This was it. Tonight, something big was about to happen. The crying child could feel it in his ribcage, in the very centre of his bones. Tonight, would be different from others.
It certainly started off normally. The digital alarm clock reached midnight, and his eyes immediately snapped open. Something shifted in the atmosphere of the room, like it always did.
The pale, weak light of his torch panned around the room, barely illuminating anything.
A stealthy footstep sounded from the left side corridor. He took off at a run, racing to reach the door before his tormentor did. Listening carefully and breathing an inaudible sigh of relief when he did not hear the deep, raspy wheeze of breath through something distorted and metallic, he clicked on his torch and pointed it down the corridor.
It was here that things started to change. The monster down there was not the normal lilac, did not have long, rotted ears dancing above glowing white eyes. It was golden, a deep, terrifying gold, with small ears that framed a purple top hat and a mouth full of needle-sharp teeth. His breath caught in his throat instantly as the new monster glided out of sight.
"This is the last time," growled a voice that seemed to sound like it came from a river of stones sliding into a cave deep under a mountain.
His heartbeat was thumping in his ears as he fled back to his bed. His resumed vigil only lasted bare seconds before he felt harsh, putrid air being breathed on the back of his neck. Spinning around, his torch caught the rows of needle teeth, blank eyes, and the top hat. He yelped and fell backwards, his light firmly positioned on the decapitated head that lay on the bed.
Within moments, it was gone, just like how those tiny, bobble-headed demons had vanished before.
"There will be no more escaping."
He climbed back up onto his bed, just in time to hear a footstep from the right corridor. He ran to it, and, upon hearing the rasping breath, slammed the door shut.
Something took hold of the knob and he felt it jiggle in his hand. He held it firm though, biting his lip while liquid gathered in his eyes. Why had everything changed? What was this new monster? Why was it so aggressive?
The doorknob stopped moving, the signal that the monster had given up.
"Your choice this time, boy."
The voice was right in his ear. He jumped and spun around, before falling to the ground in shock at the huge golden monster towering over him. It reached for him with sharp claws, each bigger than his hand.
His reaction was to scream and run. Or crawl, right between the legs of this monster and out the other side. He fled to the far door.
"Us, or you."
He glanced back once, only once, to see the red eyes of the monster as it looked between its legs after him. It was enough to make him flee into the corridor blindly, the torchlight waving and jerking.
"Something will die tonight."
Ahead were two choices: the lounge room, or the kitchen. Behind, he could hear the door to his room opening, so he leapt into the kitchen and ducked behind the bench, crouching and praying that the monster would think there were more hiding places in the lounge room.
"Either I kill you, or you kill me."
His prayer was not answered. Heavy footsteps clumped into the kitchen. There was a swing and a crash, and the dishrack on the bench fell onto the tiles just in front of his feet, followed by the knife rack. The biggest kitchen knife slid out and lay gleaming on the floor before him. A sign from above.
"And let me tell you, I will kill you in the most painful way imaginable."
His hand curled around the knife handle. As he lifted it, it felt lighter than he'd thought it would. More than that, it felt like a sword, with which he could slay a dragon. This dragon that was coming around the end of the bench.
He had to be brave like those knights of old. He had to slay this dragon.
"What a pitiFUL-are you doing-WEApon." The distortion was only temporary. "That will NOT-put it down-HARm me."
The knife held high, the point forward. He had to do this.
He ran forward. He plunged the knife into the leg. The monster roared as it fell to its knees, a growl mixed with a human scream. He dragged the knife out as blood flowed, and plunged it again, this time into the upper chest. More blood flowed. The monster roared again. Its eyes still glowed red, still blazed with fury and breathed death.
He brought the knife up, one more time, before plunging it down into those horrible eyes. The monster let out its loudest roar, which dissolved into a gargle and a human shriek, before it was still.
Blood poured from its mouth, from its wounds.
It was dead. His tormenter was dead.
"My diagnosis was that he is suffering from schizophrenia."
"Schizophrenia, you say. For the benefit of those members of the court who do not know, could you please explain what that entails."
"Schizophrenia is a mental illness that affects an individual by making them experience vivid hallucinations, in addition to delusions and disorganised thinking."
"How vivid would you say these hallucinations are?"
"Anything they would see or hear would appear as real as I am, right here, talking to you right now. No matter how outlandish or strange it was."
"Do you think that schizophrenia could cause a person to mistake something or someone for something else?"
"Indeed. Such cases have been observed. Of course, it depends on the nature of the hallucinations. But yes, it is most certainly a symptom."
"Thank you, Doctor. No further questions."
"Now, does the prosecution have any questions for this witness?"
"Yes, your honour. The accused's supposed hallucinations have been listed as only occurring at a certain time. Is it possible for schizophrenia to occur in such a regular pattern?"
"Yes, it is possible. Schizophrenia affects each individual slightly differently, and they each react in a different way."
"Very well, Doctor. One more question. Is schizophrenia an ongoing illness or temporary?"
"It is very much protracted, with some individuals suffering from it for their entire lives."
"No further questions."
"In which way does the defence wish to plead?"
"My client wishes to plead guilty but temporarily insane, in that his mental faculties were diminished during the incident, and he did not recognise the impact of his actions."
"Please describe the nature of the relationship between the accused and his late brother."
"Well . . . the . . . he . . . um . . ."
"Please respond to the statement with a concise answer."
"They . . . they did love each other."
"Mrs Afton, you're avoiding the question. If I may be more direct: did the brother constantly bully the accused?"
"Y-Yes. Yes."
"Did you or your husband do anything to stop him?"
"We tried."
"And did it work?"
"No."
"'No'. There you have it."
"Mr Afton. Did my client ever mention suffering from nightmares, hallucinations, or report seeing anything well beyond the realms of possibility that could constitute as an example of a hallucination?"
"I remember him mentioning it to me once or twice. He was seeing something he described as 'scary monsters' during the night. I told him it was just a nightmare and that there were no monsters in the house."
"Regarding the defence's question: did the accused continue to mention the encounters with 'scary monsters'?"
"No. Not after a couple of times. I assumed that he'd gotten over it."
"What of the relationship between the accused and his late brother?"
"Poor, to say the least. They hated each other."
"And why did you not intervene? Your wife has admitted to your lack of action."
"I was busy. And I didn't know how to stop them."
"How does the jury find the accused?"
"The jury finds the accused guilty but mentally insane. The jury recommends that the accused is to remain in an institution until he is mentally fit."
"An excellent suggestion. The court case Utah v. Afton is hereby closed. The state declares that the accused, Evan Maxwell Afton, is to serve at the pleasure of the President, in the Pershing Institute for Mental Evaluation until such time as he is declared mentally fit by a professional doctor."
And so, the gavel falls. With it, the book closes on this unhappy timeline. Who knows where this story would lead if it was allowed to propagate and bear fruit? What changes would come about and what would remain the same?
But now, it is time to wake up. Heed the beeping of your alarm clock, leave this tale behind, and pray that the electronic shrill does not awaken you at midnight.
For all our sakes.