Monsters

There is something terribly wrong. I think I'm waking from a bad dream, but am still in that place where reality and nightmare haven't quite separated, and I can't find my way through the haze. I listen for the sounds of an intruder, any sign of real danger, and I hear nothing. But I know it's there. I feel it all around me.
Fully awake now, I search for the source of my fears, and I sense that it's coming from Wendy's room down the hall. She's sleeping soundly as only a child can, and yet I know she's in danger. I know she needs my protection. There is an aura of pure evil emanating from her bedroom.

I can't move; can't go to her. I am a mother so trapped in fear that I am too paralyzed to protect my own child. My husband sleeps beside me. He is the head of our family, the strength of our tiny world. I worship that strength, trust that protection. I reach for him in the dark and with a trembling hand touch his back softly. Just the feel of him brings me comfort, a sense of reality and well being. Nothing can be wrong if he is there beside me. He would never let anything or anyone harm us.
The monsters are only in my head. I drift back to sleep.

One year later I awaken alone in my bed to the screams of a terrified child trapped in another nightmare. I run to her without hesitation. I am no longer afraid of the evil that lives in the darkness of our home. I've discovered that reality is much scarier than nightmare. The truth is, children can't always be kept safe. People aren't always who they seem to be. The monsters aren't always in your head or under the bed. Sometimes they are right beside you.