I was taught monsters hid under the bed to terrorise humans.
Truth is, they hid because they were afraid of the darkness.
Not that of the night, but of the heart of a being with an expiration date.
I will my heartbeat to quiten; beg my knees to cease clacking like thunder; threaten my throat to stop quaking.
But she finds me through the trail, running from my bladder and out, beneath my bunker.
Mama and Papa are always busy. They never listen; and send me off to my prison.
“Peekaboo,” says my nanny and I hear a zipper release.