When you reach a certain age, you outgrow having an imaginary friend. This isn’t news to anyone. Back when I was young, I didn’t have many friends my own age. Where I lived, there just weren’t any kids living nearby. That’s when Bing-Bong came into my life. Half pink teddy bear and half kitty cat, he was always there when I needed a friend.

We had so many adventures. One time we lined the stairs with cardboard, grabbed my sled and sailed down so fast that I almost broke my arm when we hit the wall. To Bing-Bong, there was no such thing as a bad idea, always there to talk or listen. Things were good, simple. Growing older, things began to change.

In school, I started making real friends. Not that Bing-Bong wasn’t a real friend. He just wasn’t, you know, real. The more I was able to go out and play with friends my own age, the less time I ended up spending with Bing-Bong, and he let me know it.

Every once in a while, something that I really liked would end up broken. Dolls had their heads snapped off. Dresses had claw marks in them. The cord of my phone charger was chewed through. My mom yelled at me for acting out but the thing was, it wasn’t me. No one seemed to understand that. Sometimes when I was being scolded, I’d catch a glimpse of Bing-Bong in a reflection, big, pink, and frowning.

When I entered middle school, I rarely thought of my imaginary friend. Rather, I forced myself to forget him. I was outgrowing him. Everyone said that was natural. My therapist at the time told me that if I thanked Bing-Bong for helping me cope as a child and understood that his job was done and that I no longer needed him, that could help sooth my apparent anxiety. That’s when he hurt me.

In my room, I actually talked to Bing-Bong for the first time in years. He was so happy about the attention, bouncing on his tail and showing a big smile. Had he always had so many teeth? I thanked him for his help, let him know how much he meant to me. How much he used to mean to me. Positively over the moon, he rubbed his head on my leg like the half-cat he was.

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It was when I told him we couldn’t be friends anymore...that’s when I became fearful. He said we would be friends forever and not to worry, because he could never die. My blood ran cold. Remembering my therapy, I resolved to set a strong boundary. No, we couldn’t be best friends anymore. I had outgrown him, I didn’t need him anymore.

Tears poured out of Bing-Bong’s teddy bear eyes. He pleaded, it didn’t have to be this way. I folded my arms and took a deep breath, holding back tears of my own. Something sharp dug into my flesh. I let out a scream and fell backwards. On my knee were deep red scratches. Bing-Bong’s voice grew deeper and deeper as he spoke. Nothing would change. We would be best friends until the end. ‘Until the end.’ Those words hung in the air like a threat or a prophecy.

The more I dwelt on the confrontation the more I withdrew, from friends, family, everyone. I didn’t know if anyone would believe me. Taking a chance, I told my therapist. Eagerly listening and taking notes, she helped me calm down and make a plan. Bing-Bong was imaginary. He shouldn’t be able to hurt me but if I felt threatened, I could create a place in my mind where I could lock him away. I looked at the scratches on my knee, if there was even a chance it’d work...

It took lots of practice but eventually, I made a place within my mind where Bing-Bong would be imprisoned. I imagined the closet door of my childhood room. Behind the deadbolts, padlocks, and wooden boards was my imaginary friend on the other side, scratching, calling for me to let him out, crying with apparent loneliness.

Somewhere in the ballpark of ten years had gone by since those days. I had forgotten all about my imaginary friend, but I’ve realized that just because you forget about someone doesn’t mean they forget about you. I’ve heard scratching from the other side of that door. What I hoped would simply fade away has gotten bigger, angrier, hungrier.

I don’t know what will happen if it gets out but every now and then, I think I see pink fur out of the corner of my eye and almost have a panic attack. His voice is clearer than ever. I still remember his words, ‘best friends...until the end.’ My end.