Drowning in complacency

The monsters aren’t under the bed anymore.

In the kitchen as I do the dishes. Foam, soap, water, on the plates and spoons, on the sufurias, in the sink. Scrubbing, rinsing, over and over again. The drain drinks it all up. Music plays. Mind, somewhere else. I don’t even notice. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, a slow dimming. As the sun is robbed, darkness takes over. Till all I know is darkness. In that split second all my fears are realized. It’s cold. It’s lonely. The hairs on the back of my neck stand still, at attention, I sense a presence behind me. I whip around…and see nothing. Water from the tap keeps flowing, and I keep washing.

A pair of yellow eyes stare at me while I organize my closet. They peep on the edge of my open door, unblinking, burning a hole in the woodgrain. I only notice when I turn to put back a shirt on the hanger. In my motion, I move past a massive well of blackness. Too big, too close to be confused for just another piece of clothing or a blinking or a mistake. I see the eyes only for a second. Or do I? I see a face but not long enough to make out its features. Or do I? My fright, taken away by an ocean of confusion and complacency, I pick up another piece of clothing and hang it up.

The darkness flows me into the night. As I lay in bed, I feel like I’m being watched. My heart beat quickens in fear, yet I just lay there. It’s not real if I don’t see it. But the eyes…they just stay there, unmoving, unblinking, unbreathing. My consternation keeps me on the border between sleep and wake, and this state only furthers my confusion. Am I hearing things? Am I seeing things? But the eyes never let up. When the first ray of sunshine comes into the room, they’re still there. When I’m forced to make my first turn, they scurry past me. In their wake, blood stains on my pillows. I turn around and fall asleep, drowning in complacency.