Bugs Bite

CHAPTER TWO: Angel

It's funny, isn't it - how things which seem so scary and unnerving at night appear so harmless and vague in the wake of dawn?

Avish awoke in response to the surplus of sunlight falling on his lids through the bedside window. His lips moved in an inaudible grumble as he yawned and flexed his muscles before truly coming to his senses. He looked at the Mickey-Mouse clock hanging on the sidewall. It was 11:08 a.m.

Wait, what?

He never woke up that late. Ever. He was a paragon of the "early to bed, early to rise" kind. He had never required alarms or for his mother to wake him up. His pineal gland was on point. So what in the -

The music. The man.

His eyes darted over instantly to the bean-bag. It was vacant. Obviously.

A dream. A stupid, stupid, STUPID dream is all that was.

Everything became clear now. Saturated. He recollected the events -

(no, no, no, just a dream, just a dream, just a dream)

- of last night. The stranger, the gruesome-looking, polite intruder.

Avish could not distinctly remember when, exactly, he had fallen asleep. The man had leaned forward in the bean-bag, revealing his disturbing personage. He had smiled then, his ugly, mottled teeth as crooked as his looks. He had asked him a question, asked him something-

(are you still afraid of me)

-and Avish had shrieked then, shrieked on top of his lungs, hid under his sheets. Through his cover, some unusually long fingers, like drumsticks he'd used to have as a toddler, had reached out and touched his face - the man was fast, wicked fast - covered his mouth so the scream wouldn't be heard - and Avish had yelped, screamed louder than ever, though stifled - and the bony drumsticks had rammed into his skin
- and then - and then -

And then what?

He could not remember.

Your stupid dream ended, is what happened! Don't overthink it.

For a long while, Avish sat there on the bed, staring abstractly at the clock. Tick-tock, tick-tock, it went.

What if the man was still in the house somewhere? Hiding? Waiting for the right chance to pounce?

Tick-tock, said the clock. He's not. Because he's not real.

What if the man was under his bed right now?

Tick-tock, said the clock. He's not. Because he's not real.

What if -

No! He's NOT REAL!!!

Tick-tock, tick-tock . . .

Avish was so lost in his shallowly deep thoughts that he jumped nearly a foot off his bed when someone entered the room. It was only Mom.

Tick-tock, said the clock. What else did you expect? That the man would barge in and slaughter you in cold blood?

'Ah, I wondering when you'd w-' Mom stopped mid-sentenced as her mouth took an O-shape of surprise. She rushed toward Avish and inspected his face. 'What's that on your face, honey?'

Avish frowned. He touched his own face. He felt idiotic doing it. 'Nothing happened to my face, Mom. I'm fine. Quit messing around. I'm not a kid anymore.'

'No, really, honey,' Mom said. 'Look in the mirror if you don't trust me. It's a li - '

'Shweta! Where the hell do you think you are?!'