How many times had he scared the living shit out of me in the exact same way over the last couple of years? One hundred? I should have been used to him sneaking in to my room by now. I shouldn’t have been surprised to find him on my bed. I blinked and clutched the skin over my heart like it was about to dive-bomb out of my chest. “Oh my God, Lou,” I wheezed at the realization of who was trying to kill me before I turned thirty.
Camouflaged in the nearly pitch-black room, the little face a few inches away from mine wasn’t really the devil’s minion it was a five-year-old. In the middle of reaching over to grab the pillow next to me to-I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do with it, pillow fight Willy Wonka’s evil Oompa Loompa or something-I realized it wasn’t a travel-sized disciple of Satan about to sacrifice me to the Dark Lord. “Shit!” I shouted as my back hit the headboard, and I sucked in what might have been the last gasp I’d ever take before having my throat slit.
I swear my soul left my body for one millionth of a second as the two eyes staring at me blinked. My eyes snapped open at the middle of my “Ahh!” to find a mini demon inches away from my face. Or pretty close to screaming, considering I was still getting over a cold I’d caught from Josh two weeks ago that had left me sounding like a chain-smoker going through puberty.
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