The Shield
Safety isn’t always safe.
The closet door was open an inch. Just enough for a slice of darkness to watch him.
Danny lay flat on his mattress. He didn’t move his toes. Moving toes attracted attention. The air in the room felt thin and cold. It smelled like carpet dust.
He stared at the gap in the closet. Nothing moved. That was their trick. The bad kind waited.
His chest hurt from holding his breath. He needed the shield.
Danny reached down. He grabbed the thick wool of his grandmother’s quilt. It was heavy. Scratchy. Safe. He yanked it over his head in one motion.
The world went dark. The closet was gone. The watching slice of darkness was gone.
He exhaled. The air under the quilt was warm. It smelled like lavender and stale sweat. He curled his knees to his chest. He was a ball of impossible-to-eat boy.
He waited for the closet to creak. It didn’t.
The quilt settled heavier on his back. It felt good. Solid. Like armor.
Then the weight shifted.
It wasn’t a slide of fabric. It was a ripple. A muscle contracting.
Danny froze. His eyes were open in the pitch black under the covers.
The heat rose. It wasn’t his body heat. It was humid. Like the breath of a large dog panting directly onto his neck.
The wool texture against his cheek changed. It softened. It became slick.
Danny tried to kick his legs out. The quilt didn’t give. The corners felt like they were nailed down.
Something wet dripped onto his forehead.
The mattress sagged as the weight on top of him redistributed. It wasn’t covering him anymore. It was holding him.
A row of something hard and jagged pressed against his spine. Teeth.
Danny opened his mouth to scream, but the heavy, wet wool filled it.
THE END