Mathew has to shower twice as long as normal in the morning, partly to keep himself awake, and partly to try and make himself feel clean. He didn't sleep well last night, and Mathew knows he's messed up. A second later, a little too slow- Mathew shivers from something the warm shower can't fix. Mathew made a mistake. He did something different, and the monster had too. He still feels the ghostly hands on his rear. He doesn't know why, but the ants under his skin get angrier the more he thinks about it, burrowing into his stomach and twisting it all up.
The monster hadn't pulled his pants down this time, or tasted him, and all the goey gross had been left on the outside of his clothes, not his skin. It was better than usual, Mathew knows this, but he can't shake the growing apprehension instead. He's changed the rules, and though he's not sure how, he knows it's bad. The cold feeling only grows when he steps out of the shower, and Mathew reminds himself of the sleepover. Only one more night, then he can sleep at Alfred's. Alfred's house doesn't have any Monsters.
Papa is oddly silent, during breakfast, but Mathew doesn't ask why. He doesn't mention Alfred's sleepover either. He just asks Papa if he can bring a pudding with his lunch today. Papa is so distracted when he asks, Mathew thinks he could have asked for three, and Papa would still say yes. Mathew doesn't ask for more anyways.
At school, The Sleepover is all Alfred and Mattias are talking about. Lars said he couldn't come (Mathew suspects he just didn't want to, Alfred is really wild and loud), but Alfred says his cousins are coming over too instead. Mathew freezes.
"Cousins?"
Mathew has a cousin too, one he's only met a few times. One that's a grown-up, like Papa, and even has a daughter, around Mathew's age. But Mathew's cousin is a girl, not boys like Alfred's cousins are.
"Mmmhmm!" Alfred eleborates on the wrong thing. "Kyle and James! They're like really cool, you'll like them a lot!"
Mathew isn't so sure.
"Are they big?" He asks carefully, and a bit too nervously.
"Not really!" Alfred dismisses. "Kyle is a bit bigger than me, but he's shorter than Matt! And I'm still a whole inch taller than James!"
Mathew relaxes. Right. Alfred's home doesn't have Monsters. Just little boys. And Alfred's Dad.
Mathew's heart speeds up again at the thought, but he tries to shake the thought away. Alfred's house doesn't have Monsters, Alfred promised that. And Alfred doesn't lie.
"I've got a flashlight that changes colours!" Mattias brags, "And I gonna bring it tomorrow and we can pretend it's a campfire and tell scary stories!"
"Oh! Hot dawg!" Alfred cheered, and Immediately Mathew forgets his trepidations.
"Flashlights can't change colours!" He challenges, then, a second later, "... Can they?"
"Mine can!" Mattias puffs out his chest.
The adrenaline from talking about the sleepover wears off by the time Mathew gets on the bus, and he nearly falls asleep in the few stops between Alfred's stop and his own. He's stifling a yawn by the time he stumbles in the door, but Papa's not back yet anyways. He works later on the weekends, and Mathew is so sleepy. He shouldn't sleep, Mathew knows that, because the Monster comes out when he does. But he's so tired, and Papa isn't home yet and if it's really short, Mathew thinks he'll be okay.
Or he might have thought that, he's not sure. All he remembers is dropping his school bag on the floor, and falling into his bed.
He wakes up to fingers on his bum, tracing the cheeks, and slipping down in-between, pressing gently at the hole, then dipping back up again, like a twisted game of chicken. And Mathew very nearly, almost gasps when he wakes up. He just barely manages to hide the sudden change in breathing with a slight shift, disgusting it with the rustle of clothes, as though he just shifted in his sleep. The hands pause. Mathew doesn't move again, and in a second, the hands resume. He doesn't feel ants or worms or anything. He just feels numb, and a staticy feeling in his head.
The monster prods at the hole again, then, suddenly, slips inside. It hurts, and despite his best efforts, Mathew clenches reflexively, and the monster makes a small gasp. He can feel it, fine tendrils like hair dusting his shoulder as it leans over him. Mathew forces himself to relax. He's asleep. He has to be asleep. The finger withdraws, but then presses back in, and Mathew's head buzzes. He wants to be anywhere else but here. He wants to be with Alfred, and Mattias.
And then the monster speaks, in that voice it shouldn't use, the one that shouldn't (can't) belong to it.
"Mathieu?"
He keeps his eyes shut, he focuses on breathing. He doesn't focus on the hand or the finger that's probing his rear. He sleeps. The monster doesn't give up.
"Ah, Mathieu, you're awake, right?"
His whole body feels like it's buzzing, and there's a strange cottony feeling in his ears, like there's a layer of fuzz between the words spoken and what he hears.
"Mathieu?"
Mathew wishes he was really asleep. No, he wishes he was more than that. He wishes his body was dead, and then maybe the monster would leave him alone. At the very least, he wouldn't have to feel and hear the things he does. The monster gives up, with a sigh, and soft lips press something like a kiss to Mathew's neck, hair tickling the skin it touches.
"Mathieu, I love you, you know?" The finger inside jerks wierdly, touching a spot in a way that feels wierd and strange inside. "Mathieu... You love me too, right?"
And the finger is gone but Mathew can't even feel grateful, because there's a sound of a zipper being unzipped and a belt being unbuckled, and Mathew knows the worst is yet to come. He thinks of Alfred, as the prickles of ant legs begin to reappear behind his eyes. Alfred says he would beat up any monster if he saw one. Mathew wonders if Alfred would still say that if he saw what Mathew's monster was.
Something hard presses at his bare rear, and in a sudden shock, Mathew realizes what's going to happen. He almost whimpers, almost shoots up in fear and begs his P - begs the monster not to. But years of self-imposed training holds him down, trapped in a still form of a sleeping child, unable to move, to hide or run. Mathew wants to cry.
He doesn't believe in heroes, but Alfred does. Alfred used to say he was going to be a hero one day, and save lots of people. Mathew's never been saved.
Mathew doesn't believe in Aliens either, but Alfred always talks about how they abduct people, right out of their beds, and take them away to probe their brains ("It doesn't hurt, of course! Alien's got better computers than us!") to learn more about humans as a race. Mathew's never been taken from his bed either.
Alfred's dad believes in a God, and makes Alfred go to church, but Alfred says he doesn't care either way. ("God can do whatever he wants to do, and I'm gonna do what I want!" Alfred had explained once. "Don't see why if gotta listen to him just because he's got special powers. Aliens do too, and no one worships them.")
Mathew doesn't believe in God either, because Alfred's dad says God is loving and kind, and knows everything and can do anything. Mathew thinks that can't be true, because if there was a God who really knew everything, who was kind and loving, he wouldn't leave Mathew with the monster. He thinks if there is a God like that who would leave him there, he doesn't want to believe in him.
Mathew doesn't believe in a God, but he prays anyways, to anyone or anything out there that can hear him. To aliens, or the trolls that Mattias swears his cousin saw once, to fairies or spirits or even demons. Mathew silently begs to anyone who could help him at all.
"Please, someone help me!"
The hot thing presses against his hole, but before it can press further, enter and tear Mathew apart, a phone rings.
And keeps ringing.
The monster mutters a light curse under its breath, but withdraws, and Mathew hears the sound of a zipper being redone as the monster shuffles off in the direction of the phone. And Mathew lets out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, with deep shuddering gasps that just get heavier, and his cheeks itch and eyes burn as the tears he can't hold back anymore escape. Mathew curls into himself, gripping himself like if he holds his own arms tight enough, it might stop him from falling apart.
In the kitchen, the monster answers the phone.
"Hello? Francis Bonnefoy speaking?"