This chapter was inspired by the song 'The Monster' by Eminem, featuring Rihanna. I would love to follow this up with a couple of one shots, as Matthew grows up and continues to talk to the monster under his bed. But I love writing little kids too, so…

The Monster

Matthew sucked in a breath and pulled the blankets over his head as the shadows painted grasping hands and gnashing teeth across the wallpaper of his bedroom. He was scared. And even though his father said that he had imagined it, even though his brother teased him… He was still scared of the monster under his bed.

He wrapped his arms around his legs and rocked back and forth, covering his ears and whimpering. He tried to make himself as small as possible. He trembled, his teeth chattering, as he tried to soothe his nerves.

He could hear it breathing underneath him, gasping and growling. He could hear the click, the scrape of claws on his floorboards…

And then he sneezed.

"Gesundheit!"

Matthew squeaked and dove under his pillows with his backside in the air and his feet out in the open. He squealed when someone, something, tugged on his left foot.

"Let go, let go, let go..." He chanted, high pitched and desperate. He flinched when the monster chuckled.

"Whoa! Whoa! Shit! Okay, okay, chill out. I'm not going to hurt you." There was a long pause. "… Probably."

Matthew rolled over and peeked over the pile of blankets. He tried to tuck his feet underneath him but the monster refused to let go.

And it was a monster. It almost looked human, but it was too pale, too stark. It was long and warped and it seemed to bend at all the wrong places, in all the wrong directions. Its hands were large and stretched and each finger ended in sharp, bloodied claws but, somehow, none of them pierced his foot. It would have been so easy too… It would have been so easy to push down, push in… Rip, tear, cleave…

Its hair was a little mangled, knotted, but it was the colour of snow. Its eyes were wide and staring, as if it had seen too much, too fast. They were red, red, red.

Matthew was terrified.

"Please don't eat me, Mister Monster. I'll be good, I promise. I will."

The monster blinked at him, slowly, and tightened its grasp on his foot. It laughed.

"Is that what they're telling you nowadays?"

"I… What?"

"That's ridiculous. Why would I want to eat you? You're what, eight years old?"

"… Eight and a half," Matthew mumbled, petulant. He was almost nine years old, thank you very much.

"Exactly. Why the fuck would I want to eat you? You're all skin and bones. 'Sides, I'd be out of a job."

It was his turn to blink. He lowered his blankets in increments.

"Then, what do you want?"

"Huh?" The monster examined its claws in feigned disinterest. It raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, I mean, why are you here?"

The monster laughed and it sounded like a car accident, all twisting metal and scoured pavement.

"I live here," it said plainly. Matthew frowned.

"But I live here!"

He pushed his blankets down in indignation and scrambled over them. The monster continued to squeeze his foot, surprisingly gentle. Did it think he would run away if it let go of his foot? Could he even outrun a monster?

"Yeah, and so do I. Duh."

Matthew searched the sum of his eight and a half year old faculties for an answer but he simply did not understand. Not at all. None of the other children on the playground had a monster under their beds. Well, except for Feliciano, maybe, but he did not count. He was strange. He claimed that there was a monster hiding in his closet but everyone knew that he was exage… Exagger… That he was lying.

"I don't understand," he said as much. The monster sighed in exasperation.

"You live there," it pointed to him, on top of the bed, before pointing underneath it, "and I live here."

"But why?"

"You ask a lot of fucking questions, don't you?" The monster snorted and smoothed its tangled mane. "I'm supposed to look after you, alright? So I live under your bed."

Matthew pursed his lips, feeling a bit bolder with each passing moment. Perhaps the monster was not as frightening as he had first thought. Sure, it looked scary, but it did not act scary. In fact, the monster was sort of… Nice. Even if it said a lot of bad words.

"So, you're like a… Guardian Angel, then?"

The monster sputtered in embarrassment and it was almost funny.

"No! I'm nothing like that!"

Matthew crossed his arms over his chest and stared pointedly at the monster.

"But you're supposed to look after me, right…?" He sounded out each syllable, sarcastic and precocious, as if he were talking to someone particularly slow. Or his brother.

"Yeah."

"And you're supposed to keep me safe, right? And you even promised not to eat me!"

"… I guess," the monster admitted grudgingly.

"Then you must be a Guardian Angel!"

The monster growled and tugged on his foot, pulled on his toes. Matthew waited for it to hurt him, to throw a tantrum, but it continued to be surprisingly gentle. He must have been right, then!

"Keep your stupid theories to yourself, Matthew," the monster muttered sheepishly, "or I really will eat you."

"Nuh uh. I don't think you will. You said that you wouldn't…" He trailed off. "How did you know my name? That's not fair!"

The monster laughed again, that same horrible squealing, squelching sound.

"I wouldn't be very good at my job if I did not even know your name."

Matthew paused and turned the statement over in his mind. Yes. Of course. It only made sense. But… If it knew his name, then… Did that mean that it had a name too? He had never really stopped to think about it but monsters had to come from somewhere, right? They might even have families… Their mothers must have given them a name, an actual name, when they were born.

His own mother had died a couple of hours after he and his brother were born, but she had still had time to name them. Matthew and Alfred.

He thought they were good names.

"… Do you have a name?"

The monster opened its mouth and closed it again, taken aback, as if no one had ever asked before. Maybe no one ever had. Matthew wondered how many other children the monster had watched over before him. Had none of them thought to ask? Ever?

Or had they just been too scared to ask?

Matthew flushed with shame. He had been frightened too. And if he had never spoken to the monster, he still would be. He would have never known how nice the monster was… He would have never known that he had his very own Guardian Angel.

"… I do. My name is Gilbert." The monster, no, Gilbert, tucked a tangled strand of hair behind his pointed ear and Matthew wondered if he always played with his mane when he was feeling nervous or shy. He hoped that he would have a chance to find out.

He grinned and stretched out his hand.

"Hello Gilbert, my name is Matthew," he said brightly. His father had always told him that first impressions were very, very important but that second impressions could be just as powerful. He wanted to make it up to Gilbert. He wanted to prove that he would not run away.

He wanted to be friends.

Gilbert stared at his hand for a couple of minutes with a scrunched expression before carefully letting go of his foot and deliberately reaching for his hand instead. His clawed hand was easily four, five sizes bigger than his own.

Matthew admired the contrast.

"… Hello, Matthew. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Gilbert looked close to tears. Matthew smiled.

They talked all night.

Author's Notes:

It's been a while since I've added an author's note to the bottom of an Inspired chapter, hasn't it? I just wanted to point out that Matthew uses to the pronoun 'it' for Gilbert until he stops to think that the monster under his bed might actually have an identity. Once he knows his name, he starts referring to Gilbert as 'he'.

… I like writing little kids… But then again, you already knew that.

I'm flying over the holidays but I should pop in soon with some one shots and a gift for Maplevogel. That might be closer to New Years though… Luckily, she is very patient! I'm trying complete all of my holiday preparations and move in the next couple of days, so… Oh, and I have to do it all from another country, depending on where I am assigned. Greeeat…

But happy holidays from the bottom of my heart! Whether I speak to you often, rarely, or never… You have touched me somehow, some way, and I am thinking about you this holiday season. Thank you for another brilliant year!

(Has it really been that long? Ewww…)