It’s not a monster. It’s my husband.
Just after I fell asleep, I watched the grainy low-lit form of the man I married 3 years ago stand in the doorway of our bedroom, staring at me. This went on for almost half an hour.
Then he sat at the edge of the bed. He pulled the blankets back and stroked the tops of my feet. Still, I was asleep.
He bent and pulled something out from underneath the mattress frame. It was a rag and a bottle. Eyes on me, he soaked the rag with the liquid from the bottle, then pressed it gently over my mouth and nose.