Nightmares. I wake cold in darkness. In a basement somewhere outside Baltimore.
Have I been kidnapped?
I wrap the checkered blanket around me tightly and curl into the fetal position. Chatter. Shiver.
Carpet lays beneath me and I dig my face into it. Try to heat myself with my breath. It doesn't work. I spit strands of hair from my mouth.
And that nightmare. Who was walking toward me? The figure that gave me such a shudder I found myself mumbling when I woke. Heart racing. Fists clenched.
Better not to remember. Better that it has left me. Better to be alone.
Then I wonder of the hour and how soon the sun will rise and bring me some warmth, some light. But I dare not check the time. I dare not open my eyes or move from beneath this blanket.
If not for fear of the cold and darkness, then fear of my own imagination. And the terrors it will create when I give it a window.
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