[WP]

Staring back at them with googly eyes, he wailed loudly as a sign of his insecurities. He wasn’t still able to trust them. “I want Mommy. I want MOMMY!”

“But, Mommy has gone into the light. Didn’t you remember?” One of the monsters responded as cautiously as possible, noting that it may break the child’s heart further.

In that instance, Tom had a flashback. He saw Mommy laying on the floor with bright red stains on her chin, coughing as she tried to lift her finger to reach out to her son. An unknown man was beside her, breathing profusely as he glared sternly at her. Sensing danger, Tom ran as quickly as his short legs could and hid under the bed where all his forgotten toys surrounded him as disguise. There were heavy multiple thuds which vibrated on the floor. Tom could hear them distinctively as he pressed his ears hard to the ground. A faint shadow approached near him, and Tom held his breath for the longest time, especially when he saw those bloody boots from his view.

“Damn, where did that kid go?” The man was ravaging the room, opening every cabinet doors violently. Since he couldn’t find him, he left swiftly to search other areas. That’s when Tom started to break down internally, crying silently until all lights dimmed out.

Indeed, Mommy has gone into the light. She was gone forever and never would be able to be by his side.

When I was younger, my mama and papa would tell me stories of beasts, princes, and princesses. Of towering castles, and deep dark forests. The tales always accompanied by crudely made sock puppets and terrible voice acting.

I missed those days. I’m not entirely sure when or why they stopped. Just one day papa stopped being part of story time. He would leave for hours on end at night, and come home in the early light of day, smelling like smoke and something else. He would sit on the side of my bed, brushing my hair back and whispering how much he loved me. But soon, those moments stopped too. Papa would be gone for hours, days, then weeks. Coming back stained, bloody, and smelling like the boys change room. Finally, he stopped coming back altogether.

Slowly, my mama, who had always tried to keep up with the magical stories, started to pull back too. She went from being the picture of health and beauty, to some kind of chapped lip, skin, and bone creature. The sores on her face slowly getting worse as time went on.

By this time the only friends I had were the voices coming from my closet and from under my bed. Telling me stories in their own little ways.

I was about ten when I realized something was wrong. Mama stared at the ceiling with glass eyes, I shook and shook her but she just didn’t see me. She didn’t move. She just laid there. By 13 I mastered the art of making a sandwich out of the random things I could find in our small one bedroom apartment.

By 16…well that’s when the worse started to happen. I could handle being called a slut, whore, bitch, and cunt. I could handle the slaps and pulling of my hair, the sting of her belt when it landed on my back. But I couldn’t handle this.

“Sweetie we talked about this” my mama told me, attempting a gentle smile but all I saw were yellowed, broken teeth. “Thomas…Thomas is just going to bring you upstairs. He’s going to…well. You’re just going to let him do what he wants okay?” Her voice came out shaky, her long, boney fingers picking at her face. Her once beautiful blonde hair now balding in some patches.

“Mama I don’t want to do this” I said, my entire body felt on edge as the man looked at me. From behind his thick glasses I could see his yellowing eyes looking me up and down.

My mom grabbed my arm, hard. I gasped from the pain that exploded up my arm. Another bruise for my collection. “Listen you little slut. You’re going to go upstairs and get ready for Thomas!” She pulled me half way up the stairs, pushing me the other half. My knees took the brunt of the fall as I scrambled back up. I ran to the one bedroom we had, the dingy second hand mattress on the old iron bed frame staring at me. Knowing why this was happening. Seeing it so many times when I was younger.

Mama needed her fix. But she was no longer able to get it on her own.

I slumped down against the wooden door. Wrapping my arms around my knees. If papa hadn’t left I would be safe. Suddenly the shadows of my room danced across the floor. Filling the empty space with a large, monster like figure.

As footsteps came up the creaky stairs I cried. The shadow infront of me bending down, “don’t worry. The monsters are here to protect you from your parents. You have nothing to worry about.” The shadow caressed my hair like papa used to. An army joining behind it.

My mama tried the knob, finding it locked shut. She banged against the wood of the door. The thing rattling on its hinges. The man Thomas joining in. I ran to the other side of the room by the window. Every inch of light now snuffed out by the shadows. As the door sprang open with a bang, my mama and Thomas looked at me with wild eyes. But then there was darkness, a shadow blocking the scene in-front of me as wild screams of terror sounded.

I was finally safe.

Young little Robin never had a good life. They were a mistake, and everyone theyhe knew hated them. They had no friends, for they were homeschooled. Their family hated them, for they spanked them and cussed at them at the age of four. It only got worse when they came out as nonbinary at the age of nine. Soon their own family was going to kill them. They only felt comfortable in their room. It had a nice feeling to it. So one day, they hid in their room and locked the doors. They looked everywhere for potential openings. Then, when they were sure they were safe, they hid in the corner of the room and cried. They felt hands comforting them. A soothing voice. "Hush now, young child." It said. "We are here to protect you."

WIth those last words, Robin fell asleep on the floor.

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Most kids fear the idea of monsters under their bed. Not me though; I mean, it's not like they asked to be called monsters, right? So, when my parents turned out the lights and the darkness flooded my bedroom, I chose to talk to the things living under my bed. And they answered.

As time went on, Olive the spider creature and Melody the bat creature became my best friends, even though I never physically saw them. I told them everything: who I liked, what I wanted to be when I grew up, the places I wanted to go. They were there for me every night I went to sleep. And one night, I discovered how deep our bond went.

It was close to midnight and I was staring up at the ceiling as I said, "Are you there?"

"Yes, we're here," Olive answered back.

"Is everything alright? Normally, you talk to us much earlier," Melody added.

"There's... something I need to tell you. And I was scared how you'd react. But, you deserve to know: I... I want to be a girl."

Melody and Olive were silent for all of five seconds before they both responded, "Alright then!"

"You... you guys are okay with this?"

"Of course we are," Melody replied. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"What would you like us to call you, dear?"

"Um, Daisy. I wanna be called Daisy."

"Hello, Daisy," Melody said. "Now go to bed. It's late."

"Okay. Good night guys."

When I woke up the next morning, there was a surprise waiting for me. Hanging off the foot of my bed was a beautiful dress the color of corn silk. Lying next to it was a post-it note with the words 'A pretty girl deserves a pretty dress!' scribbled on it. I actually started to tear up at the gesture.

Over the next few years, Olive and Melody were there for me like they always were, but something was different. When I referred to them as my friends, I felt... guilty. I still liked them and they still liked me, but I couldn't help but feel like I was being reductive in a way. I wanted an answer so badly--and I eventually got one.

I came home from school one day, eager to put on my dress to cheer myself up after a bad day. But that didn't happen. Because sitting in the living room was my parents, with my dress in my mom's hands and both of them staring at me like I'd just tried to smack a puppy. I froze in place and awkwardly said, "Where'd you, uh, get that?"

My dad angrily pointed at me. "It was in your room. Why?"

"It-it's a birthday present for a friend. I was keeping it in my room so she wouldn't find it when--"

My mom shot out of her seat and screamed, "DON'T YOU LIE TO US! We will not let our son fall into this heresy!" My mom then tried to rip my dress in half, prompting me to rush at her and grab it myself while yelling, "No! Stop! It's mine, let go!!"

I managed to wrench the dress out of my mom's grasp without ruining it. But the second I did, my dad backhanded me, sending me sprawling onto the ground. As I touched the bruise on my cheek gently and shakily looked up at my dad, he growled, "We didn't raise a freak."

I bolted up the stairs and threw myself into my room as fast as I could. I slammed the door shut and pressed up against it in an attempt to keep my parents out. I felt tears running down my face as I whimpered, "Why are they doing this? What did I do wrong?"

"Daisy! Daisy, what's happening?!" Melody's voice grabbed my attention, prompting me to reply, "They found my dress, and now they're mad, and my dad hit me, and--"

The door to my room was forced open, sending me sliding across the floor. I clutched my dress as tight as I could as my mother started dragging me by the hair into the hallway. My dad undid his belt as he said, "You brought this on yourse--"

SCREEEE!

A giant brown blur lunged out of my bedroom and tackled my dad against the linen closet door. A woman covered in fur with big pointy ears and a pair of leathery wings in place of arms had pinned my dad as she hissed, "Try me, you self-righteous clump of garbage with a pulse!" My mom screamed and tried to run away, only for a giant strand of spider silk to reel her in and stick her to a wall. I looked up to see a woman with the lower half of a spider, long white hair, and jet black skin with a web line protruding from her wrist.

"O-Olive? Melody?"

Olive looked down at me and said, "Oh God, Daisy, please tell me you're okay," as she crouched down to pull me into a hug. I cried into her arms as she tenderly stroked my hair. My dad tried to say something, only for Olive to fire a web over his mouth to shut him up and another on his chest to stick him in place. Melody then joined Olive in embracing me as she said, "We are so sorry, baby. We never should've let you stay in this place for so long."

I sobbed as I responded, "I don't wanna be here anymore. I don't wanna be with them anymore."

Olive sounded like her heart was breaking as she said, "Okay, sweetie. Go pack up everything you want to bring with you, and we'll take you home with us. Does that sound good to you?"

I nodded. "I just want my dress and my stuffed animals and my game system. Then I'll be ready."

Melody walked into my room to start gathering up my things. My mom sputtered, "What is going on?! What are you people?!" Neither Olive or I gave her a response, and instead stepped into my room and lifted up the covers on my bed. As Melody and Olive crawled underneath and entered the shadows, I turned back to my mother and gave her the answer to her question and to the way I felt about the two:

"Those two are my family. My real family."