The Monster Under My Bed

Chapter 4

I was walking to school with my black Jansport backpack on and dressed in a pair black high top vans, faded gray rip jeans, and a black hoodie that said ' asylum for the nutties'.

Yeah, I know what you're probably thinking. Where the fuck and how the fuck did you get that hoodie or maybe your not curious at all as to how I got it.

Though I tell you anyways..

I wish it was just some tv fandom quote. Like for American Horror Story for example, but it isn't. It was actually given to me from my grandma who lived cities away from where I lived, San Diego. Where as she lived in Arizona.

Anyways, back to the story of the hoodie. Now my grandma didn't buy this on the internet she had gotten it from her mother as well as my great grandma, who died and has been dead for around eight to nine years. My great grandma was known to be a complete and utter nut and because of this she was taken into a asylum. I never realized before, but I believed my great grandma was never a nut in the first place. Especially because she went on about the things I'd seen and had nightmares about.

"I saw him," she'd tell me anytime I'd visit her at the asylum. Though, me being nine or ten never could really comprehend what she was going on about.

"The beautiful man came to me again. His name's Alistaire, he's a very powerful boogeymen. Rosy, you listen to me okay. You tell great grandma about your dreams and nightmares, okay?" Memories of a conversation she'd have with me flashed in my head.

"I know you have them too, Rosy. Just like me don't you? You dream of a beautiful boy who is a boogeymen?" She asked making me nod hesitantly.

"And what's his name sweetie?" She asked.

"You can tell great grandma."

"I don't know.." I whispered. Would my fate end as my great grandma's?

"I won't tell anyone." She said.

"I pinky swear." She whispered holding out her pinky.

"Okay.." I said after a minute or two of thinking it over. I linked my pinky with my great grandma's.

We pulled away our pinky's and I told her.

"His name's Xander. He's my bestfriend, but sometimes he's really mean." I started and I told her of everything I knew of him and the things we did or he did in my dreams/nightmare's.

She understood.

She had the same thing happen with Alistaire.

I could relate with her.

It's sad to say she knew of Xander a whole year and then passed.

I was devastated. I had lost the one person who understood what I was going through. Who understood about the beautiful boogeymen and the dreams and nightmares that took place.

Nobody understood like my great grandmother did. I tried to make my mom understand, but all she'd say was that I had a very "creative imagination".

I tried to make my grandma understand, but all she'd say was "your just as crazy as my mom" or "knock it off with that nonsense".

Yeah, safe to say. It was better if I just kept my mouth shut. Though my mom started to realize that these nightmares were preventing me from doing things most girls do.

Like having a sleepover. I tried that at the age eleven. I was so excited. I couldn't wait to hang out with the other girls from my school and play barbies or maybe binge on the high school musical series.

It started off great, us girls oogled Troy Bolton and sang to the songs the cast did. We painted each other's nails and did each other's hair. Then we settled down and ate cheeseburgers- except Lindsay, a girl at the sleepover who was a vegetarian.

It got horrible when Xander thought it'd be funny to make me so scared I'd piss myself.

I ended up pissing myself.

Soaking it all through my blue cupcake pajamas, sleeping bag, and soaking a little bit of the girls sleeping bags as well.

Oh hell was I in for it.

I cried quietly scared I'd wake up the girls. I couldn't wake them the fuck up! They would have laughed at me. I would be thrown at the bottom of the food chain at my school. Especially considering we were in the sixth grade and I was desperate for friends.

So I did what I thought was the smart thing to do.

I threw my sleeping bag in a Vons grocery bag afraid It'd stain the backpack mom let me used for the night.

I ran quietly to the bathroom to change into my long sleeve shirt, blue faded high water jeans, and a new pair of underwear. I was not going to walk around in pee soaked underwear.

I was thankful that the bathroom had wipes to clean myself of the piss-

Anyways, too much information.

I was finished getting dressed and had every single thing I brought with me, because I'm pretty sure there's no chance of me ever coming back to this house for another sleepover any time soon.

I left.

I was a coward for not waking up the girl that host the sleepover, but I was scared. I booked it and walked home which was about around fifteen or thirty miles away.

The girls asked where I went the next day at school. They didn't talk to Lindsay which was weird. Though I found out why when they started to laugh at her and whisper to each other.

This is what I was afraid of.

Especially because they were the popular girls in the sixth grade.

Lindsay Shrumer had pissed herself at the sleepover as well and she was one of the girls that had been sleeping next to me.

I was over the moon.

I was ecstatic.

I was relieved.

I was happy.

Then I started to realize. That could have been me. They could have been whispering and laughing about me.

I had to do something.

I was balancing out the pros and cons of what was best.

Go with Lindsay:

Pros-

•I'd have a true friend

•We could bond over the fact that we pissed on Natalie's carpet

Those were pretty great pros.

Oh, fuck it.

I ended up going with Lindsay and from there on we had turned out to be the greatest friends, we still are.

I broke out of my thoughts when my school, MacIntosh High School came into my view.

Yay, who doesn't love school and learning with inconsiderate pricks- not counting Lindsay. I made my way into school with my resting bitch face on not paying any attention to the students or teachers around me. I bit my lip and pulled out my phone to check the time.

7:21

I still have seven minutes. I debated on searching for Lindsay or not and thought I better not.

I should just get to class, I thought.

I trudged to English and made it there in six minutes. I sat down at a empty sit at the back of the class and waited for class to start.