• My lungs must be as black as my bed sheets… I thought as I took a long drag from my cigarette. It’s a bad habit I picked up in high school but despite the damage it’s doing to me internally, it’s the only thing that calms me since the accident. Another deep breat and I decide I’m done pressing it into it’s ashtray.
    I pull off my shirt revealing the undergarments and I look into the mirror hanging on the wall. I look in and see my mother, then I see myself. I’m her spitting image. I brush back a golden curl from my eye and see the scar above my eyebrow and I press my finger on it. The only imperfection about my almost flawless being.
    I turn around and look at my bed and shutter. I go through the same thing every few nights: the fear of sleeping. But I’ve been dealing with it for so long so I’m able to put up with it… almost. I peel up the sheets and climb into this supposed safe haven. I click off the light and lay back my head. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and try to think of happier times. My family… the few friends I had… my mother... then him. “No”, I say out loud. I cannot think of him or anything that has to do with him. But especially not him.
    I hear the nostalgic creek from underneath the bed and my heart stops for a moment. Even though I don’t feel it I know what is happening. The long, slender claw-like fingers grip the edge of the bed and slither toward my body like a serpent. I gasp as I feel the warm breath on my neck and the powerful fingers hold me down as they grip my breast.
    “Christine” it moans in a somewhat whisper into my ear. It chuckles as I wince and try to pull the blanket over myself. No use. It’s other claw is slowly rubbing it’s finger in a sawing motion on my neck.
    “Noooo!” I scream and try to escape but to no avail. It laughs loudly in my ear and kisses me as the agonizing pain erupts. I feel the blood flowing from my neck and I can no longer speak. I cry in pain from the repetitive event. But it isn’t tears that escape my eyes; I feel the warmth of blood bury my cheeks as if someone had gauged out my eyeballs. Louder it laughs at my demise. He presses his cold and wet lips above my eyebrow then to my lips as the claws are clamping my hair. I feel the weight on my body push me into the mattress and his lips are at my neck drinking my blood like Dracula. He sits up and pulls up my blanket and crawls under. He holds me against his body and I can’t even make out a heartbeat from this creature. The fingers are rubbing up and down my sides trying to recognize and remember my body. Unable to do anything but think I wish over and over for it to stop. I plead to myself for it to not be real. But it is.
    I suddenly regain my strength and bash the night light’s switch on the nightstand. I’m gasping for breath and quickly put my hands to my face then look at my hands. They’re clean and bare aside from the sweat that made them clammy. I look around my empty and lonely room. The only sound is the slight buzzing from the old air conditioner. It’s finally over.