The room was boiling. Sweat dripped off Patrick’s head as it hit the floor, forming a small puddle. There was a large amount of weight on his back, paired with loud music blasting around the room, echoing off the walls. It was hard to think, but he didn’t have time to think as the coach blew the whistle.

 

Just like that, boom, they were live again.

 

The mass on his back was his drilling partner, Cooper. Cooper chopped down Patrick’s arms. It hurt, but Patrick couldn’t think about that right now. He needed to focus on getting out of the position he was in.

 

He rolled out of it and got on his feet, but before he could even process what happened, Cooper had him in a tight collar tie.

 

All Patrick could think about was how this two‑minute period felt like a century, and—bam!—he felt a huge blow to his lower half. Cooper blast‑doubled him hard down onto his back. All Patrick could do was let out a low groan as the air left his chest cavity. Just like that, he was on his back with an enormous weight on his chest and Cooper’s sweat dripping in his face.

 

Patrick wondered if it would ever end.

 

The coach blew the whistle two times, indicating the live period was over. Cooper rolled off him and offered him a hand. “Good work today, man.”

 

Patrick didn’t take it. “Yeah, ok, whatever,” he said, and stood up on his own.

 

Cooper was his friend, but Patrick hated losing. He was pissed. “How could I let that happen again, damn it?” he thought. Although Patrick was mad, he knew Cooper would understand.

 

After practice, Patrick was still pissed. Everyone else was getting in the shower, and Cooper asked, “Patrick, are you coming to the shower with everyone else?”

 

Patrick blew him off. “No, man, I’m going home.”

 

Cooper looked confused, as Patrick usually wasn’t this upset. “Alright, Patty, suit yourself. See you next week.”

 

Patrick grabbed his stuff, opened the door, and left. It was Friday, late‑November, and the night was brisk, so he knew the walk to his car wasn’t going to be pleasant. Patrick scurried to his car, and the hot sweat turned into an unpleasant chill, like stepping out of a hot tub on a freezing night.

 

The drive home was calm; it always was. The silent drive home was the sign that his day was finally over—no matter how good or bad it was, he could finally relax. Although Patrick was having trouble shaking that loss, he calmed down further as he pulled into the driveway to his house.

 

His dad wasn’t really in the picture, but his mom did well for herself. They lived in a good neighborhood in a cul‑de‑sac. It was just him, his mom, and his little sister Piper, and they were happy.

 

Patrick swung the front door open and was hit with a warm flow of air as he entered his small, cozy house. “I’m home,” Patrick said.

 

He was almost instantly greeted by his mother. “Hey, honey, how was school?” And before Patrick could even mumble a word, his mom said, “Sorry, but I’m going on a date tonight, so you’re going to have to watch your sister for me.”

 

Those words were like a dagger to his heart. It was almost worse than seeing the crockpot after a hard day of school. He tried to argue about it, but it was no good. There wasn’t a chance he was getting out of this. Patrick was fed up with this conversation. “Fine!” he yelled as he stormed out of the room and stomped up the stairs into the bathroom.

 

He started the shower and just thought, “How could this day get any worse on a Friday night? My friends are all going to hang out, and I’m stuck at home watching my sister.”

 

Patrick entered the shower, and the first thing he saw was his sister’s stupid bath toy. It was a Bluey toy shower loofah, and something about its stupid little face was really ticking Patrick off. It was like a rotten cherry on top of his shitty day.

 

Something came over him, almost like he couldn’t help it. He started beating the toy relentlessly—punching, slapping, kicking, stomping, elbows—it looked like a crime scene. Soap and water all over the walls, the toy lay lifeless in the water, all smashed and slumped against the corner of the bathtub.

 

Patrick felt better.

 

He wrapped up his shower, then lay on his bed to relax. At this point, he had accepted his fate; he was watching his sister tonight, whether he liked it or not.

 

Patrick heard footsteps up the stairs and listened as the door to the bathroom slammed shut, and shortly after, the sound of water hitting the ceramic tub. He assumed that his mom was setting up the bath for his little sister.

 

A few minutes passed by, and the water stopped. He heard his mom yell, “Piper, your bath is ready.”

 

Then he heard the loud sound of his mom’s hair dryer. She was still getting ready for her date, but then the sound of the dryer came to a sudden end, and the lights flickered at the same time as he heard a loud crackle, then a pop, and his mom’s loud gasp. 

 

Patrick bolted out of his room and ran into the bathroom. His mom was clearly startled, but was fine. The room, however, was filled with smoke. As it cleared, he looked down into the tub and saw the Bluey toy sitting in there, charred, with a melted face, as the hair dryer floated alongside it.

 

“Mom, how do you even manage to do that?” Patrick snapped.

 

“It just slipped. Thank God your sister wasn’t in there,” his mom said, relieved.

 

“Piper is going to have to skip her bath tonight. Just get the food from the oven and then put her to bed by nine. I have to go; I’m already late.” She explained.

 

“Ok, have fun tonight,” Patrick said.

 

And just like that, Patrick’s mom walked down the stairs and left.

 

Patrick followed her downstairs, and the moment his mom was gone, he turned to his sister. “Good thing you weren’t in the bath yet, Smelly. You would’ve been a little shocked, just like your toy,” Patrick snickered.

 

“Shut up, Patrick. What happened to Bluey?” Piper asked.

 

As they were bickering back and forth, the oven went off. The loud beeping ended their conversation.

 

“Let’s go eat,” Patrick said.

 

They entered the kitchen, and Piper sat down at the table. Patrick carefully opened the oven and got the pizza out, set it on the counter, and started to cut it into slices. “So how was your day, Piper?” Patrick paused his pizza cutting and walked toward the fridge.

 

“It was good. Wanna grab me the milk? I’m thirsty.”

 

Patrick opened the door, then jumped back, startled. It was Bluey.

“Piper, what is this? Do you think you’re funny?” Patrick screamed.

 

“What are you talking about?” Piper responded. She leaned over to take a look in the fridge and gasped. “That wasn’t me.”

 

They both froze and looked at one another, not sure whether to be scared or to laugh. A weird feeling, a shiver, crept down Patrick’s spine, but he decided to ignore it as he let out an awkward laugh and shrugged it off. “Don’t lie to me, Piper. You think this is funny? Finish cutting the pizza. I’m taking this upstairs,” Patrick yelled. 

 

He picked up Bluey and stormed out of the room. He turned the corner and looked up the staircase. It was long and dark, and he got a strange, eerie feeling. He was rethinking going up the stairs, but he wasn’t going to ask his little sister to go with him. She’d use that against him forever.

 

“I’m not scared, I’m not scared; it’s a damn shower toy,” Patrick thought. He finally choked up the courage to climb the flight of stairs, each step creakier than the last.

 

The toy was still wet, dripping with water. He refused to look at it.

 

As he neared the top of the staircase, he heard a weird squishing sound, almost like a sponge leaking water. He looked down at the toy and locked eyes with its burnt face. The loofah grinned with a threatening, evil grimace. Patrick didn’t even have time to react before it pounced on his face.

 

He couldn’t see or breathe. Patrick desperately tried to let out a death‑curdling scream. However, nothing came out; the wet loofah muffled his scream. He tried to open his eyes. However, the remaining soap still in the loofah stung them. He was in agonizing pain, and he couldn’t see or breathe. He panicked. Patrick tried to grab the loofah to pull it off his face. 

 

The struggle was causing him to stumble backwards. He didn’t know where he was on the stairs; he was trying to stand still. He knew if he fell, it would be horrific. However, he couldn’t stop the inevitable, as he finally lost his balance and then his footing, and took a step backwards.

 

Suddenly, he was falling. His shoulders slammed into the stairs as he twisted sideways and continued to tumble, each step hitting harder than the last. As he continued to fall, he struck his head. The crash echoed through the house, then everything went quiet.

 

Patrick lay motionless at the bottom of the stairs. His sister, still in the kitchen, heard the loud tumble; it was a clatter. She quickly ran to the base of the staircase and saw her brother. She came to an abrupt stop. “Oh my God,” she muttered.

 

Piper's face lost all color, like she was going to be sick. She stood there and stared with eyes wide as they filled with tears. There was her brother’s limp body, and lying next to him was Bluey.

 

She questioned, in the moment, if the toy was actually alive or if her brother had just slipped—but I guess she’ll never know.