Mother will come back to the bedroom, tuck me in, whisper soft words of comfort, kiss me on the head. Father will call from the doorway with a tired smile in his voice: "Night, sport". I won't bother asking them to check under the bed: it won't be there yet. Uncle Rey has explained the rules carefully.
Tonight will be a bit different, at least for the monster. Uncle Rey built the trap, and installed it. Pressure plates and springs and chains. It will be loud, it'll wake Mother and Father, and they'll come rushing in, and then they'll believe.
