It comes at 11:45 PM, every single night. At first, I thought it was my punishment for staying up past my bedtime. I thought maybe I should’ve listened when mum said, “Go to sleep.” But then, one night, it started talking to me… and I started listening.

Now, it’s the seventh night since it came. I stay up again, waiting for it, my feet dangling off my bed. I’m wearing my blue-striped pajamas, the ones I got for Christmas last year. I know it’s here because it always does the same thing. It takes one of my socks off.

The first time that happened, I was terrified. Now, I just jump out of bed and look under.

It’s not scary. It looks like how you’d think a monster would look, but softer somehow. Almost like you tipped over the TV and a character from a cartoon fell into real life. It’s like a lion mixed with a dragon mixed with a fish.

Its big yellow eyes open in the dark and meet mine. I smile.

“Did you find him?” I ask.

“No, not yet.” Its voice is like pages turning in a book. “I keep ending up here.”

“Maybe you’re supposed to be here.” I say. “Maybe I’m supposed to help.”

It does something like a laugh, if monsters laughed, and asks, “You… help?”

“Yes.” I nod. “I’m pretty good at finding things, you know. I found Dad’s wallet in the couch, and I found Mum’s ring under the fridge that one time.”

The monster thinks. “But this is different. I’m looking for a little boy, not a wallet or a ring. His name is Michael, you remember? I told you.” It pauses. “And he’s very sick. He needs me to help him cross over.”

I chew on my lip. “I could try to find him. I think I know where he might be.”

“You would do that? Are you brave enough?”

“Yes.” I smile, and I feel braver than I ever have before. “I’ll find him.”

The next morning, I leave the house early, before Mum and Dad are even awake. The bus ride is long, but I know where I’m going: the hospital. It’s the big building that’s always cold. Everything there is too white, it makes me sick. I walk through the halls, peeking into rooms, until I find the right one.

This must be it. In the bed is a boy my age with dark hair and tired eyes. There are a lot of machines everywhere.

He looks up when I step inside, “Who are you?” He asks.

“I’m Harry.” I tell him, pulling a chair up beside his bed. “I came to find you.”

“Why?”

I lean in, whispering, “Because of the monster.”

His eyes widen.

“It comes to my room every night, looking for you. I thought… maybe you’d want to come with me to meet it.”

He stares at me for a moment. I don’t know if he cares about meeting the monster or just about finally going outside, but he says, “Yes. Please.”

So I help him out of bed, help him put on his shoes, and we go.

It’s nearly evening by the time we reach the place the monster told me to go. It’s a graveyard, and it’s kind of scary.

Michael clutches my hand as we walk.

Out of the shadows, the monster appears, looking more real than I’ve ever seen it.

“I found him.” I say, pulling Michael in front of me. “You can help him now. You can save him.”

But the monster looks confused, glancing from Michael to me. “Harry… I’m not here for him.”

“What? But… you said—”

“No, Harry. I’m here to help you.”

My heart stops, and I can’t breathe. “No. No, I’m not—” I look to Michael, but he’s gone. I look around and I can’t find him.

The monster kneels down. “You heard what you wanted to hear, Harry.”

I stumble back, wanting to run, but my legs are weak. I can hear voices far away—voices that sound like mum and dad.

I see them running toward me. Mum throws her arms around me, holding me close, and Dad’s voice breaks as he whispers, “Harry, it’s okay, it’s okay, we’re here.”

I bury my face in Mum’s shoulder. “I’m scared.” I whisper, and I feel her hand smoothing my hair.

And then I see the monster again, standing there quietly, just watching. It doesn’t say anything, but I know what’s happening, I know it’s here for me.

Everything is heavy.

Dad gives me permission to close my eyes and I do. They keep telling me it’s okay.

It doesn’t hurt, and I’m not scared, because I still have a little bit of hope.

And that’s what really saves us.