48

The monster from my childhood stands over my bed like a shadow. A boogieman. He’s finally coming for me. Blood roars in my ears and my heartbeat catches on an irregular, sick rhythm. Thump. Th-thump… Thump... I screw my lids shut and cover my ears with both my hands. This is a dream. It’s all in my head. The boogieman isn’t real. The monster isn’t real. No matter how much I chant that, it doesn’t stop the voices from filtering through my high-built fortress. Murmurs. Haunted moans. Pained whimpers. Heavy footsteps come closer and closer, suffocating me like a vice. “Hush little baby, don’t you cry...” No. I place both hands on my ears, trying to suffocate the haunting sound. I hate that song. I hate the way she sings it with that manic humming and them monsters in her eyes. “...everything is going to be alright…” NO! “Mama’s gonna buy you a little toy… and if that toy doesn’t work, Mama will bring you another one...” No, no, no... “You’ll never escape me, Elsa.” “You’re my masterpiece,