Short Scary Stories

Bedtime

This one isn't too scary, and I feel it's an overused plot, but I have another one coming up that might be better. Ignore the bad quality of the picture for this story. I'm making one for each story, and I don't know what's up with the app I use. Comment what you think of this one. Thanks.
This is NOT edited yet.
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Mary tucked her son into bed for the third time that night. He had refused to stay in bed all night and kept getting up, but she refused to let him have his way. He had school in the morning, and he wasn't the best first grader out there, so he needed sleep so he could focus getting his grades up.
"Mama, let me stay up a little longer," he said with a pout.
"No, it's an hour past your bedtime. You've had water, gone to the bathroom, and I've read you a story. Time to sleep," she demanded, looking at his clock that said it was nearly ten at night.
She pulled up his sports-themed covers to his chin and tucked the sides in snuggly, hoping it would prevent him from getting out. He pouted, and she was about to go nuts. He had always been a handful since he was a baby, but now she could blame him for it. He was becoming his own person and he had to take responsibility for his actions.
"Wipe that pout off your face and close your eyes before I pop you in the mouth," she said.
He stopped pouting. His mother meant it when it came to hitting him. She didn't take any nonsense, especially not late at night. She was tired and ready for bed herself, but it seems her son wouldn't let her sleep. So he closed his eyes and tried to ignore his fear of his bedroom.
With a sigh, his mother shut off the light and left the room. She went down the hall and went to her own room to finally get some shut eye. She crawled into her warm bed and flipped the switch, plunging her into darkness.
As she was finally slipping into sleep, she was snapped out by a cry coming from the end of the hall. Frustrated, she pushed the covers off and stomped down the hall to her son's room, where he sat in bed, gripping the covers tightly in his shaking hands. She turned on his bedside lamp.
"What is it now?" She asked with a low and annoyed voice.
"The lady!" He cried, pointing to his closet door, which was closed.
Mary huffed and cursed under her breath. She started to believe her son was schizophrenic. He claimed a lady came out of his closet and night and stayed by his bed all night long, watching him sleep, that is, if he did sleep. He said that she had long, black hair that fell down her shoulders. Her eyes were nothing but black circles, hollow and deep. He told his mother that she only left when the sun came up, when morning came.
"There is no lady!" She shouted at the top of her lungs.
She laid him down again and tucked him into the warm bed. As she was bent over the bed, tucking in the sides and fluffing his pillow, she heard the closet door creak open.
"She's back."