This story deals with Nightmares, a monster attack, fear, anxiety, guilt, shame and bed wetting. There is nothing sexual in this story. If you do not like or cannot handle these topics please leave now or use your blacklist. It is nobody's responsibility but your own to make sure you don't see things you can't handle here.

Nightmares

Dexter laid alone in his bed, his eyes shut tight as he tried to sleep. It was a windy night, and the 12 year old squirrel couldn't help but jump and jolt in surprise at every little creak and groan he heard throughout the house and outside. Every tap of a branch against the side of the house made his heart race faster and faster as he struggled to compose himself. 
This was a near nightly occurrence lately. Nightmares making the young boy afraid to sleep, his overactive mind making him overthink every little sound he heard at night and making him afraid to stay awake. He didn't know what was wrong, he didn't know why everything scared him so much now. 
“Come on, Dexter. You're too old to be afraid of the dark. You're too old to be wetting the bed. What the hell is wrong with you. Just ignore it. Just sleep. Just close your eyes and sleep.” he scolded himself in his head, squeezing his eyes tighter. The wind picked up outside, howling louder and louder in the poor boy's ears causing him to jump again as he imagined the sound coming from an unseen creature in the darkness. “You don't need the nightlight. You're 12, you're almost a teenager. Grow up. Grow up. Grow up!” 
A creak from his closet forced him to sit up, his heart racing harder and harder as he remembered the scary stories his older brother Dennis used to torment him with. Horrible creatures with blank, soulless, bloodshot eyes hiding in the darkness with long, spindly limbs like spider legs that could reach out and cut you at any moment, lurking under the bed or in the closet or anywhere you couldn't see, always just out of view. Stories of bad little boys and girls going missing in the night because part of them wasn't covered by the blanket while they slept.
Dexter sat up and wrapped himself fully in his blanket, only the top half of his head uncovered so he could look around the room. He knew there was nothing really there, he knew it was just his mind playing tricks on him. He tried to steady his breathing until he felt a tickle on his neck, almost screaming out loud as he struggled to free his arm from his blanket to swat at the stray hairs that tickled at him. 
Tonight was bad. Every night felt worse and worse lately, but he'd never been this afraid at night. Not in all the times he struggled to sleep, not in all his awful nightmares had he felt this on edge before bed. He turned his head towards his nightstand, wanting to grab his phone until another gust of howling wind made his fur stand on end and made him too afraid to move. He swore he could hear pained screams as the wind blew through the neighborhood, slowly fading as the sound echoed in his mind, such a horrible wailing sound playing on repeat and making his mind wander to the awful events that would cause such a sound to escape someone. 
A movement at the edge of his vision forced him to turn his head as he watched his closet door slowly creak open. He fought to stay quiet as he broke out into a cold sweat, his heart beating hard in his chest, feeling like it was ready to bust out and flop straight onto the bed. “It's not real. It's not real. You're imagining it, it's just the wind. There's nothing there. Calm down calm down calm down calm down!” he screamed to himself in his mind as he struggled to breathe, hearing the old hinges creek more and more as the closet door opened wider and wider. 
The young squirrel's eyes were wide open and focused on the subtle movement that started to poke out around the door. What looked like a hundred fingers slowly curling around the edge of the door slowly grew longer and thinner, sharpening into terrifying slender points as they began to scrape against the wood, the sound echoing through the young boy's mind as he watched the door open further, a figure slowly appearing to crawl out of his closet. He couldn't make out any details yet, only a dark figure slowly moving in the near pitch blackness of his room. 
Dexter felt strange. Not just afraid, but wrong. Something was going on, and he didn't want to find out what it was. His brain screamed at him to get up and run away, but his body refused to listen as he sat in his bed and trembled in fear as the figure twisted and contorted, oh so painfully slowly moving closer to the boy. His imagination was never this real, never this vivid. He couldn't explain this away as just his mind playing tricks on him as the figure reached the end of his bed and one of those long, sharp fingers pressed down on his mattress making it sink towards it.
He heard the sound of ragged, wheezing breaths coming closer and closer as the figure moved towards him, more spindly appendages pressing on his bed and causing the frame to creak and shift under the weight. The squirrel was paralyzed as a pair of white eyes slowly faded into view, blood red veins wriggling around in them like a living spiderweb as the face became clearer and clearer. The creature had no mouth, yet the sound of pained breathing clearly came from it as it got louder and louder, causing the young rodent's ears to twitch even as he sat unable to move any other part of his body.
A warm breath blew across Dexter's face, reeking of sulfur. His stomach churned as the awful odor grew from the horrible figure in front of him, the creatures limbs slowly pressing themselves down around him on the bed, surrounding him, trapping him in place as the face came closer still. Its eyes were blank, nothing in them but those awful, writhing veins until suddenly the creature stopped, the red spiderwebs in its eyes falling fully still as well. 
The smell of sulfur changed, no longer reeking of eggs and now smelling of pain and fear. He didn't know why he knew that smell, but his brain screamed he smelled danger. He watched a mouth slowly form on the black void of the creatures face, pearly white fangs glowing brightly in the darkness of the room as the moonlight from the window failed to light anything anymore. The air was still, and the only sounds to be heard were the pounding of Dexter's heart and the horrible, awful wheezing breaths from the spider-like creature. 
Dexter sat and watched with his eyes opened wide, waiting for it to do something, anything at all. It just sat and stared, perfectly still until those glowing white fangs slowly started to drip bright red as the smell of rotting meat invaded the young child's nose. He wanted to gag, but he couldn't. He couldn't force himself to move no matter how hard he tried, panicking as he tried to scream only to no longer be able to even feel his mouth. 
He tried to focus on the sounds around him as he noticed the room go completely quiet, unable to hear even his heartbeat as his senses began to fail him. His ears were gone, he could no longer feel them twitching on top of his head. He tried to take a deep breath only to notice he couldn't breathe. His nose was gone, unable to take a breath as he felt is lungs begin to burn in his chest and beg for air, for any semblance of relief as those awful eyes stared at him until his own vision faded. The last thing he saw was the horrible beasts mouth opening, its dripping fangs quickly growing several inches and rapidly moving towards him as his vision went blank. He felt a sharp, intense pain in his neck before a warm wetness formed around his waist.
“AAAAAH NONONONONO GO AWAY GET AWAY PLEHEHEASE NOOOOO I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING LEAVE ME ALOHOHOOOOONE!” he screamed as the sound of his own voice woke him up, his bedroom light nearly blinding him as his eyes shot open. He sobbed and looked around, confused as he saw his parents standing over him, his mother looking terrified and his father looking furious. 
“You're too fucking old to keep pulling this shit, Dexter. Grow up! I have to fucking work in the mornings and I can barely get any god damn sleep with you screaming and crying like a fucking infant every night! You're 12 years old for fuck sake, ACT LIKE IT!” His father yelled as he turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him as he stomped back to his own bed.
“I-i'm s-s-sorry!” He cried out as he heard his parents bedroom door slam shut. He looked to his mother as she crouched down in front of him, his vision blurry as tears flooded down his face and soaked into his cheeks. “I thought- i-i-it was so real, I was so s-scared. I-i-i d-didn't-” he was cut off as his mother held up a finger to silence him.
“Shhhh, it's okay sweetheart. I know, I know. Trust me, I know. Come here, Dexter.” she said calmly as he sat up. She leaned over to him and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, one hand going to the back of his head to gently pet him down the length of his long, dark gray hair. “It's okay baby.”
Dexter hugged her back, still sobbing hard as she comforted him. “I-it was so scary. Like a giant spider. I couldn't scream, I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe…” he whispered out as he finally started to regain control of himself. “W-why is this happening to me? Why is almost every night like this? Why am I b-broken?” he asked as a new wave of tears and sobs hit him.
His mother continued to hold him tightly and pet his hair, quietly shushing him and fighting back her own tears. “Shhhhh sweetheart. Stop it. You're not broken, okay? I know what you're going through, I went through the same thing. I don't know why, I don't know what started it, but I had the same problem when I was your age. I know it's scary, and it's embarrassing, and I know your father getting mad at you for it doesn't help. Come here. Lets get you something to calm down.” 
Dexter felt his mother throw his blanket off of him and pull him to the edge of the bed, helping him catch his bearings as he stood and felt the air of his room cool uncomfortably against his wet crotch. “Oh. I-I wet the bed again.” he whimpered out, looking down at the floor in shame as his tears dripped off his face and soaked into the carpet. 
“Hey, look at me.” his mother urged as she crouched down to eye level with him. “Look at me, Dexter. Come on.” she whispered calmly as she gently placed her hands on his cheeks to move his head towards her. Her heart sank like a brick in her chest at the look of shame and devastation in the young boy's eyes. “Oh, honey...it's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. These things happen, okay? It's not your fault.”
“I j-just want to be n-n-normal. W-why can't I just be normal?” he stammered out between sobs as he felt his mothers arms wrap around him again.
“Hey, calm down, Dexter. You're ok, everything's ok. Just relax, breathe. Grab some clean clothes and go take a shower, okay? I'll toss your wet clothes and bedding in the wash and make us a little treat, yeah? Then we can just sit and talk. I'm off today, and it's almost time to wake up anyway. Just breathe sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” she asked softly, gently rubbing the tears from his eyes with her thumbs.
The young squirrel sniffled one last time before slowly nodding his head and wiping his eyes. He pulled away from his mother's hands and headed to his dresser to grab a clean set of pajamas before grabbing his towel and heading out to the bathroom while trying to steady his breathing and calm down. He heard his bedroom door close as he turned the water on in the tub, quickly stripping out of his wet pajamas and setting them outside the bathroom door for his mother to take as she walked by with his damp bedding.
Dexter stepped into the tub and tested the water before pulling the knob to turn on the shower, hissing uncomfortably at the brief shot of residual cold water from the shower head that hit his fur. He took a deep breath as the water warmed him up, quickly sticking his head under the stream to wet his hair. The face of the creature from his dream flashed through his mind, those white eyes staring back at him every time he blinked as he turned to grab his shampoo off the edge of the tub.
Dexter's mother stood in the kitchen waiting for the coffee pot to finish brewing as she made a cup of hot chocolate and toasted some frozen waffles. She felt a pain in her heart as she remembered her son's terrified cries for help and the look of horror on his face as he screamed himself awake from his dream. It was getting worse, and happening more and more frequently. She wanted so badly to help, to make all the pain and fear go away, but she was out of ideas. Nothing ever seemed to help, and whenever there was a small stretch of time where it seemed to get better, it always came back worse than before.
She flinched as the coffee machine beeped, lost in her own mind as it finished brewing. She quickly grabbed a cup and filled it, taking a sip as she heard the squeak of the tub faucet turning off. She sat at the table and waited for Dexter, slowly sipping her coffee as he rounded the corner in his clean red and black plaid pajamas, still drying his hair with his towel as he sat across from her. 
“I-I'm sorry for waking you up again.” the young squirrel stammered out, barely above a whisper as he looked down at table in shame. He heard his mother stand up and walk across the kitchen as tears began to well up in his eyes again while he waited for any kind of admonishment to come his way. He looked up slightly when he heard her sit back down, his lips curling slightly into a subtle smile as he watched her slide a small plate of waffles and a cup of hot chocolate towards him.
“Just eat your breakfast, okay? We can talk when you're done.” she said before taking another sip of her coffee, sitting silently as he picked up a fork and started eating.
Dexter's mind raced with guilt. He knew his nightmares weren't just his problem, they were his parent's problem as well. Every time he screamed himself awake or smacked against the wall thrashing in his sleep and woke them up at night, every time he opened his eyes to see them standing over him, his heart just sank with shame. He hated himself more and more every day, and every time the nightmares got worse, so did his guilt for being broken, for being born wrong. 
The young squirrel quietly sniffled as he ate his waffles, grateful for his mother making him breakfast despite having been woken up so early. He sipped his coco between bites, his ears twitching slightly every time he heard his mother sip her coffee. He could feel the tears beginning to well up in his eyes again as he finished his breakfast and watched the older woman silently take his plate to the sink, quickly rinsing it and gesturing for him to go to the living room.
Dexter sat on the couch, hugging his knees to hide his face as his mother came and sat next to him, flinching slightly in surprise as he felt her hand gently run down his head. He fought hard to hold back his tears as she leaned into him and hugged him from the side. “Why am I like this? W-why am I broken? It's s-so hard to sleep, it's always so scary, I-I don't know why.” he stuttered out shakily as his tears began to fall, his voice muffled by his legs from how he sat.
His mother squeezed him tightly, struggling to hold back her own tears as she listened to her son's small, shaky voice plead for answers she couldn't give him. “I don't know, sweetheart. I don't know why it happens, it just does. You're not broken. It'll get better, I promise. It might take a while, but it will get better, okay?” she felt him nod softly as she finished, giving him another squeeze as they sat huddled together on the couch. “Do you want to talk about what you saw? It might help.”
Dexter sniffled loudly and nodded again, lifting his head away from his knees and wiping his eyes with his arm. “I don't even r-remember falling asleep. I thought I was still awake, it was so real. I-i was trying to sleep, but I couldn't because the wind was so loud. It s-sounded like screaming, like someone was hurt real bad. I k-kept trying to close my eyes but then I heard my closet door a-and I just couldn't move…” he paused to wipe his eyes and sniffle again.
He felt his mother hug him tighter before pulling away. “C'mere sweetie, lay down.” she said as she scooted over and tapped her thigh. Dexter quickly adjusted himself to lay his head on her lap, sighing softly as she began to pet his head. 
Dexter took a minute to breathe before he continued. “Do you remember those s-scary stories Dennis used to tell when I was little? A-about the bad kids who'd go missing at night because a monster got them when they didn't have their blanket covering them? It was like one of those monsters h-he used to talk about.”
“Yeah, I remember. I remember getting mad at him a lot for telling you those stories. I remember grounding him a lot for scaring you. I remember you crying a lot because you didn't want to get taken.” she replied with a quiet laugh. “Your brother was a shit head. Still is.” 
Dexter couldn't help but laugh a little at his mother's words. “I agree, he's definitely a shit head.” the young squirrel said, giggling as he felt his mother lightly tap is head with her hand in playful warning for swearing. “Haha, I know I know, no bad words.” 
Dexter curled up more, getting comfortable as he reached for the remote and turned on the TV before quickly turning the volume down. “Mom? A-am I bad? I-I don't want to be bad…” he asked with a clear sadness in his voice.
“No, Dexter, you're not bad. Your brain is just being mean is all. You're a good kid, no matter what your brain tells you. I promise.” 
Dexter's mother grabbed the remote from the young boy's hand, changing to his favorite channel to see what cartoons were on this early in the morning. She sat and comforted him until she heard a door opening and spotted the boy's father coming down the hall. She shot the man an angry glare, his face instantly transforming into one of guilt as his shoulders slumped. 
Dexter was barely conscious when his father gently shook him, feeling a gentle squeeze on his shoulder as he opened his eyes to see the man face to face. “I'm sorry I yelled at you again, buddy. I know you can't help it. We've both got some things we need to work on, yeah?” he said as he leaned in and placed a kiss on the side of the boy's head.
“It's okay. S-sorry I woke you up again.” he said as he sat up and hugged the man before he pulled away and laid back down. He heard his dad lean over to kiss his mother before he turned and left for work, softly closing the door.
Dexter's mother sat and pet him gently, watching cartoons until she felt him go limp and heard his breathing steady out. She leaned her head back on the couch and closed her eyes, ready to catch up on her own sleep. “Goodnight, Dexter. You're a good boy.”