This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Scarlett_Nocturne on 2024-11-17 18:51:46+00:00.

On the advice of my therapist, I’m writing about this incident for the first time. I’ll just get right into it, I was seven, and the world had just started revealing its shadows. The nightmares started suddenly, vivid and cruel. Every night, I’d wake up gasping, my sheets tangled around me like restraints. In my dreams, unseen things stalked me, whispering from the corners of my room where the moonlight couldn’t reach. Sleep became something to dread, the dark a prison I couldn’t escape.

My parents tried their best. They bought night lights, banned sugary foods before bed, and tried to shield me from seeing anything scary during the day. But nothing worked. The nightmares continued and I started to really suffer from a lack of sleep.

Then, one morning, my dad entered my room with a surprise. It was a robot, or at least it looked like one. Its body was made of taped-together cardboard boxes, with Christmas lights threaded through in chaotic loops. I remember giggling when he showed it off, tapping its “head” with his knuckles like a magician introducing his trick.

My dad told me it would be my new night time protector. I liked the sound of that. But it needed to charge and it wouldn’t be ready until I came back from school.

The rest of the day at school felt endless. I told my friends about my new robot, spinning wild stories about how it would fight off nightmares with lasers or super strength. By the time I got home, my chest was tight with excitement.

But the house was quiet when I walked in—too quiet. I called out for my dad, but there was no answer.

When I opened my bedroom door, my robot was waiting.

Its Christmas lights blinked rhythmically, almost alive, and it stood taller than I remembered, its boxy arms dangling stiffly by its sides. Then it moved. Slowly, awkwardly, but deliberately. It raised one heavy, cardboard-wrapped hand and patted my head.

“Hello, Scarlett,” it said in a voice that sounded like a choir of broken radios. “I am here to protect you.”

It told me it wasn’t a toy. Its job was to keep me safe from monsters, from danger, from anything that might hurt me. But it wouldn’t be available whenever I wanted. It needed to conserve energy, staying dormant until I truly needed it.

When my mom got home later, the robot told me to go to her and ask her how her day was. I obeyed and was listening to my mom when my dad joined us in the kitchen. I ran to him, saying “Thank you for the robot, Daddy!” and hugging him tight. I remember he looked very pleased with himself and ruffled my hair.

When I got back to my room, I found the robot slumped in the corner. I moved it’s arm and it was light as a feather. The arm seemed to fall lifelessly when I dropped it. But I knew better. As promised, I knew it was just biding its time while constantly watching over me.

That night, for the first time in weeks, I slept without nightmares.

For the next three weeks, my protector became a quiet constant in my life. I told it all about my day as soon as I got home from school. My dad wanted me to call him ‘Robbie’ for some reason but I settled on Nigel. I just thought it sounded funny.

Very occasionally, Nigel would be activated and able to talk and play simple games. It was always when my dad had to go out on some errand so I appreciated the company. But mostly, Nigel stayed still, watching.

Then came the night everything changed.

I woke to the sound of something at my window. I opened my eyes and looked at Nigel but it was still slumped in its corner, lights off. For a moment, this reassured me. Surely if it was a monster, Nigel would have detected it by now.

I tried to go back to sleep but there was a persistent scratching sound behind my curtains. I turned and looked at them, not expecting to see much. The room was dark but then moonlight entered as my curtains slowly parted. I froze, my heart hammering as a man climbed into my room.

He moved cautiously, placing a crowbar on the floor and setting down a heavy duffel bag next to it. Then he reached into the bag, pulling out a bottle and a hand towel.

My throat felt like it was glued shut. The man seemed to be pouring the contents of the bottle onto the towel when he suddenly looked up, in my direction. I screwed my eyes shut, silently begging my robot to wake up.

The man whispered hoarsely, “It’s okay. Just a dream. Relax. Breathe.”

I tried to believe him, to melt into my bed, invisible. But then I felt his presence, looming, and I opened my eyes to see him standing right beside me, the soaked towel in his hand.

That’s when the lights came on.

Blinking, flashing Christmas lights filled the room as the robot stood up. Its movements were slow but purposeful, its boxy frame towered over the man.

“What the…?” The burglar stumbled back, dropping the towel.

The robot advanced, its steps heavy. The man grabbed his crowbar and swung it with a sharp crack against the robot’s head. The sound echoed, but the robot didn’t even flinch.

Instead, it grabbed the man’s wrist.

I’ll never forget the way he screamed, raw and panicked, as he tried to pull away. The robot stepped forward, pinning his foot to the ground with a crunch that made my stomach twist. The man’s scream turned into a shriek as the robot’s grip tightened, snapping his arm with a sickening pop.

I closed my eyes as the robot delivered the final blow, a headbutt that sent the man crumpling to the floor. When I opened them, the robot was still, its “face” coated in something dark.

My parents burst in moments later, my dad’s horrified gasp cutting through the silence. The man lay motionless, surrounded by a spreading pool of blood. But I didn’t see him.

I was on the floor, hugging my robot, its cardboard shell damp against my cheek. All the fear in me had been replaced by pride and love for my protector. I looked at my father and said, “Thank you so much for the robot, Daddy!”

But he didn’t ruffle my head this time. At the time, I couldn’t understand why he looked so scared. I had a better idea after all I went through at the police station later but I still couldn’t understand why everyone suddenly wanted to take Nigel out of my room.

Even now, 3 decades later, I can’t bring myself to get rid of it. No matter where I’ve lived, I always made room for Nigel in my bedroom. He waits there now, dormant. Biding his time. Just in case.