I never truly understood how difficult it was to sleep with a monster living under your bed.

The footsteps, growing ever louder and more intense each moment, as they would pave their way into my head.

You had friends; big men in big coats or little women with big voices; always accompanied by that sickeningly blue light.

It was like the pop of a balloon, but nobody smiled and there was no way anybody would inflate a new one.

Inflate you.

It was like a dog; one of the big ones that you knew I was intimidated by, but at least their bark truly was worse than their bite.

Your bark and your bite were one and the same.

Even still I hear you when I'm trying to get on with life and somebody drops a glass, but where was the sweeping brush that could clean up your mess?

Naturally, we couldn't shake you. There wasn't a mark on my body that I could use against you.

Not on my body.

There were children. They were children, forced to grow up too quickly at the hands of a cruel master.

Power is a delicate thing that I tried so desperately to hold as a shield, but how could my paper shield be put against your silver sword?

It's funny how things change, and how they don't.

It's funny how you can sit and laugh and make me wonder what if the monster comes back.

It's funny how I wake up in the morning and wonder; am I allowed to live today?