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The switch went off and Hugo opened his eyes.
The kid sat up. The sudden movement made his head dizzy, so he clung to his blanket, small fingers squeezing the soft fabric. He drew some long breaths, then he coughed a little. His last cough turned into a small sob.
He reached to the glass of water on the bedside table and took a sip, then he sighed and laid down again, pulling the blanket up to his nose.
He closed his eyes. Tried very hard not to think about the nightmare he just had.
Of course, that only made it flash more vivid into his memory.
the world was made of colors and square, tidy shapes. Flamingo pink buildings, a sea made of plastic and all the sugar and candy he could ever want. A weird man with a mask meowed and asked if he wanted to buy a ticket to bring him luck, and a white cat laughed and then cried, searching for his brother. But Hugo had other things to worry about. His dad was there, and he needed help, Hugo had to guide him, underground in the mines and through the library, because there were ghosts to fight, and ghouls and flying heads, and...
stop thinking about it stop thinking about it stop
a giant mister smiled happily and then roared in rage, the colors were all gone now, everything was white, just like the hospital, those long corridors and tall people with worried faces and blank faces and scary faces, and Hugo remembered the pain into his bones and into his lungs, and the voices from the other room, mom and dad were talking, angrily, to each other, and Hugo just wanted them to stop, please, he would behave, he would be such a good child, just let him go back home and his mom and dad hug and be happy...
stop it
But his dad had to fight, now, there were more monsters, and then mom was there and the only color was red, the strawberries on the cake for Hugo's birthday that had been left on the table because they had to take him to the hospital, and a monster had stolen the place of his dad, a huge mouth and sharp fangs, about to end the whole world, and Hugo was scared, so scared...
STOP
The boy jumped up again, he pressed his balled fists over his eyes, chasing away what little sleepiness it was left. He stood up and ran to the switch next to the door, but he stopped right before turning the light on.
What if the monster that had taken the place of his dad was in the house?
He shook his head. That thought was silly, he wasn't a small child anymore, he wasn't afraid of monsters, because monsters didn't exist. He was just... agitated because of the nightmare. It wasn't the first time he had one, his mom had explained him ages ago all nightmares disappeared in the morning, so there was nothing to worry about.
His mother wasn't there, though
The monster in his dream had slaughtered her
would you stop thinking about that
and outside it was still night. He glanced around nervously. In the dim light the familiar shapes of the wardrobe and the bookshelves, of the chest filled with toys and the small table covered by stacks of drawings, turned into foreign shadows. Into specters and ghosts.
Hugo took a deep breath. His eyes settled on the baseball bat leaning next to the door. It had belonged to his dad, from the time when he was a professional player, before the accident. He had given it to him many years ago, when Hugo was just as tall as the bat. The child had taken to drag the bat anywhere, crying when the people at the hospital wouldn't let him keep it in his bed, falling asleep hugging it like a teddy bear any time he was allowed to. His dad had promised him he would have taken him out to play baseball, when Hugo was stronger, he had repeated his promise with a croaked voice, holding Hugo's hand right before the operation, while his mom nodded, her eyes lucid.
And he kept his promise. They went out to play, the three of them together, and even if mom really couldn't play, and Hugo became tired after a very short time, it had been such fun...!
The bat his dad the creature that looked like his dad wielded in the dream was white, stained with red. This one was made of wood, smooth to the touch, safe. Hugo grabbed it and he pushed the door open, entering the dark corridor.
He needed to make sure his parents were ok.
--–
Hugo walked down the corridor, keeping his right hand to the wall, drawing a soft touch on the framed pictures hanged on it as he passed them by. His left hand held securely the bat, dragging it behind him on the carpet. He stopped in front of the half-closed bedroom door, pressed the tip of the bat under the handle, and pushed it open to peek inside. The curtains were pulled, and moonlight casted a low shine over the room, and the empty, made bed.
The boy felt his throat go dry. He stared at the bed, as he could somehow will his parents to appear there, peacefully sleeping. Finally he backed in the corridor, leaving the door open. He clutched the bat to his chest, something to hold onto, and his eyes searched frantically around the dark house. The images from his nightmare felt like a solid presence, right behind him
men in white lab coat, their heads exploded in smoke
right past the corner of his eye, shapes on the prowl ready
dolls who watched him with lifeless eyes
to lunge at him. He felt tears welling up in his eyes.
Then his brain registered the faint light coming from down the stairs. He moved towards it, away from the ghosts in the dark. His bared feet made no sound on the wooden stairs. Once on the ground floor, he moved towards the light in the living room.
The television was on, muted, showing some kind of sport event. Hugo ignored it, as all his attention was drawn to the shape of his father, sitting on the couch, his head reclined back and an arm draped over his face as he breathed deeply, asleep. The intermittent light from the screen washed over him.
Hugo felt wary relief bubbling into his throat, but he couldn't move. His feet were like glued to the floor and he couldn't stop picturing the scene. He would wake him and the monster would come out, the monster had eaten his dad from the inside
like the illness, it ate you from the inside out
it would come out and eat everything.
He didn't realize he was relenting his hold on the bat till it slipped between his arms, and hit the carpeted floor with a soft thud.
His dad shifted a little, then he pulled the arm away from his face and looked around, sleepiness clinging to his eyes. His gaze fell on Hugo, and immediately became warmer. The man smiled.
“Hey, champion.” he said.
This time Hugo felt relief explode inside himself. His dad was there, there were no monsters that could hurt them.
He ran to his father, climbing on the couch next to him and throwing his arms around him. The man wrapped an arm around his son, scratching his own head with his free hand, still feeling somehow drowsy. He glanced around, and noticed the numbers on the digital clock on the wall. Almost three a.m. He sighed. He had planned to stay up and wait for his wife, then when Vader had messaged him to say her plane was delayed he had decided to watch the end of the game on telly and then go to bed... it looked like he had fallen asleep on the couch like a baby.
Hugo was shaking a little and the man frowned, realizing the kid was crying, small sobs muffled against the man's t-shirt.
“What's wrong, Hugo?” he asked.
Hugo didn't reply, he just pressed his face harder against his dad's chest, so the man hugged him tight and let him cry his heart out. There had been so many times in the past when the man had been afraid to hold his son like that, afraid hugging him too hard could hurt him. Hugo had been so frail... he still was, in many ways. But he was also slowly growing stronger, even if the illness would never let completely go of his small body, he was going to be better.
Finally, the sobbing quieted and the kid sniffed once, loudly. He looked up to his father.
“I was afraid the monster had t-taken away you and mom...” He stuttered. “You... there were ghosts, and you weren't you anymore, and, and I was scared...” As he spoke, the images filled his mind again, but now they weren't as threatening anymore. His father's closeness waved them off like puffs of dust and smoke, and Hugo felt all his fears had disappeared. The man held him close for long moments, rubbing a hand on his back in a gentle motion, until he could feel Hugo was calm enough.
“Everything's all right. Mom will be back soon.” The man said and Hugo nodded. He had almost blown his nose on his dad's t-shirt .He pulled back a little. Now that the fear was gone he was feeling embarrassed.
“Nightmares are stupid...” he mumbled.
His father chuckled. “They aren't something to fear. And they can be useful too.” He craned his neck. “You saved me from a stiff neck and from...” He glanced at the television. “... dreams about curling.” He shivered.
Hugo laughed a little, making the heart of the man who once had been a batter warm up. Father and son hugged in silence for some more time, before the man stood up, lifting Hugo on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, making Hugo burst into a surprised laugh, and started walking to the kitchen.
“Well, you know what three in the morning is time for? Hot chocolate.”
“Really?!”
“Indeed. Unless you want to go back to sleep right away...”
“Nope! Can I have marshmallows too?!”
“We will see...”
–--
Vader closed the door behind her back and dropped her bag on the floor with a tired sigh. This business trip had been a real nightmare. She hanged her coat and slipped off her shoes, leaving them in the hallway, craving only a warm shower and then bed...
As she passed by the living room door she stopped and did a double take. She entered the room, walked in front of the couch and crossed her arms, taking in the scene beside her with a raised eyebrow.
Her husband was sitting on the couch, with their son cuddling against his side, an arm wrapped protectively around the small frame. They were sound asleep. On the floor there were two mugs, encrusted with chocolate, and a couple of sheet of paper, covered with Hugo's drawing. In one of them she saw something resembling a big duck (with teeth) dressed like a baseball player.
Vader snorted. “When the cat's away...”
She shook her head, decided she was too tired to deal with those impossible guys, and sat down on the couch too, collecting her legs under her and sneaking her arms around the other two. She leaned so that her head was resting on her husband's shoulder and closed her eyes. As she succumbed to sleep she felt him move slightly to better accommodate her.
Hugo shifted, his hands came to rest over his mother's and father's ones, holding on them, and he smiled into his dream.