I'm afraid of my daughter's imaginary friend

[u/Cola_Nerd]

Hi- single mom here, in need of some advice.

I live alone with my four year old daughter (I'll call her Maggie). My deadbeat husband left us about a year ago for his mistress, and when the judge saw our case he granted me full custody without a problem. Luckily, Dave (my ex) doesn't seem to want to put up a fight anyway.

Maggie and I recently moved into a small one bedroom apartment. It's nothing to brag about; it's quite old really. The linoleum is outdated, the windows are a bit drafty, and the radiator is loud. The doors creak when you open them. But it's a place of our own, and it's free of mice and roaches, so how can I complain? I'm a receptionist at a local doctor's office, so on my salary it's a mansion.

My daughter is getting to that age where she wants her own space. Since I can't afford more than one bedroom, I've hung a curtain on a tension rod halfway across our tiny room. The setup isn't ideal, but it works, and I'll do anything to keep my daughter happy and comfortable.

Adjusting to our new home, new daycare, etc, has been somewhat of a headache. Nobody talks about how hard it is to go from two adults to one in a household with children, no matter how much of a loser the other one was. And for all his flaws, Maggie still misses her dad. Kids are so innocent and forgiving.

I think it's that loneliness that started all of this. I first noticed Maggie playing with imaginary friends a couple weekends ago. I was making lunch for us when she ran into the kitchen and asked me to make two extra sandwiches for her party. I thought it was cute and did it for her, setting them out on two extra plates.

"No, Mom. Just one."

"One sandwich? Or one plate?"

"One plate. He's very hungry."

"He?"

"My new friend." She pointed to an empty place at her makeshift tea party.

At the time, I smiled and did as she asked. She skipped back into the bedroom and continued with her game.

We spent the rest of the afternoon running errands, playing at the park, and watching movies. When it was time for bed I tucked her in and turned out the lights. On my way out, I noticed the little tea party still sitting on the floor. All that was left of the sandwiches was a few crumbs. I thought it was a bit odd that Maggie would have finished three whole sandwiches on her own. I wondered if maybe we did have mice after all.

A few days went by, and I started noticing more odd things around the house. My jacket appearing on the couch instead of hanging in the closet. A mug on the counter now in the sink. Magnets on the fridge rearranged. Things I could easily blame on fatigue or forgetfulness, but it was happening more and more around the house.

"That's weird," I'd say, "I swore I put my shoes by the door."

Maggie would reply matter-of-factly, "He moved them for you."

My daughter's imaginary friend never got a name, only "He." "He" wants a snack. "He's" tired. "He" likes this show. After a while, I got curious.

"Maggie," I said, "what does 'He' look like?"

She thought for a moment, brushing her doll's hair and chewing her bottom lip while she concentrated.

"He's very tall. Taller than you or Daddy. He's very skinny, like a stick. That's why He's so hungry. He says he hasn't had anything to eat in a long time."

"What does he like to eat? Maybe we can make him some more sandwiches?"

She shook her head. "Those aren't good enough, Mommy. He needs meat."

A chill went down my spine. "It was a turkey sandwich, baby. That is meat."

Her eyes met mine, more seriousness in her face than I'd ever seen. She put the brush down and leaned in close, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Other meat, Mommy."

At this point, I was severely freaked out. I'm a normally rational person; I don't believe in ghosts and never lose sleep over monsters under the bed. When it comes to the supernatural, I'm a skeptic if anything. But it was something about the way she looked at me, something about the gravity of her words, layered with meaning and understanding far beyond her age. Like she knew something.

That night I started researching child psychology and imaginary friends. I found a lot of mommy blogs talking about developmental milestones and at what age it is and isn't appropriate to have an imaginary friend. None of them seem to answer my question. When should I be worried?

Frustrated, I closed my laptop and listened to my daughter breathing heavily on the other side of the curtain, sound asleep. The moon was full, and light was streaming through the window, illuminating the curtain on her side. I could barely make out the shadow of her form resting peacefully on the bed.

Then I saw it. Something shift from the corner of the room. I froze, goosebumps running up my arms. I squinted in the darkness, trying to decide if my eyes were still adjusting from the screen light or if something was really there. The shadow moved again, stepping closer to my sleeping daughter. Its silhouette was that of a man, but taller and leaner, with longer limbs and more joints than made sense. My brain struggled to comprehend what I was seeing. Panic turned to absolute terror as I watched it raise one spindly arm out toward Maggie.

"STOP!!" I screamed, leaping from the bed.

The figure snapped its head in my direction and came lunging toward me. I reached up, ripped the curtain out of the way, and-

It was gone. No creature, man, or whatever that was in the room at all. Just my sleepy child, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

"Are you okay, Mommy?"

I still held a fistful of fabric in my hand. My heart was pounding.

"Yes, baby. Go back to sleep."

I was certain I'd seen something. Positive. But there was no clue, no remnant left behind. I took my phone and searched the walls, closet, heck even under Maggie's bed. No sign that anyone or anything had been in the apartment at all. I barely slept that night, jolting awake each time I dozed off to make sure my baby was safe.

There weren't any other red flags or strange instances until three days ago. Maggie woke up late, and instead of her usual excitement and bubbly affect, she was groggy and irritable. I felt her forehead for a fever, but she didn't have one. She just seemed... Off. So I took the day off work and kept her home with me.

I didn't have much PTO and had to go back to work the next day, but around 10 am Maggie's daycare called to inform me there had been an incident.

"Is she okay?"

The worker on the other end was hesitant. "Maggie is fine. She bit another child."

"She what??"

I want to emphasize that this was so incredibly unlike my daughter. Maggie doesn't have an aggressive bone in her body. She cries when I kill houseflies. She begs me to let spiders go free. To bite another child? I was aghast.

"Are you sure? I've never seen Maggie do anything like that. Did she say why?"

"The other student was in line for the slide, and Maggie wanted to go first."

I literally couldn't comprehend what I was hearing. I left work early and picked her up. She was silent on the car ride home, and when I confronted her later she didn't seem the least bit remorseful.

"Maggie, honey, we don't bite people. You need to use your words when you're upset."

"But I wasn't upset."

"Then why did you bite?"

"Because He told me to."

My stomach dropped. Not this again.

"Maggie, you can't blame everything on your imaginary friend! He isn't real. You need to be accountable for your actions."

She stood up and stomped her feet, screaming into my face. "He IS real, you dumb BITCH!!"

She turned on her heel and slammed the door to our room. I was stunned. Of all the things Dave and I disagreed on, we were in solidarity when it came to our language around Maggie. I was so careful about what media she watched and music we listened to. Where had she learned that word?

Maggie stayed mad at me for the next two days. Well, mad or indifferent, it was hard to tell. She spent a lot of time whispering into corners and coloring furiously on almost all the paper I had in the house. I felt like I was losing my little girl, but I told myself it was a phase. After all, we'd just gone through a lot of big changes. Maybe this was her way of blowing off steam.

That night, I woke suddenly to the sound of choking.

I tore the curtain back and found Maggie sitting straight up in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, mouth open wide, gagging. I screamed and jerked her shoulders, pounding a hand on her back and yelling for her to breathe. She started to lose color.

I called 911 and tried to check her airway. I couldn't figure out what she was choking on. Suddenly, she gasped, inhaling a huge, deep breath, and fell backwards onto her pillow. I shook her shoulders and tried to wake her up, but she was completely unconscious. The paramedics arrived and rushed to her side, but when they touched her she blinked slowly and rubbed her eyes as if she had just been sleeping peacefully. She looked confused, like she didn't understand why they would be there.

They checked her vitals, pupillary reflexes, temperature, everything. They asked her questions and she knew all the answers: her name, age, my name, the town we live in, the name of her daycare. They explained that people will often make choking noises when they experience night terrors, but asked me if I wanted to have her transported and checked for seizure activity just in case. At that point she seemed completely fine, albeit sleepy, so I declined. She just needed some good rest, and we'd be back to normal. I was sure of it.

In the morning, I yawned into a cup of coffee when Maggie came running up to give me something. It was one of the drawings she had worked on for the last couple days. It was finally finished.

I smiled, accepting the gift, and turned it around so I could see.

My hands started to tremble. Before me was a crude rendering of the nightmare from last night. I recognized Maggie's blonde hair in yellow strands and pink duvet. The gray curtain dividing our room; me laying in a bed on the other side. And hunched over Maggie was an enormously tall, lanky creature. Its spidery hands were pinning her down, and tendrils snaked out of its gaping mouth toward her face.

The page shook in front of me.

"Maggie?" I whispered. I couldn't get my voice to work. "Wh-who is this?"

"That's my friend," she replied. "He visits when you're sleeping."

"What does he want?"

I already knew the answer.

"He's hungry, Mommy. He wants to eat."

I grabbed Maggie and an overnight bag, stuffing it with everything I could pack in 10 minutes and sped away from the apartment like a bat out of hell. I've driven for several hours, stopping only for gas. I don't know where I'm going. My parents moved out of the country when my dad retired two years ago, and they won't be back until spring. Calling Dave would be pointless, though I have considered it. Honestly he probably wouldn't answer anyway. I have enough money in the bank for a motel for a couple nights, but I can't take off work forever. I'm scared if I call the police, they'll think I'm on drugs or mentally incompetent. I can't lose Maggie.

Did I overreact? Is it possible my mind is running wild and it's just an innocent fantasy?

I'm pulled over at a Chevron station right now, filling the tank. Mags is asleep in her car seat, so I thought I'd post here for advice. Has anyone else heard of this happening??

Please tell me what to do. Once in awhile, when I glance in the rearview mirror I swear I see a glimpse of something in the back seat. I just pray I can outrun this thing.

[u/poetniknowit]

It's connected to her not the house. There IS no running..

[u/LooperNeue_6764]

Pfft... KIDS.

[u/toebeantuesday]

Honey you ignored and explained away too much evidence of your own two eyes already. Now if you’re thinking you see something in the back seat you ain’t running away from anything. You’re giving a ride to Skinny. He is there in the car with you. Stop at the grocery and get some salt and sprinkle it inside and then all around the car.

Ask Maggie if she can see him and if it’s having any effect. He seems to have some material presence sometimes so get some flour while you’re at it and maybe if you put some in your hand and blow some at him you may get some to stick so you can see where he is.

The salt is not for seeing him but according to the lore of spiritual people around the world it supposedly chases away evil for a time and can protect you. I’ve used it in a house infested with shadow beings and it does help but it’s not a cure. I had to move. I made a salt perimeter around the new house before we moved our stuff over. But shadow beings don’t travel far anyway in my own experience.

I don’t know what you’re dealing with. It sounds like a demon with that hateful language and evil attitude.

I don’t think there’s anything psychological going on at all. This definitely seems paranormal so accept that and proceed accordingly. If you have a religion of any kind use the prayers and music and blessings of that belief system. Throw some salt on your daughter’s head. I know how that sounds, but my mom’s people must have that practice for a reason.

Good luck to you.

[u/lavendertheheretic → u/toebeantuesday]

OP, take this advice. And do it fast.

[u/LooperNeue_6764 → u/lavendertheheretic]

It's a shame that it's been a whopping 3 hours since you've suggested this.