My monster is my friend.

I was young, I was small, and I was impressionable.
I was tired, I was brave, I was confused.
Most children are afraid of the monsters under there bed or the monsters in your closet.
I wasn't scared.
I embraced it.
I laid in bed, the door to my closet was open just a crack.
The moon had a nice aim on the window beside said closet, so the room wasn't entirely dark.
The door opened more.
Enough for the light to seep into the closet.
Enough for me to make out the closing hanging, frozen.
Enough for me to see the busted light bulb at the top of the small space.
Enough for me to see the figure holding it open.
It was darker than black, it was small and deformed.
It was as eerie as the quiet knocking you hear when your the only one home.
It was as different as panicking as that feeling you get when you think somebody was watching.
I stared, I didn't want to blink, I didn't want to go to sleep.
It was just a blacker than black small void, with its own little figure.
Time passed and I still didn't understand.
I must have stopped focusing, because I then noticed it had eyes.
Small glowing sockets.
They comforted me.
I stared at them.
I was confused.
I was safe.
I was tired.
I fell asleep.
I woke up to the closet door closing as it made a creaking sound, and my father walking in to wake me up for school.
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The next night, it happened again.
But the glowing sockets in its "head" were there the whole time.
I fell asleep much sooner.
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I grew older, shrugging it off and rolling over when I saw it.
I feel it staring at me, not just at night.
But then we moved.
I waved goodbye to the closet as if I was losing a good friend, It made me sad.
I never questioned the monster.
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My new closet.
It was a walk in closet that had no door.
My parents, I later found out, assumed all children were scared of there closets.
So they put a curtain on a rod in the small doorway.
I had another window by my new closet.
I cried the first few nights.
I heard noises.
My monster wasn't there to comfort me.
I heard voices.
My friend wasn't going to help me sleep.
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One night, I couldn't sleep.
I couldn't tell what was wrong.
Something was off.
It was winter, and I was cold, but I got up and opened the curtain.
Just a bit, so it wasn't touching both sides of the wall, and laid back down.
My friend showed up, once again.
The noises stopped, my monster was back.
The voices stopped, my friend helped me sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I grew even older.
Now in my teens, The stories I heard, I realized my friend wasn't normal.
It began to bother me.
I refused to look at the closet.
I couldn't sleep.
I made sure to tape the curtain to the wall.
But over time, I would hear the loud, tearing of the tape.
I didn't want to look, it probably knew I was aware.
I decided to confront my friend, I guess.
I took the curtain down before dusk.
I sat at my bed and stared at the closet until I saw it.
I held my weapon in my hand as tight as I could.
I didn't do my research.
I did what I thought was best.
I did what I thought would be for the better.
I did what I wanted to do to cure my sanity.
The night went on.
I stared and stared, waited and waited.
Eventually it showed up.
Seemingly walked from the side of the wall where I could not see.
It had nothing to hold, it was standing straight.
It was taller than me in the sitting position I was in, so I stood.
It was my height, but it was leaning towards me.
Staring.
It had a more human form, but its limbs were oddly shaped.
"Your not welcome."
The glowing sockets on its face grew.
"Leave."
It growled.
It was loud and low.
I got this pressuring feeling.
I took two steps, closing the space I needed to hit a powerful hit on its head.
There was a yelp, and I turned to flip the light.
There was a tall, thin, deformed looking human, with black skin, laying on my floor.
Its head was bleeding, its leg was twitching.
Then I heard a sound.
It was a painting that fell.
I heard a voice.
I didn't know what it said.
Another sound.
More voices.
More aggressive.
Everything got worse.
My monster wasn't my monster.
My friend was my protector.
It was protecting me.
It was helping me.
It was dead.
I killed it.
I'm dead.
My friend wasn't the monster,
I was.