Mona explores the bedroom.

She was a child again. Was that literal? Metaphorical? Who could tell at this point. All she knew for certain was that everything seemed much bigger and scarier than when she first stumbled in here. This was her childhood bedroom, so it only stood to reason she would have to be a child to come back here. Something like that, at least.

Whatever rationalizing she could do had to be put on hold. If she was here, that only meant one thing. To confirm her fears, she heard a gentle knocking on her door. A lump formed in her throat, her body instinctively cowering away from the noise. "Mona, it's me," that familiar voice said with another few knocks. "I hope the door isn't locked. You know you're not allowed to do that."

She had to hide. Even if it did no good, she had to hide. Mona ran to her bed, pulling the tiny footstool she used to get in and out of it from underneath and dropping to her knees. She hesitated after that, realizing her mistake almost immediately.

She always hid under the bed. He always found her. She couldn't hide here if she wanted to survive. She had to find somewhere else. Somewhere safer. And quickly.

Another knock. "Come on, Mona. Open the door for papa. We're going to play that game before bedtime."

He'd get that door open soon enough. He always did. Eyes darting around the room, she tried to come up with a better hiding place. The closet? The gap may have closed but perhaps there was something she could scrunch behind.

Running towards it, a quick glance inside showed nothing of the sort. Outside of pulling some clothes off the hangers and hoping that a suspicious pile on the ground didn't draw his attention, there was nothing she could do on that front.

He was pounding against the door now. She was running out of time. What about the dresser, she thought. Using all her strength, she pulled the bottom drawer open. Outside of a few folded pairs of pants, it was mostly empty. Maybe even big enough for her to fit inside.

Considering it as an option, she dismissed it after a few seconds. It seemed good on the surface, but the logistics of getting in there posed a number of issues. The largest of these was how she would manage to close herself inside.

The door began to flex and bend with each new strike against it. Mona had to decide on something now. As her mind began to weigh the pros and cons of standing behind the door once it was opened, her eyes fell on the blue wooden toy box in the corner of the room. She'd forgotten it was even there, shoved next to the closet and out of sight when she first made it here.

Scrambling to the box, she opened the lid to see it half filled with various dolls and stuffed toys and costumes and other bits. Maybe this would work. Climbing inside, she shifted around the contents to make room. Stabbed all over by various bits of plastic, she closed the lid once she was far enough inside, then readjusted so as to cover herself fully underneath a thin black cape and a handful of princesses.

Then the door burst open. She heard it smash into the wall, likely blasting a hole in the material from how much force the blow held. After a few seconds pause, she could hear her father lumber inside. The sharp noise of the metal in his throat followed by the splattering of that disgusting fluid burned in her ears, barely letting her track his movements around the room with how deafening it seemed.

The clatter of metal and plastic told her he'd ripped down the hanging bar in the closet. A few seconds later, the little footstool impacted something else wooden, likely meaning he was checking under the bed.

He knocked over the table by her bed next, rummaging around the room for any sign of her. From the sound of things, he also pulled the dresser over and smashed it open. That only left one more place to look.

Holding her breath and trying to contain her tears, Mona curled into a ball and waited for what came next. The seconds ticked by slower than they had any right to, the hinge of the box's lid finally creaking open after what felt like years of suspense.

She could barely make out his form towering over her as he peered inside. As he stuck his hand inside to feel around, she hoped with all her might that she was just far enough down that he wouldn't touch her. Plastic clicked against itself while the tiny beads inside different toys squished back and forth, various bits of things tossed out of the box by the clumsy, hate-filled grasps.

From the way things moved around her, his hand was almost right on top of her. She could feel its weight pass over her several times, missing her by only a few centimeters at best. The wait to find out if she was caught was almost as agonizing as what she imagined he'd do to her once she was. She pleaded in her mind over and over for this to come to an end. She couldn't take much more of this.

Then he was gone. She felt his hand retract from the box before everything went quiet. At first, she thought maybe he was just toying with her; that he'd found her and was waiting for her to give herself away. Just one last trick to get her hopes up.

The longer she waited, the more convinced she was that he'd vanished. Summoning her courage, she slowly poked her head up from the toy box, taking care to make as little noise as physically possible. What she saw was the room just as it had been. Nothing appeared knocked over or destroyed and the only evidence that any of that had happened was the open door leading into darkness.

Most importantly, he wasn't there to catch her. Crawling out of the box, she flopped onto the ground. The stress of everything left her feeling weak and dizzy, tempted to climb into that bed and pass out. She couldn't leave herself vulnerable like that, though. She had to get up and move.

Pulling herself off the ground, she decided to do a more thorough search of the room after shutting the door. She would have locked it but it seemed to have broken. Of course.

Combing through the toy box seemed smart, a course of action that paid off in spades after her hand fell upon another box of ammunition. Ammunition she couldn't use. Once again, of course. Just something else to taunt her, like a person dying of thirst in the middle of the ocean.

However, something in her memory was beginning to awaken. Upon closer inspection, she realized this box contained shotgun shells. Ten of them, in fact. Her father had a gun like that, right? He had to. Even if he didn't, there couldn't just be random shells for something she'd never use laying around.

Going on that hope, she had to try and find the weapon. Shoving the shells into her pockets, she continued to explore the room. The dresser turned up nothing besides extra clothes that no longer fit her. The table was similar with just a lot of interesting pebbles and some paperclips inside, though she decided to bring a shiny bronze coin with her. Maybe it would have some use later.

Finally, she turned back to the toy box. She'd noticed it before but only now went to take it. It was a long plastic sword meant to be based on something like Excalibur. Not the most reliable of weapons but it would certainly be preferable to going at this unarmed. She also distinctly remembered how much it hurt to get hit by it, the manufacturers having constructed the blade of solid plastic rather than something hollow. At any rate, it would be a lot more effective than lugging around the TV.

Having found everything that seemed like it was worth taking, Mona prepared to head into the darkness once again.

Mona finally has a goal. What will she do if she came reach it?

Thanks for reading. Share if you're enjoying. Always remember to clean your room.

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