I'm on my bed right now. Crying. I'm ashamed...I have a reputation of being extraordinarily tough for a boy my age. But my whole world's been shattered. Turned upside down by the impossible.
They're real. They walk. They talk. Like us. This whole time I thought I was alone, I was wrong. We were all wrong. They see us. Everything we do. They hear us. I feel so violated. My bedroom is supposed to be my private space. And all this time, all these years...they were spying on me.
"Sid!" This time it's my mother's voice. "Open the door. I think we need to talk."
I try to stop crying. While I don't invite her inside, I don't tell her to go away. I don't want to talk. And I sure don't want to listen.
My mom doesn't give up so easily. "Well, if you won't talk to me, I'm taking you to a therapist."
Oh no! That's what I didn't want to hear. I start crying all over again.
I'm not crazy. I'm not! I saw what I saw. I swear, I can still feel the mechanical spider legs clutching my head.
Nobody bothers me again until morning. I haven't slept...I couldn't stop remembering. Toys, ripping their way out of the ground. Speaking my name. Closing in on me...
The knock scares me.
"Sid! Get up, get dressed. I made an emergency appointment; be ready in an hour."
No. I'm not opening that door if Paul Bunyon wants to see me.
"Mom?" Hannah asks, from the other side of my door. "I'm worried about him."
She gets harder to hear as they walk away, until I can't hear them at all. I get up and look slowly past the curtain. The toys are gone. The yard is empty. Quiet. The day is peaceful...I know it's a lie. They're out there. Waiting for my door to open. They'll attack me.
The hour trickles by. "SID!" Mom shouts. "If I have to burn your door down I will!"
I sneak to my door and pull it slowly open, peering past her for moving toys. "Good grief, Sid," Mom murmurs, "Didn't you sleep?"
"No. No." I wipe crud out of my eyes.
"Well, you'll regret that. Come on."
I run past her and hurry down the stairs and outside. Mom has the keys, so I clamber up onto the roof of the car and wait for her. When she unlocks it I jump to the ground and quickly get in -
And freeze. THERE'S A TOY ON THE DASHBOARD!
I grab it by a paw and fling it onto the yard, looking in the car for more toys before I feel safe enough to get in. Mom shakes her head at me. She doesn't know...she'll never believe me...and she should. I know what happened.
My name is Sid Phillips, and I am not crazy...
-x-
TOYS! The therapy office has toys! I can't move. I CAN'T BREATHE!
The therapist sees me looking at it and she smiles, picking one of them up and stroking it like a cat. Like it was ALIVE!
"Cute, right? Here, would you feel better if you hold it?"
She tries to HAND IT TO ME! NO! I run from the office. I'll be a recluse! I'll be a shut-in! Get them away from me!
-x-
(2 months later)
"Hey, Sid." A nurse walks in, smiling as if she doesn't think I'm crazy. But she does. That's why I'm here. "I have your lunch! Come eat!"
Arms tightly strapped to my chest, I turn and walk over to her. "I'm not crazy. They're real."
"Of course they are," she said soothingly.
"I don't belong here!"
"Yes you do. Here you go." She sticks the spoon into my mouth, and I chew the flavorless oatmeal. Just like I had done for the past 59 days. The same taste. The same treatment. Nobody believed me. They called me insane; I was only here because it was their fault! Oh, I want to throw something so bad. I want to make an explosion of oatmeal on that bland eggshell wall.
I would not be here forever.
I would get my revenge.
On toys.
On people. Neither species would laugh at the day I was humiliated by wool, fabric, cotton, vinyl or plastic FREAKS!
It's okay, I tell myself. They'll find out eventually. They'll know.
And when that day comes...they'll regret how they stuck me here, called me crazy, tied my arms, and they'll regret it forever.
I know they will.