Whenever my siblings and I misbehaved, my parents would threaten to lock us in “the ratty closet.”
The closet in my and Annabelle’s bedroom was connected to the attic. It had a sanded-down brown door with an iron latch that secured from the outside. It wasn’t used for anything other than the storage of old toys we had outgrown, and my mother’s sculpting tools. I had never been inside—I’d never even opened it—but I imagined it was inhabited by hideous monsters.
I’d bar the closet before bed, pushing our toy kitchenette against it, and lie awake listening to the sounds of nails scratching and scuttling along the floor above.
One night, after listening to the scratching for hours, I heard a thump and the weight of something shifting, falling, dragging its claws against the walls.
After a few moments of silence, it began pushing against the door. The plastic kitchenette squeaked as the latch creaked. I rose from my bed, moving toward the closet. Annabelle was still sleeping soundly, her soft breathing steady. I knew I had to protect her. I had to kill whatever was in there.
I grabbed a toy pot, my fingertips pulsating. I slid the kitchenette aside as the noise continued. Scratching, thumping, the closet door shifting. I inhaled deeply, my lungs filling, and held on to my breath as I reached for the latch, unhooking it slowly.
I threw open the door, and a creature was in the room. All I could see was a set of glowing eyes. A noise escaped from deep inside me. A sound I didn’t even know I was capable of making—high-pitched and deafening. I began swinging. The pot hit the floor, over and over, knocking things in the dark.
Annabelle was awake, shrieking, standing on the bed.
I swung one final time, a hard squish, air escaping, the smell. All the noise stopped.
My parents were in the doorway. They flicked on the overhead light, their faces tired and concerned. “What’s going on?”
I looked at the toy pot. It was covered in blood and pink bits. Then I stared down at a flattened rat, its insides spread over the floor, its skinny, furless legs still twitching.