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If you wake up with a scream locked inside your throat, does that mean you were dreaming? Does a nightmare really happen, perhaps in another dimension? And if you die in a dream, do you wake to find you are no longer alive. I'm afraid. I can no longer tell what is real and what is not. Tonight I can hear it scratching inside my closet door. I saw my mutilated corpse under my bed and I cannot move. I'm frozen on top of my bed. My thoughts are going so fast. I’m afraid to look under my bed or inside my closet. Am I truly dead or is this just a memory, an echo of a scream that's locked somewhere inside my head. I wish I could reach inside and squeeze. Squeeze so hard that I can erase her screams inside of me. I'm scare, but he tells me it’s okay, only fools can be brave all of the time. There are tears of blood running down her face and she is terrified. I can smell the fear in her sweat. It’s so strong. He touches my hand and everything feels better.
Perhaps this a nightmare? But he whispers in my ear and it feels so real. How his breath moves my hair slightly and tickles my ear. His sweet scent, but most of all her screams. How can something so terrible not be real? How can it all be in my head?
She stop minutes ago. It’s so silent. Even he has left, leaving me alone and afraid, because I can hear it. Oh yes, it’s trying to be silent, trying to fool me, but I can sense it everywhere. Under the bed, inside my closet, oh God, almost on top of me. I can smell it; it’s rancid breath, its beastly body so near me. Help me, but I can feel the way her blood ran down my hands, the way it smelled, how he whispered sweetly in my ear. How I heard his voice in my blood, into my head, making me feel her blood. Oh God, my hands, my hands, they’re bloody. Where is it? Where? She’s screaming again, drilling into me, my hands dripping in her blood. She’s screaming at me. But why? What have I done?
I wait for it to get me. I pray for it to come, but nothing happens and he’s whispering in my ear again. He wants more blood, more screams. I’m crying. Im afraid, because I know it’s not in the closet or under the bed. No,I think I know now that the monster is me.
Copyright 2008 Yesenia Rodriguez
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