In the Dark

He has always been afraid of the dark.

It starts when he is young, when he feels like something watches him after he turns off the lights.  He huddles under the sheets, staying awake for hours only to have terrifying nightmares when he falls asleep.  The dark is a common enough fear for young children, so his parents simply buy him a nightlight and wait for him to grow out of it.  Except that he never grows out of it.  The night terrors continue and the shadows dance on the wall; the presence watches him, instilling deep terror in his mind whenever he can sense it.

He keeps the nightlight until he’s thirteen, when he tells himself it’s all in his head and it’s time to stop being scared of his own room.  Figuring the best way to cure his fear is complete immersion, he unplugs the nightlight before bed.  He doesn’t sleep at all that first night.  Perhaps the nightlight did keep that presence at bay because now it is all around him, the darkness is surrounding him, suffocating him, and he can’t even bring himself to close his eyes.

He has to force himself to do without the nightlight the next night, and the next, and the next.  It takes weeks, but it starts to get better; he beings to feel safe falling asleep.

As time goes on, his fear diminishes.  The presence that watches him appears less frequently, as if it has gotten bored.  Those nights when it does return are often the most intense, but he is able to cope because of the span between their occurrences.  For five years, his nights fall into a pattern of quiet, deep sleeps interspersed with absolute terrors and he accepts this as something with which he has to deal.

He’s eighteen when a post on Facebook catches his attention.  Normally, he just scrolls past things his friends share, but this one gives him pause: As soon as you turn the lights off start masturbating. No monster wants to see that shit. While doing it, stare at the corner and whisper, tenderly, “This is for you.”  Oh.

It’s just supposed to be a funny thing – and, on the surface, it is – but to Jack it could be the answer to dispelling his fears.  Just because they have gotten easier to manage does not mean he wants to continue living with them.  He’s willing to attempt anything to be rid of his fear and the presence.  What does he have to lose by doing this?  If there is something there this will scare it off; if there isn’t anything there then he’s just jacking off.  As a teenage boy, masturbation is a normal occurrence, so that’s not a problem, though he’s used to doing it with the lights on – even that is something he’s too afraid to do in the dark.

It’s with that thought in his mind and apprehension in his heart that he turns off the lamp next to his bed, plunging his room into darkness.  As he draws his hand back from the switch, he grabs the box of tissues sitting on the nightstand to place nearby on the bed.  He sits against the headboard in the dark for several minutes, mentally talking himself into following through with his plan.  He is by no means embarrassed by his own body, but the possibility that the presence will be watching makes him hesitate.  He tells himself this is something he has to do; it will reassure him that there really isn’t anything to fear.  He mulls it over for a while, debating with himself.

Caught up in his musings, he starts to nod off, slumping down against the headboard.  A familiar fear invades his mind, tendrils of it wrapping around his brain and pressing in . . .

He jerks to full consciousness.  That’s definitely the presence.  The fear isn’t as overwhelming as it was a few seconds ago, but he can still feel it lurking in the background.  Pushing himself up, he makes up his mind.

He slips his boxers down his legs and leaves them near the end of the bed.  His eyes stare blindly into the darkness of his room as he spits on his palm and takes his cock in his hand.  As he starts to stroke himself, he searches the inky black in front of his eyes for a hint of something, anything, but the dark is impenetrable.  He still feels the deep rooted fear and it distracts him from completely enjoying the movement of his hand.  Trying to focus on that, he drops his head back, whispering, “This is for you.”