The dark is scary

I'm scared of the dark, but not how most kids are, because when they're afraid of monsters in the dark, or bad men sitting in the shadowy corners, waiting for a child to pass by so they can grab them and kidnap them from their houses,  I'm afraid of getting lost. That's why whenever I go to bed I drag my comforter along the floor, for it to snag on loose nail, or splinter of wood, and dig into the blanket and stick to a knot of cotton inside, so a trail of comforter innards unravels out of the blanket as I walk down the dark hall to my room.
I leave the light on in the bathroom so I can see the light shine on my door and a little ways down the long hall, so the pathway to my door and the long trail of cotton is highlighted. My hole-covered and half hollow comforter is lying in front of the door, keeping it from opening and closing all the way, because I like it right in the middle of its arc. It makes me feel better for some reason, so that's how it is.
One day my parents came to check on me in the dark, after one of them had a nightmare of all the kids dissapearing in the night, and saw my blanket, the trail of cotton, and the bathroom light on. They usually see them after the sun is up, so when I woke up a few minutes later all I see is nothing.
No trail of glowing, white cotton, no light from the bathroom showing me where the door of my room is, no half-filled comforter keeping the door between closed and open.
Nothing.
I sit up in the center of my bed and hug my legs to my chest, wondering what time it is, but not being able to even see the wall on which my clock is. For a while I count the ticks of the second hand for one minute and twenty seconds in my head, before I get tired of counting and just continue to sit there and wonder why my eyes won't adjust to the darkness.
Evantually I put my legs over the side of my bed, and slowly slide across the bed until I'm sitting on the edge and my feet can touch the ground. I push off the ground with my feet and lift the top of my body so I'm standing, squishing the soft carpet with my squirming toes. I swallow the saliva in my mouth hard, causing a cartoon-like audible gulp as it passes into my throat. I start walking towards where the door should be, but I bump my leg into something hard and wooden, and back up holding my right thigh in pain. I wait for the pain to fade, then try to walk a route around it, and bumb into what seems like a wardrobe with my shoulder but keep walking till I find the flat wall across from my bed. I bend over the table in front of me and feel the wall as I walk to the right for the door. I finally feel a cut in the wall and move my hands down, finding a cold metallic handle. I turn it and open it to find - unsurprisingly - more darkness, but the ease of it opening means my blanket is no longer on the floor near the door, so that means the cotton trail is also gone.
I slowly move the small space to the next wall, then continue on to the right until I find the bathroom, with the door ajar. I reach for the wall inside on the left and find the light switches. I flick one up, but that turns on the fan - I always hated to use it, because it was too loud - and quickly shut it off and tried to the other one, which turned on a dim light on the center of the ceiling. I turn my head and see my fears were right, the cotton down the hallway is gone and I can only see a yard or so of the elegant carpet before it dissapears into the darkness. I stand up straight and walk into the bathroom, close the door and sit on the toilet seat with my legs against my chest. I rest my forehead on my knees and wait for morning while I try to keep the tears from flowing onto my eyes and dripping off my eyelashes to my pants.