"Sing me to sleep baby." She whispers to him at night. The sweet tunes keep the monsters under the bed and out of her head. No one knows why the monsters are scared, but she thinks that the happier you are, the less the monsters bug you. Truth is; she's tired. Tired of waking up in the middle of the night to the growling in her head.
"Stop it!", "Let me go!", "I'm sorry!", she'd scream in the dead of night. He holds her tight, and whispers to her everything will be okay, it'll be alright, it's all in her mind. But she screams on.
One day, he'd had enough. He was fed up with her and her monsters. So he left her, and she had no one to tell her everything will be okay. Her monsters became demons and she couldn't stop them anymore. She didn't know how. So they got worse, they reached the deep corners of her mind, and soon, she didn't need to be asleep for them to speak to her. They'd argue in her mind during the day, ad make her do things. They wanted her to do the worst of things.
So she did. She had no self-control. She picked up a blade and ran it across her thigh. 3,2,1, and then little beads of red began to pour out of her skin. No one had to know. No one even cared.
Suddenly, she couldn't take it anymore. She was done. She wasn't stronger than her monsters. When she walked through the door that evening, she ran to her cabinet. Bottles and bottles of pills getting poured down her throat.
She brought her blade to her throat and cut. She applied pressure, slowly sinking further into the skin. The blood began to pour out. She couldn't stop. It was the rage, the anxiety, the sadness, the tiredness, it was the monsters.
