I knew I was dreaming when the monster came into my room tonight because the doctors told me he wasn’t real. I’d made him all up. The scary lady, too. They were a figment of my imagination, delusions I invented inside my own head, and I think that made me feel better because it meant I wasn’t really being hurt. The scary lady wasn’t pushing me under the water in the real world, and the monster wasn’t putting things inside of my body, either. I didn’t have to fight back and scream and warn the monster that my best friend told me about the bad touch because it wasn’t happening. That made me feel
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I hate thisssssss
