The night breeds monsters. They erupt from the dark corners of rooms, from the invisible voids beyond windows, from behind shower curtains. I fly up the stairs, skipping steps, and corpses shriek after me. Dead, black-eyed children clutch at my heels; bloodied cannibals nearly sink their teeth and nails into the exposed skin on the back of my neck. Last step. I clench my fists, knowing that they lurk around the corner at the top of the stairs. I jut a well-placed elbow out into the darkness. Nothing. I see the light leaking through beneath the door of my parents’ bedroom. Only three more running-steps. Punch the air behind me as I turn the knob. I arrive panting, in a cold sweat, but happy. I always have to greet questioning looks.

“No, I wasn’t running.”

They never, ever catch me. Neither of them.