You hear a polite knock on the door . The closet door .

There was a polite knock at the door – the closet door. 
 
 Gregory sighed as he fumbled about clumsily in the dark, eventually managing to turn the light on. 
 
 He stood in the middle of a bedroom, with hasty drawings of unicorns and rainbows plastered all over the pink walls. Crayons and pencils were strewn about the room along with a vast assortment of dolls, plushies and coloring books. Gregory, to be succinct, looked out of place. He was quickly becoming an old man: streaks of grey lined his once thick, brown hair, and time had not been merciful in the way it had branded his face with a bevy of lines and wrinkles. The scars of age stood in stark contrast to Gregory ’ s surroundings. 
 
 He straightened his glasses and huffed as he noticed the bed, unmade. 
 
 *Why did I get her such frilly covers? There's no point to the look if she is n't going to make her bed anyway. * 
 
 Gregory made his way across the room towards the closet, taking great care not to step on any tacky pieces of plastic jewelry. He had carelessly trod on them before, and he faintly suspected that they were manufactured to wound and maim human beings, not to entertain them. He opened the door and looked down, squinting into the darkness. Lizzy, as she styled herself, looked up at him, clutching a pathetic-looking stuffed horse close to her chest. 
 
 `` Greggy,'' she said remorsefully, `` I got stuck in the closet again.'' 
 
 `` I can see that.'' Gregory responded, `` Is everything all right now?'' 
 
 `` Greggy,'' she said, `` I was scared.'' 
 
 He shifted uncomfortably. Gregory had never been a father, let alone a husband. He had never been privy to romance or children; the closest bond to another person he had ever had was that of a brother's, and Gregory bore the role uneasily. It was his brother's daughter that stood before him now, skittish and unsure. And Gregory had no idea how to deal with it. 
 
 `` Why did you hide in the closet Lizzy? You always get stuck in there anyway. A hiding place is only useful if you can leave it after you're done with your hiding business right?'' 
 
 Lizzy looked at him oddly. The little girl did n't have a pragmatic bone in her body, a fact that frustrated Gregory to no end. He took her hand and led her out of the closet, closing it softly behind her. 
 
 `` I thought I heard daddy come home. He's always angry after he comes home and it scared me.'' Lizzy explained. Gregory paused. His brother had been dead for a year now, but it was obvious enough that he had left much damage in his wake. Lizzy showed Gregory the stuffed horse, `` I tried to ride Billy away this time, but he did n't do anything.'' The horse seemed to look miserably at Gregory with its one remaining button eye. 
 
 *What kind of child hides in a dark closet? Is n't every kid afraid of dark closets? * 
 
 Gregory had the same thought each time he saved Lizzy from her self-inflicted imprisonment, and he always had the same, uncomfortable answer: imaginary monsters are nothing compared to real ones. 
 
 It was obvious enough to Gregory. He had watched his brother's condition deteriorate gradually after his wife died. No one else had noticed the downward trend until it was too late: Gregory's brother was found dead in the street one lonely morning with more alcohol in his veins than blood. 
 
 `` Daddy's really scary when he's angry. He's always breaking stuff and yelling naughty words.'' Lizzy said, `` Sometimes, if he sees me, he'll - `` Gregory knelt, tugging at Lizzy's messy pajamas in an attempt to straighten them out. 
 
 *Speak no ill of the dead. * 
 
 `` Lizzy, have you ever heard of the gentle slope to hell?'' 
 
 `` Mom told me that hell is a naughty word, and I should n't say it. But there's a slope behind our house! I do n't think it's very gentle though. I fell down it once and it hurt kind of bad'' Lizzy said. She always had a lot to say to Gregory. 
 
 `` Are n't you afraid of the dark?'' 
 
 She cocked her head to the side, `` The dark never says naughty words or breaks things. Why would I be afraid of the dark?'' There is no need to invent a fear when you have real ones. 
 
 Gregory tugged on Lizzy's hand, guiding her towards the bed, `` It's time to sleep.'' She pursed her lips, pouting, but she did as she was told. She climbed into her uselessly frilly bed, ruffling her pajamas again. 
 
 `` Good night Greggy,'' she said, turning over to rest. Gregory trembled slightly as he looked at her prone form. 
 
 *There is no need to invent a fear when you have real ones. * 
 
 Gregory had been afraid of other people; relationships, to him, were wounds waiting to happen. People rejected each other, fought each other, angered one another, and killed others because of it. Gregory wanted no part in it. He did n't want to turn out like his brother, alone and dead in some God-forsaken street because his wife killed herself. He did n't want to be at the mercy of someone else. 
 
 But those fears did n't matter. They were things that Gregory had made for himself. What mattered was the little girl in front of him, sleeping as if she knew no tragedy or hardship. 
 
 *I have no idea how to take care of this girl. I am scared to be involved with her. But even that does n't matter. * 
 
 Gregory looked down as he turned away, stepping squarely on an over sized plastic ring. He bit his tongue as he swallowed back the torrent of naughty words that threatened to erupt from his throat, if only for Lizzy's sake. He took a moment to reorient himself before limping towards the door. 
 
 *The thing I really fear is Lizzy not living happily. I have no business fleeing my phantoms when her life is at stake. * 
 
 Gregory paused at the doorway, looking back one more time at his surrogate daughter. He turned the light off before leaving, melting away into the murky twilight of the corridor beyond. 
 

