I miss the monster lurking in the shadows, salivating to come and get me.

There is something about me that gets under his skin. I slither my way inside and out through his claws.

He wanted to break my face. I make him so angry.

Some time has passed since I’ve felt them, or his burning breath against the back of my neck, or his venom filling the back of my throat.

His smell used to linger in my home, but now it’s long gone. His marks used to last in between visits, but they have disappeared. His control used to stick to my soul like sap, but it’s now saturated with alcohol and dissipating.

I am losing faith in his return. I cannot feel the possession.

Maybe there is no more monster under my bed.