the being gazed at my stoic, blank eyes, it creepily vanished, leaving me torn, shattered. The monster under my bed, my father, slowly stepped outside of my safe haven. I felt as if a wet, soggy blanket lifted off of my shoulders, as my breath was gradually restored in my bloody lungs. “He is just unhappy”. “He is just unhappy”, I muttered the same words every day as my father left the room. I knew he would come back, again, and again, and again. I was stuck at home, with this monster under my bed who haunted my dreams, slowly turning them into nightmares. He is my father, just saddened by the lockdown. Just saddened by being isolated in this home as I was. Just sad. Though I thought, when has he ever been happy?