Adriana was five when her father brought them home.
“Adriana, sweetheart, I want you to meet someone very special.” Michael knelt beside her. “This is Mary. And this is her daughter, Dina.”
Mary smiled warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She was in her forties, soft-spoken and gentle. “Hello, Adriana. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Adriana studied her carefully. “Hi.”
Dina stood behind her mother—eighteen, beautiful, with long golden hair and striking blue eyes. Her face was blank. Emotionless.
“Say hello, Dina,” Mary prompted.
“Hello.” Dina’s voice was flat.
Mary laughed nervously. “She’s just shy.”
Over the next few weeks, Mary visited often. She baked cookies with Adriana. Read her bedtime stories. Braided her hair.
Adriana loved her.
One evening, Michael asked, “What would you think if Mary became part of our family? If I married her?”
Adriana’s face lit up. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Yes! I want Mary to be my mommy!”
Michael had been so careful. After Adriana’s mother left—unstable, unpredictable, gone to another city without looking back—he’d sworn to find someone who would truly love his daughter.
Mary seemed perfect.
The wedding was small. Sweet. Adriana wore a flower crown.
Mary and Dina moved in the following week.
That’s when the nightmares started.
Adriana woke screaming the first night.
Michael rushed to her room. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“There’s a monster!” She was sobbing, clutching her blanket. “In the hallway!”
Michael checked. Nothing there.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Just a bad dream.”
But it happened again the next night. And the night after that.
Adriana ran into his bedroom every night, crying, terrified. “The monster’s back, Daddy! Please!”
Mary was patient at first. She’d rock Adriana gently. “Shh, it’s okay. There’s no monster. You’re safe.”
But after two weeks of this, Mary’s smile looked strained.
“Michael, I think Adriana might need professional help.” Mary spoke carefully one morning. “This isn’t normal. The adjustment… it’s clearly affecting her.”
Michael frowned. “She was fine before.”
“Exactly. The change—us moving in—it’s too much for her.” Mary touched his arm. “I have a friend. A child psychologist. She’s wonderful. Maybe she can help Adriana process all this?”
Michael hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Let’s try.”
The psychologist was calm and professional. She met with Adriana three times, then called Michael in alone.
“Your daughter is struggling with the transition,” she explained. “On the surface, she’s accepted Mary and Dina. But subconsciously, there’s resistance. She’s manifesting anxiety through these monster visions.”
“What can we do?”
“Honestly? I think she needs to be somewhere familiar. Somewhere that feels safe.” The psychologist folded her hands. “Does she have other family? A grandmother, perhaps?”
Michael’s stomach sank. “My mother. But I don’t want to send Adriana away—”
“It’s temporary. Just until she stabilizes emotionally.”
Michael drove home in silence.
That night, Adriana came running again. “Daddy! The monster!”
“What does it look like, sweetheart?” Michael asked gently.
Adriana’s voice trembled. “Black hair. White face. No eyes.”
Michael froze.
Mary and Dina both had blonde hair. Golden blonde.
“Where did you see it?”
“In my doorway. Watching me.”
Michael carried her back to bed, his mind racing.
The next day, he told Mary about sending Adriana to his mother’s house.
Mary nodded sympathetically. “It’s probably for the best. Just until she adjusts.”
Michael hated the idea. But he started packing Adriana’s things.
That afternoon, he went to grab Adriana’s favorite stuffed bear from Dina’s room—she’d been playing with it earlier.
He opened Dina’s closet looking for it.
And found a black wig.
Long, straight, jet black.
His hands went cold.
He dug deeper. Behind a shoebox, he found a white plastic mask. Featureless. Smooth.
Black hair. White face.
Michael stood there, holding them, rage building in his chest.
He walked downstairs. Mary and Dina were in the kitchen.
He dropped the wig and mask on the counter.
“What the hell is this?”
Mary’s face went pale. Dina didn’t even blink.
“Michael, I can explain—”
“You’ve been terrorizing my daughter!” His voice shook. “You’ve been dressing up as a monster to scare her at night so I’d send her away!”
“Michael, please—”
“Was it your idea or hers?!” He pointed at Dina.
Mary’s mouth opened and closed. Then her face changed. The warmth drained away.
“Fine. You want the truth?” Her voice turned sharp. “We don’t need Adriana. We were fine without her. Our family was better without her!”
Michael stared at her, unable to breathe.
Mary’s hand flew to her mouth. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.” Michael’s voice was ice. “You planned this whole thing. The psychologist. The monster. All of it to get rid of my daughter.”
“I’ll talk to Dina,” Mary said quickly. “We’ll fix this—”
“Get out.”
“Michael—”
“Get out of my house!” He was shaking. “Both of you. Now.”
Mary’s eyes filled with tears, but Michael saw the calculation behind them. “You’re making a mistake—”
“The mistake was marrying you. Pack your things. I want you gone in an hour.”
Dina finally spoke, her voice flat. “Whatever.”
She walked upstairs like nothing had happened.
Mary followed, sobbing, begging, but Michael didn’t budge.
Sixty minutes later, they were gone.
That evening, Michael sat on Adriana’s bed.
“Baby, I need to tell you something.” He took her small hands. “I believe you. There was a monster. And it’s gone now.”
Adriana’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really. I found it and I made it leave. It won’t ever come back.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” He pulled her close. “And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you sooner. I should have. You were telling the truth the whole time.”
Adriana buried her face in his chest. “I was so scared, Daddy.”
“I know. But you don’t have to be anymore. I’m going to protect you. Always.”
That night, Adriana slept through until morning.
No nightmares. No monsters.
Michael filed for divorce the next week. Mary tried to fight it, claimed it was all Dina’s idea, that she didn’t know.
But Michael had already talked to the psychologist. Confirmed Mary had coached her on exactly what to say.
It had all been a setup from the beginning.
Six months later, the divorce was final.
Michael and Adriana moved to a new house. Fresh start. No ghosts.
One night, Adriana looked up from her drawing. “Daddy?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“I’m glad it’s just us.”
Michael smiled, kissed the top of her head. “Me too, baby. Me too.”
The girl who’d been called paranoid, sent to a psychologist, nearly shipped off to her grandmother’s—
Had been telling the truth all along.
And her father finally believed her.
The monsters were real.
And now they were gone.
