Jeremy woke up in a panic. He had to run, he had to get away! But, no, he couldn't! If he ran away, it would come after him. If it found him, it would bring him back and whup him and whup him and whup him forever and ever until he couldn't remember anything ever.
He called out for his mama, and when she didn't come, he stopped. Mama hadn't come for a long time.
But why didn't Jason come? Jason always came.
Stay or go, stay or go; what should a little boy do?
"Do as you're told," the monster growled, stomping on the floor.
Jeremy threw off his covers and sat up on the side of his bed. "B-but, I'm n-not a LITTLE boy!" he shouted into the room. "Not anym-more!"
Silence fell.
No growling or thumping.
Except maybe the thumping of his own heart. That was loud.
His breathing was loud, too. Like a bellows. In and out, in and out. Wheeze and whistle, wheeze and whistle.
Just himself.
No Mama.
No Jason.
No monster.
Jeremy stood up, squared his shoulders, and went to add wood to the fire.
"Not a little boy, no more," he mumbled, reassuring himself. He held his hands up and looked at them. Those big hands would look funny on five year old him, wouldn't they?
He poured himself a cup of coffee from the warmer in the fireplace and went to the table. He put the cup on the table, and then got into the chair and sat there and held his coffee and sipped at it.
His heart wasn't thumping now, and his breath was just breathing.
He didn't think he should run away anymore, which was good. Running away hadn't worked. The monster had got him anyway, hadn't it?
Or had it? How could a monster get him if it wasn't real? And he was running away home, and right now this was the homiest home there was, so there wouldn't be anywhere he could go.
Anywhere ELSE.
Jeremy sat there, coffee warm in his hands, and his mouth, watching the fire brighten as it took hold of the wood he'd added. It was warm, it was bright, he was breathing and alive, and there were no monsters.
Really.
They really weren't.
He put the coffee down as it occurred to him to wonder why he was so sure of that.
Why did he finally KNOW?
Had he remembered some of the nightmare?
WHY had he remembered it?
Why hadn't he remembered it before? You were supposed to run away from monsters, right? That should be common sense, not a nightmare.
Jeremy sighed. He wished he had a brother to talk it out with.
But maybe that was why he remembered? Because he had to wake up himself? Because he had to ask himself questions?
He shook his head.
When he'd been asleep, he'd been a little boy. He had still been confused about Mama being dead. He'd wanted to go home, that was why he was running away, to go home. That was why the monster was chasing him; so he wouldn't go home. Why?
Why couldn't he go home?
Jeremy finished his coffee, stood up, pushed the chair back up to the table, and checked the fire, making sure the wood he'd added wasn't going to spill out as it burned. After he'd taken care of that, he went back to bed, to lie awake until he went back to sleep.
Why was it bad for him to go home?
So bad that a mobster had to stop him?
On the edge of sleep, it occurred to him that Jason would never have let the monster come after him, and Josh wouldn't have let the monster get him. He wished he could ask them about that.