The monster oozes from the closet, slinks past Tim’s bed to Jon’s. It pulses wetly. Jon sobs, “No, Timmy!” It writhes, slurps. Tim smiles.
If our parents hadn’t made us too middle class to fight, scratch, blackmail, we could sort this out on daytime TV. Instead, I’ve made her cry.
“Leave me alone!” I shout into the darkness. My sister’s shadow leaps from the wallpaper into the bed we used to share. I can’t let her go.