There are about half a dozen thick files spread over the wooden surface of my desk, but only one draws the attention of my tired eyes. I pick it up.
Case: #642283.
Status: Catastrophic.
Jo Elizabeth Morgan, seven years old, brown hair, brown eyes. Fearless. I toss the file back with the others and sigh. Heavily. It dawns on me that I have no other options. Every single monster assigned to Jo over the last two years has quit. Every. Last. One. Her first monster, a giant green blob named Bubba, had been with her for four years and then she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. After that it was a string of both common and uncommon monsters, all of which were sent back within a week. She simply wasn’t afraid. I even assigned a troll to her case. He came back crying… A quick search through the database shows me that there is only one unassigned monster left, myself. Field work has never been my cup of tea. I prefer to stick to file reading and case assigning, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I spend the next hours gathering intel. Trying to find something, anything, that might scare Jo.
Anticipation makes the day pass slow, but at last, bedtime rolls around. Mrs. Morgan tucks Jo and her younger brother in at precisely 8:33 PM. The drop of kisses on foreheads and a few mumbled “I love you’s” are all the time it takes for Mrs. Morgan to leave, closing the door behind her. I slither under Jo’s bed, lying in wait. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep. Glancing across the room I see Marcus peaking around the edge of a red race car bed. He’s only a rookie, but then again it doesn’t take much to scare a four year old. Turning my attention to my own child, I slither around under her bed making sickening slurping sounds as I go. She stirs. Using the force of my tail, I  knock a picture off her nightstand. As it shatters on the floor I see that it’s of a happy family. Jo’s beaming in the center. Cute.
“I’m not afraid of you monster”, she whispers. I reach one long, sharp talon up and run it down her arm.
“You don’t scare me!” She says a little louder this time. Somewhere else in the house I hear a door slam and Jo’s breath audibly hitches. A few minutes go by and I can here Mr. Morgan yelling at his wife. There’s a loud crash then heavy boots are making their way toward the room. Jo is out of her bed and shoving herself under it in a second. With me.
“Scoot over!”, She hisses at me, and I do just as the door swings open and light floods the room. The smell of alcohol hits me like a brick. Through a crack in the bed frame I see a man. Five foot tall, muscular, clearly angry and drunk. Very drunk. Suddenly, I understand why Jo isn’t afraid of my monsters. She’s afraid of her own.
“Jo!” Mr. Morgan shouts reaching a rough hand under the bed. I shoot my own hand out, and he grabs it and starts to pull. I slither out.
“What the hell?” he asks, obviously confused. His mouth opens to say something else, but I cut him off, rising to my full twelve foot stature. Lifting him just enough to put him on his toes, I sneer, “This is my child and if you ever lay a finger on her again, you’ll regret it”. I turn to Jo.
“I’ll be back tomorrow.”