Devin knew. He knew by the set of his father’s shoulders, and the way the muscle worked in his jaw. The tight bands around the eyes and the thin lips told him he crossed the line. Devin knew his mother knew. The hands reaching up to push an invisible strand of hair behind her ear; her quiet movements as she removed his father’s half-eaten supper and her slow steps into the kitchen, as if reluctant to leave her menfolk alone in the dining room, indicated she knew. Devin hated this. He wished he never opened his mouth. Stupid, stupid. Devin waited for the inevitable. Eternity passed in the seconds his father sat silent, the ‘toothpick rolling from one side of his mouth to the other, his hands resting on the table. No, not resting, the tension in them defied rest. Devin forced himself to stare at them.  Look at them, not the eyes. Avoid the eyes, or he will think I am fighting.

“So.” His father drew the word out. “Monsters. Monsters in the baby’s closet."

Devin clenched his teeth. Don’t answer. Just take it.

“What’s the matter, boy? You ain’t gonna talk?”

“No Sir, I mean yes Sir. I – I don’t know what to say, Sir.” Devin shifted his glance from the strong hands opposite him to his own ineffectual ones. He laid them flat on the table determined to show no defiance, no anger, and no fear.
 
“Well, you certainly had enough to say earlier about that stupid fantasy of yours.”

“It’s not – ” Silly boy, seek not understanding in this realm. Devin squeezed his eyes shut, closing out the vision behind his father, but the dragon remained, imprinted on his eyelids. “Go away, Aposis.”

“What’s that?” 

“Nothing, Sir.” 

“How old are you boy?” 

“Sixteen, Sir.”

“Sixteen, and you still believe in fairy tales – afraid of dragons, and giants and such. Well, no more. No son of mine is going to be a piss-ant girl. Do you hear me?”

“It’s not that I’m afraid. They are real.” 

Hush, young one. Regal Samirna joined the dragon, and touched Devin’s cheek. Devin flinched. Do not fear me. They do not know. They must not know. Her voice soothed him. 

“I mean, Sir, they seem real.” 

Appease him, Devin. Our time is nigh, but it is not ripe.

“Seem real? Seem real? Either you drop this nonsense or get out of my hou – ” 

A clatter of plates interrupted the ultimatum. Devin jumped up and started to clean up the apple pie and broken plates strewn on the floor at his mother’s feet.

“Charles, you don’t me-“

“You wrapped him in your stories and fed him on your dreams. Mighty writer, great imagination and this – this is what you created.”

“No, Charles. I admit, he might need help, but he is still our son.”

Aposis snickered. This is our saviour? Hiding behind his mother’s apron?

Samirna brandished her staff. Must I banish you, Aposis?  

The dragon thrashed its tail. This grovelling and appeasing wearies me. I take my leave. Devin ducked as the dragon flew over his head.
 
“Look at him cower. Your son, Janice. Not mine.” He stood and threw the napkin on the floor before turning his back.

“No, Dad, please –“

“Enough chances, boy.  Forget your fantasies or get out. I have had enough of this garbage.” He slammed the door. Silence reigned, broken only by his mother's sobs.
 
“Mom? I’m sorry. You believe me, don’t you?” Devin ignored Samirna’s sigh. “Oh, Mom, you have to believe.” Devin tried to take her hand, but she shook it off, continuing to pick up the shards of porcelain. “Please, Mom.”

Janice wiped her eyes on the discarded napkin. “We’ll call Dr. Allard in the morning. Maybe he knows a psychiatrist.”
 
Oh dear, a psychiatrist. This is not good, young one. 

“Will they make them go away, Mom?”
 
“I hope so.  I really pray they do.”