If you ask an average person what purgatory probably feels like, they'll probably compare it to being in a doctor's waiting room, or sitting on an airplane before its departure. If you ask Carl Casagrande? Well, first he'll ask you what the word "purgatory" means. Then, after you explain the concept to him, he'll likely compare it to being struck with a bout of insomnia at a sleepover.

It was 1 a.m. at the Changs' apartment where Carl was sleeping over. Stanley, Becca, Sid and his good friend Adelaide were all fast asleep. He was wide awake. Maybe he had gotten too much screen time before going to bed, or maybe the pint of cola he drank was the true culprit. Whatever the case, all he could do now was wander the eerily quiet halls of an apartment he wasn't very familiar with.

He walked from room to room, taking extra care to minimize the sound of his footsteps so as not to wake anyone up. He spent an inordinate amount of time staring at a family picture of the Changs standing right outside their stoop, taken days after they moved in. In an attempt to pass the time, he scanned the photo for every conceivable detail he could have missed - the mustard stain on Stanley's pants, the traces of shedded animal fur on Becca's shirt, and what appeared to be a gap in Adelaide's smile. (Perhaps she was owed a visit from El Ratón at the time.)

After taking in all of that, he glanced at his watch and was gobsmacked to see that it was only 1:05. That's impossible. I feel like I've been standing here for hours.

He ambled towards the kitchen and briefly entertained the thought of raiding the fridge for a glass of milk, but he didn't know which foods were up for grabs and which were off limits. He supposed he could take a book off one of their shelves in the living room and read for a while, but what if those were off limits, too? He sorely wished he had asked more about their house rules when he had the chance. All he could do was shamble back to Adelaide's room - where his sleeping bag was set up on the floor - and try to go back to sleep.

But as he approached her bedroom door, he heard a faint noise coming from inside. Curious, he tried pressing his ear against the door, but it was still too faint to make out. As he creaked open the door and tiptoed inside, the sound gradually became clearer, and he could tell that it was coming from Adelaide's bed. He also saw that the Adelaide-sized mound under the covers was shifting and undulating; either she was having a bit of trouble getting to sleep herself, or there was a mumbling monster hiding under her covers.

…yeah, probably the first one. But he supposed it wouldn't hurt to check.

He climbed onto her bed, grasped the edge of her comforter and carefully drew it away from the mattress. Sure enough, there was no monster to be seen, and it was clear the sounds were coming from Adelaide. She was tossing and turning about, her eyes were clamped shut, and now that Carl could actually make out what she was mumbling, it wasn't hard to piece together what was happening to her.

"No more… please… we're sorry… just stop it…no, not Sid! Stay away from her!…Somebody help us…"

Carl's heart ached. The Adelaide he knew was confident, strong, fearless. Seeing her in such a frightened state felt wrong on a fundamental level, and he shuddered to imagine what could possibly frighten her.

More importantly, she was his best friend. He couldn't, in good conscience, go back to bed while his friend was suffering. If it was hard for him to sleep before, it would be downright impossible with the knowledge that Adelaide was at the mercy of a bad dream.

He had to wake her up.

She warned him before bedtime that he would get a butt kicking if he woke her up, but he would gladly take that butt kicking if it meant saving her from her nightmare. He grabbed her by the shoulder and gave her a good, strong shake.

"Adelaide, wake up! You're dreaming!"

Adelaide's eyes popped open. For a while, she just stared at the ceiling in a trance-like state, as though her brain had to recalibrate itself. Her breathing was labored, and he could hear her heart pounding against her ribcage.

As time went on, the paralyzing shock seeped out of Adelaide's system. Unfortunately, said shock was the only thing keeping her from confronting the horror of what she had witnessed. She propped herself up against the headboard of her bed and began to speak.

"Oh, Carl, it was horrible," she whispered, in a voice that sounded to be on the verge of tears. "We were celebrating Nico's birthday. You know Nico, right? He's one of our monkeys. We had a big, delicious cake for him, and balloons and streamers, too. Everyone was so happy. But…"

The wrinkles in her forehead became deeper and more pronounced. "…the balloons started popping, and the sound hurt Nico's ears. He got more and more upset every time it happened. Then a balloon popped in his face, and…"

As she looked into Carl's eyes, her eyes exuded a palpable feeling of fear that he had never seen her express before. "…he screeched. He jumped on my dad and started banging his fists against his face. Mom and Sid tried to pull him off and he attacked them, too. Punching them and biting them and screaming in their ears. I begged for him to stop but he wouldn't listen."

The tears she had been holding back the whole time began to well up in her eyes. "But the worst part was the end. He stopped screeching and attacking and just stumbled towards me. His eyes were big and yellow. There was blood all over his cheeks and he was baring his teeth at me. It was the scariest face I've ever seen. That was when you woke me up."

The world around him seemed to grind to a halt as he stared into her misty, quivering eyes. Carl was a boy with myriad strengths and talents - chess, karate and hustling, to name a few - but making others feel better was not one of them. He tried to imagine what Frida would do if she were comforting him, and tried to mimic the actions that unfolded in his mind.

"It's okay, Adelaide," he whispered, as he reached out and caressed Adelaide's cheek with his hand. "It was just a dumb nightmare. Go back to sleep."

"I can't."

"I can't"? He had to stifle a gasp. The sentence "I can't" was just about the last thing he expected to ever hear from her. This was Adelaide. She could do anything she set her mind to and she knew it.

"I'm scared to close my eyes," she whimpered. "I don't wanna see that face again." She gave off a shudder that seemed to shake a few tears loose from her eyes, which were now running down her face.

Carl felt a lump forming in his throat. The sight of Adelaide in such a state was tearing his heart asunder. God, what was he to do? He wished he could just scrub away Adelaide's memory of the nightmare, of that ghastly face. If he were in her shoes, he would just try to imagine El Falcón watching over him as he slept, but Adelaide wasn't him.

But as luck would have it, that idle thought of his triggered a minor epiphany. Maybe she would feel more comfortable if she knew there was someone looking out for her while she slept. Not El Falcón, but someone she knew and trusted and admired.

Someone like him.

He patted the center of the mattress and told her to lie back down. "You don't have to close your eyes yet," he assured her. "Just lie down."

"O-okay."

She nodded, crawled over to the spot he patted out for her and lied down on her side, her breath still shaky and erratic. Once she took her position, he crawled behind her, wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her in tight.

Gosh, she's tiny, he thought. As he engulfed her in his warm embrace and let her head rest against his chest, Carl was reminded just how small Adelaide was compared to him. He towered over her despite being around the same age (though he supposed that her confidence and commanding personality made him forget that).

Unfortunately, that wasn't the only thought crossing his mind. His body was gripped with tension, as he felt he was violating some unspoken taboo. There was no way he would be doing this if he had any better ideas in mind. He already felt a bit uneasy agreeing to sleep over at a girl's house, but getting into the same bed as her? And snuggling her? There had to be a line somewhere, right?

At least it seemed to be working, though. Her breaths gradually became longer and smoother the more he held her. She let out a low, contented "mmmm" as she nestled her head against his sternum.

"Shhh," he whispered. "Go to sleep. Go to sleep."

Carl was, at varying times, Adelaide's companion, her competitor, her sparring partner, her pretend sidekick and her pretend house-husband, but this was the first time he ever felt like her protector. He was there to keep all of her bad dreams at bay and make sure that she got a good night's sleep. And that feeling - that warm, fuzzy feeling - overwhelmed any sense of doubt or self-consciousness that he felt before. If there was anyone who would object to him comforting his best friend in the whole world, they could just pound sand for all he cared. He was going to hold onto her until he was sure that she was fast asleep.

Or, at least, that was the plan going in. Ultimately, he got so comfortable that he fell asleep beside her before he could make it back to his sleeping bag. The two of them slept soundly, and Adelaide didn't see that ghastly face again for the rest of the night.