Cuddles

I opened the door to Bella’s bedroom, cursing as I stepped on one of her blocks. 

The room was dark, lit only by the night light, which projected safari animals on the walls, twirling round and round. Bella stood upright, hanging onto the handrails of her crib.

“Daddy, I wanna cuddle,” she repeated.

“Okay, okay,” I said softly, rubbing sleep out of my eyes. I picked her up under her arms and brought her to my chest. She is so big now, I thought. Not the little creature chewing on her hands when we brought her back from the hospital. No this can’t be that same baby.

I collapsed into the creaking rocking chair in the corner of the room, cradling Bella to my chest. She was wearing a matching set of pyjamas with purple owls on them. It had shrunk in the wash, the cuffs now came up to the crook of her elbow. Bella’s eyes were half closed in the sleepy dazed way only kids could achieve. She would fall back asleep shortly, I knew. I pushed a strand of hair off her forehead.

I cuddled with her, my eyelids growing heavy as I rocked back and forth.

Creak.

I could feel Bella’s warmth against my bare chest. She felt scalding, almost feverish. But she was like her mom and turned into a furnace when she slept.

Creak.

I had almost slipped back to sleep when Bella’s voice spoke quietly. 

“Daddy, I’m scared,” she said.

Creak.

I jolted awake. Looking at her small face in the dim light as the projected animals danced around us.

“Why are you scared?”

“In my bed,” she said, pointing one small hand to her crib.

Creak.

I stood up, cradling Bella.

“What’s in your bed?”

“Monster,” she whispered, cuddling closer.

I sighed. This was one of her many stalling techniques.

“Look, there’s no monster in your - ” I broke off, staring into the crib.

Bella lay there, tangled in her blankets. Her bunny stuffy clutched tightly, and she was fast asleep.

My brain split in two, trying to process two controversial pieces of information. I stood there, frozen in place, staring at my daughter snoring softly as she slept.

“Daddy?” The thing cradled in my arms said, its voice deepening as if it were echoing up from a deep cavern.

“Don’t you want to cuddle with meeeee?” It said, voice deepening to a growl.

I let out a soft whimper, trying to look down, but my body refused to listen. Millimetre by millimetre I shifted my gaze to the thing masquerading as my daughter. My heart was beating so loud I could hear it. A rapid thumpthumpthumpthumpthump.

The thing still looked like Bella, except her eyes burned red in their sockets. Like the pilot light of a furnace. And her mouth was all wrong. Her goofy smile had been replaced by row on row of jagged, crooked teeth that a shark would envy.

Every inch of me wanted to scream. To cast this thing away and run. But I couldn’t move. Her arms stretched, impossibly long. Her tiny hand extended into long jagged claws that dug into my back hard enough to draw blood.

“There’s no need to be afraid Daddy. I just want to cuddle.”