When Peter was told it was time for bed, it wasn’t soon enough. Under any other circumstance, he’d have protested a 9pm curfew, but having spent the longest 90 minutes of his life; wearing a short baby-doll nightie in front of his mother and sister, he was glad to be going to bed so early.
“you can turn off the landing light Peter…” his mother says, briefly halting his escape, “…but make sure you leave your door wide open.” she reminded him.
Peter flicked the landing light off as he entered his new bedroom. He cursed himself as he approached his pink ballerina bed. Dread flooded through him as he pulled back his duvet and climbed inside. He sank into the soft mattress and laid his head on the frilly pillow. Everything seemed softer than in his room, and even with his eyes closed, he could sense the encompassing pinkness.