So when I was little, my upstairs looked like this, going up the stairs you come to a landing the has a 90 degree turn to the left. After those steps the bathroom is the right, and my brothers have their room directly across you. Then a left is a smallish hall way that leads to my mom's door, wich sits on the right side of you while facing to the end of the hall. Directly across from her door, is a small shelved closet which is normally locked as it was my mother's drug stash, with very little space between each shelf. The very end of the hall is my door.

The summer night was rather cold and gloomy, surprisingly typical for some of the summer months, and it was a Thursday night two weeks after school has ended. I just got out of fourth grade, I was excited but scared. My home life was always rough, and living with my mother was always horrible. And so I stared at my door every night, to make sure she never tried to sneak in and hurt me. My door didn't latch as it had been kicked down before, so I was always especially careful to look for the slightest movements and never fixate on the door knob.

My routine was standard this day, and I honestly expected her to burst through the door any second, as she was mad before she sent us all to our rooms. But it never happened, and I just sat. For what felt like hours I glued my eyes to the door and moonlight poured in through my blue curtains. The white door seemingly staring back. Until the trance like state is broken by a crash. And the creaking of a door from outside mine. My door broke open, and it let in the sight of my hallway. I raise my covers in hopes of not being noticed awake. But looking at the hallway, there's nothing to notice me. The closet door is just slightly ajar and I can tell because can't typically see the door knob of it from my bed. "No matter my mom is probably just going through her things and pushed on my door on accident?" I say to myself in my head. Whispering begins to fill my ears and a grotesque hand reaches around from behind the door and begins to pull it back out of sight. I cover my ears and hide under my blanket, and cry to myself it's not real.

I pass out, either of exhaustion or some other factor, and snap back awake in what feels like seconds and it's sun rise. Not quite 7AM but it's fairly close. And I jolted up to go look the closet.

To my horror, it still lay open. Just as I shut it my mom busted out of her room and thought I went through her stuff and she put me against the wall and ended up punching me in the stomach. While I cried to her I swear it was the man in the closet. My brothers never believed me either, and I don't know if I should believe it anymore either.