There's a Monster in My Closet (Cricky) | #WattPride |

3| Sweet Dreams.

(A/N: just so you know, theres probably going to be a lot of time skips eventually because i want to get Ricky into highschool and so on instead of writing him as a middle schooler, but idk when ENJOY)

Music: Shape of You (by Ed Sheeran)

************Warnings: Violence***************************************

*Chris's POV*

          There are three basic rules you must obey in order to be assigned to a human.

           1. Don't have any interactions with said child other than to scare them or kill them

           2. Kill your child when you are assigned to

           3. Never ever develop feelings for said child (it will only make things difficult)

         And so far, if i've been keeping track correctly, i have broken every single one of those rules. But the committee doesn't know that. I bit the inside of my lip until i tasted oily blood on my long tongue. What have you done, Chris? You've dug yourself too deep this time. I should have just killed him that night, eight years ago. It would have been so easy to just have slit his throat while he slept on his racecar bed, thumb still sucked into his mouth as he dreamt pretty things. He wouldn't even have struggled. I nearly gagged at the thought. 

         How could i ever have killed the kid who i now look over through all of his high and low points? I saw every time he sat down at the rutty old desk to sketch another picture, biting his tongue in concentration. I watched him dream of me nearly every night, never once did a flash of fear cross his love-ridden face. And i felt every kick that was dealt to him in the hallway only hours ago. It took all my strength not to snap every one of those boys' necks, especially the one with the smug smile planted on his illformed lips, god complex making him smell like bullshit. I knew every one of his fears, i knew all of his weaknesses. But i managed to subdue my anger. 

        But that's not why i was here now, standing outside of his bedroom door in the blanketing shadows. I was here for one reason, i was ordered by the committee to kill "Jason Williams" for his wrong doings. 

        That's the one thing i never understood about my first order. All orders are given to either scare or kill humans who have done wrong. What could Ricky possibly have done before the age of five? Asolutely nothing.

        Jason's room was illuminated by a little fire truck nightlight strategically plugged into the outlet beside his bed. I made a mental note of that for me to bring up whenever Ricky's feeling down. He's always feeling down, and has been more secretive with his notebook, bringing it to school with him instead of leaving it behind like he usually did. But i don't think he would be any happier if i brought up Jason's weaknesses, considering he'll be dead within a matter of minutes and surely Ricky will find out about this. So i have to make it look like an accident, like it wasn't me who brought an end to this kids life. 

       My feet were soundless as i crept through the door and stalked over to where Jason lay motionless in sleep. So defenseless, just how i liked it.  I took a deep breath and switched into my "killer" mode; a mode where i wasn't thinking about Ricky, or his innocent face, or his lovely blue eyes, or.... Stop it.

        Shifting to a darker red, looped with an anamilistic enthusiasm, my eyes focused on the boy's exposed neck. The joy before the kill. I clenched my fist around his throat, claws plunging into the pliant skin until the boy woke with a start, face already turning a nice shade of blue, almost a lapis color. On instinct, he began to scream, but only a wretched gurgle and howl escaping his purpling lips. It was still too loud, gaining footsteps that rapidly approached the door. I growled, but luckily Jason fell limp in my hands, He wasn't dead but basically as good as dead.  

         I dragged my long talons across his headboard, chipping away the wood and paint beneath the little daggers out of frustration before i sank back into the shadows to watch Jason's poor parents let out a horrified wail, colapsing to their knees at the sigh of their almost lifeless son. They should have thanked me that i made it a clean death, i could have left him bloody and still desperately gasping for air in his torn lungs. 

         Although Ricky should be happy that he has one less bully to deal with, he can never find out that i did this. 

            Finally returning back to the spacey closet that i now recognize as my home, i felt my chest relax. Peering through the little slits in the foldable door, i let out the breath i was holding when i saw Ricky laying preciously unharmed in his bed, locks of dark hair tumbling over his smooth cheeks, not yet chiseled by maturity. 

           " Sweet dreams, little Ricky." My voice was smooth like honey, a deep bass over the silence of the room.

*******************************************************************************

ahh Chris isn't as nice of a monster as you thought he was, is he? How do you think Ricky is going to react to Jason's death?

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