My son asked me to check the closet for monsters. I didn't need to.

I have three kids, and they’ve always been... normal. <br><br>They sleep in their bedrooms at night. My son in the upstairs bedroom, with his sister in the room next to him, then my youngest down the little hallway. I sometimes worry about her being so far from me, but she rather enjoy the independence and being far from her brothers snores. <br><br>My kids don’t talk to each other much either. They don’t like each other and don’t have much of a relationship. <br><br>Well, they don’t talk to each other, and nobody talks to me. <br><br>I used to be a pretty normal man. I used to have a normal life. But I stopped caring for my family a long time ago. I don’t remember exactly when it was that I gave up, but I do remember that my kids started acting… different, soon after. <br><br>My wife noticed it first, and she called up the doctor thinking they were suffering from a mass delusion or something. I think she was hoping it would just be diagnosed as an illness that could be treated with some pills, and life could go back to how it was. <br><br>I never actually said this, but I’m sure it was obvious to see that I wasn’t the best father or husband. I wasn’t the most supportive man, and I wasn’t the least abusive either. I was just… present. <br><br>My wife said I had a blank expression, staring at my kids with cold eyes, but my smile for them was warm and loving. <br><br>I guess you could say I was a hypocrite, doing better as a father than as a husband. But hey, I was still young and single when I met my wife. I didn’t know how to be a good husband, and I definitely didn’t know how to be a good father. <br><br>I always thought it would be enough, and that I could learn. But I was never given the chance. <br><br>My wife and I were in the living room one night, when our three kids were in bed, when we heard loud banging coming from upstairs. We both jumped and looked at each other before running up the stairs. <br><br>My wife started to call her kids, but before she could finish, I heard footsteps from my son’s room, followed by loud banging. I didn’t waste anymore time, and ran to my son’s room. I flung open the door, turning on the light and saw my son laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. <br><br>The banging I heard wasn’t coming from inside the room, but I knew he wasn’t responsible. My son had his nightlight on, which usually would have been enough to keep him company and calm him down, but he was obviously not in a happy state. His eyes were wide open, and he stared up at the ceiling like something was standing up there. <br><br>I turned around to check on my daughter’s room, but the door was locked from the inside. My daughter was screaming and crying inside. I tried to open the door, but I couldn’t. It was as if the door was stuck to the other side. <br><br>I tried to open it again, but to no luck. I started to bang on the door, yelling my daughter’s name, before I heard her scream from inside, asking me to stop. I stopped, and turned my attention to my son’s room again. <br><br>I walked over his bed, and sat down on it. I rubbed his shoulder, and said: “Hey buddy, everything is going to be alright. I’ll take care of it.” He nodded slightly, and looked down at the bed, his hands still gripping the blanket. <br><br>I leaned over him, and put my hand on his forehead. “I’ll take care of it.”<br><br>He nodded again, and after a moment, his expression calmed down. His grip on the blanket loosened, his eyes closed and his breathing slowed down. I left him, and ran back up the stairs to check on my daughter. <br><br>The banging noise from upstairs had stopped, but I heard something else coming from my youngest daughter’s room. I felt my heart pounding in my chest, and my palms were damp. I tried the door again, and this time I managed to open it. <br><br>I opened the door just a crack, peeking inside the room. My daughter was still laying in bed, but I couldn’t see her face because of the pillow covering it. She stopped crying and screamed as I opened the door, her voice was raw from crying. <br><br>I opened the door a little wider, and placed my hand on my daughter’s shoulder. I rubbed it a little, before I gently lifted the pillow covering her face, revealing her tears soaked cheeks. She was smiling at me, and I almost cried. I hadn’t cried in a long time, and I really wanted to. <br><br>I wanted to hold her, and tell her everything was going to be alright. But I didn’t. Instead, I closed the door again, just a crack. I heard her cry out again, and my heart broke. <br><br>I ran up the rest of the stairs, two at a time, to check the closet. I had a feeling what was going on, and if I was right, I had a solution already. I opened the door, and closed it behind me. <br><br>I had to search the closet, and I didn’t want my kids to hear anything. The closet wasn’t big, but it still took me a few minutes to find what I was looking for. I found two large boxes in the back of the closet. One was already open, but the other wasn’t. <br><br>I opened it carefully, not wanting whatever was inside to fall out or jump out at me. I carefully pulled out an old wooden chair, which I dragged over in front of the closet door. I placed the boxes under the chair as stepping stones, before pushing the chair in front of the door. <br><br>I dragged the chair back down the stairs, placed the boxes in the middle landing and dragged it up the remaining stairs to the attic. I placed the chair in front of the attic door, and dragged the boxes back down to the middle landing again. I placed the boxes under the chair again, before dragging it all the way back down to the ground floor. <br><br>The only solution I had was to isolate them from whatever it was. I had to keep it out, so I dragged the chair down to the laundry room and put it against the door. I dragged the boxes down the hall, placing one under the stairs and the other in the kitchen. <br><br>I had already placed two chairs against my wife’s bedroom door, and one against my son’s bedroom door before I went to check on my kids. I couldn’t find any monsters in my son’s room or my daughter’s room, but I knew whatever it was must be there. I didn’t need to search for it, I just knew it was. <br><br>I knew what it was, because I saw it the day I brought my oldest son home from the hospital. It was the day I stopped caring for my family, because I knew that something was wrong. Something had followed me home from the hospital that day, and it had settled in my son’s room. <br><br>The day I stopped caring.<br><br>*____________________*<br><br>I didn’t find any monsters that night, but I heard my kids screaming and crying non stop. It was like they were having a bad dream, and couldn’t wake up. I had to get some rest too, so I hoped they would be alright. I just had to keep them safe. <br><br>The next morning, my wife and kids were back to normal. They acted like nothing had happened the night before, and it was as if they didn’t remember the screams they heard from inside their rooms. They acted as if I had just sat on my son’s bed all night, talking to him, while I actually was out isolating the things from the rest of the house. <br><br>I was exhausted the next day, and my wife noticed. She asked if I was okay, and I just told her I was just tired. I guess it was the truth, because I just didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care about my family, and I didn’t care about myself. I just wanted it all to end. <br><br>The next night, I heard my kids screaming again. I couldn’t take it, so I just sat in the dark. I didn’t care if they woke me up or not, but they didn’t. They stopped screaming, and everything was back to normal again. <br><br>The next day, my wife asked me again if I was alright, and I told her I was just tired. She looked at me worriedly, but didn’t say anything more. I didn’t want her to. I didn’t want anything from her. I just wanted her to leave me alone.<br><br>That night, I heard my kids screaming again, but I didn’t care. I just sat in the dark, waiting for them to stop screaming. I think I heard glass breaking somewhere in the house, but I wasn’t sure. <br><br>It didn’t matter anyway. I just wanted it all to end. <br><br>A few days passed, and the screaming happened every night. My wife stopped asking me if I was alright, and started doing everything on her own. She took care of the house and the kids, and I just sat on my couch in the dark, waiting for it all to be over. <br><br>I didn’t know what was causing the screams, but I think it was just my kids being scared of whatever was in their rooms. It could’ve been an intruder, but I doubted it. I had isolated whatever was in the house from the rest of us, and nothing could get out. <br><br>I didn’t need to search for it. I already knew what it was. <br><br>My oldest son had a condition, and his brain wasn’t functioning properly. It