Someone In My Closet

A Little Light

   You know when I was little, I would tell my dad that there was a monster in my closet. I would say it would look at me at night, and it would stare waiting for me to fall sleep. My dad would go in the closet and look inside of it. He would tell me "Nothing is there sweetie, it's OK there's nothing there. There is no monster." I would nod my head in disbelief, but I would tell him "It's fine I know the monster won't hurt me. The monster is just looking at me, observing me, protecting me, Dad. It just scared me, but I'm fine now."

   He would smile at me and tell me goodnight, and I asked him to say goodnight to the monster. He did. I would say goodnight to the monster, and fall asleep.

   As I grew older I realized there was never a monster in my closet, there was someone in my closet though. I realized it was a boy watching me, he would turn the light on in the closet. It was only a little light, but enough for me to see what he looked like. 

   He looked like me. 

   He told me his name was Page Michaels. He looked like he could be my brother, but he definitely wasn't my brother. I remember asking him, "Who are you?".

   "I am you, Mat Michaels," he responded. 

   "But my name is not Mat. You can't be me, I'm a girl," I said rather softly it was almost a whisper. 

   "You aren't a girl, and I know you hate your name. Trust me I am you," he told me, in a way that made it sounded like he was demanding I believe him. 

   "Why should I believe you?" I asked.

   "Because I know the real reason why you wear binders every day, why you pull your hair up in a hat, why you where only stuff that clearly makes you look like a guy, and tell people that your name is Mat instead of Matilda.

   Because I know you hate the the fact you can't enter a men's bathroom."