I have a step-son. He's three.
A quiet boy, he doesn't like to draw attention.
When I was helping him get ready for bed this evening, I noticed a bruise - a big one - on his back. He told me he got it from the monster under his bed.
He told me he was scared.
Kneeling down to check, I tried to hide my fear.
But I couldn't lie.
I couldn't tell him monsters aren't real.
"Try to get some sleep". I closed the door, softly, whispering goodnight.
And I knew. The monster was real.
Not hiding under his bed. But waiting. In mine.