The abnormality of a man’s panting intercedes my dreaming mind. I open my eyes, hesitantly, in anticipation of what I might find. Between the large amount of eye crust gluing my eyelids together and the menacing darkness masking the objects surrounding me, my attempts to see are unsuccessful.


Here, in Pawnee City, Nebraska, there are no lights to illuminate whatever creature is invading my home. It is raining, like in one those horror movies the moment before someone is slaughtered viciously. The sharp and lucid objects that were present during the day were now replaced by ominous figures snickering in the shadows. I regret ignoring my mother’s advice to invest in a nightlight. I regret a lot of things.


My head whips in the direction of my kitchen contents and overall sanity smashing onto floor. Grenades of uncertainty explode all around me. I’m in a war with the unknown.


Fear is constricting the air from my lungs. I can only imagine the flushed red of my cheeks turning to blue. A sudden silence descends within my chaos, a silence my brain can not yet process. I’m left with an array of ringing in my ears. Without any indication of the time, I pull my blanket, fists still clenched, up to my chin just like I had when I was a child. I stare at the ceiling trying to find comfort in something up there, but nothing ever comes.


Anxiety dwells in my mind, and curiosity beckons me into his lair. My foot gradually searches for the floor, which seems miles away. I’m startled when my bare foot meets the coolness of the floor. Trying to tip toe across my darkened bedroom, the floor lets out a whine. All’s lost now, I’ve been found out. My intruder, he’s aware of my consciousness.


My only other option is to hurl myself into the shadows. His feet are quick. His footsteps sounding a revolution. He was going to finish what he had started when I was nine.


Before I can respond, the same familiar hand clasps my mouth. His meaningless wedding band digs into my jaw. I struggle. We violently slam into the dresser he built me, cracking the drawers and bruising my spine. His uncontrollable rage takes control, and my body crashes onto the coffee table. Glass shards are stabbing into my flesh. There’s nothing left. I can’t fight anymore. He thrusts my face to the ground.


Each time the blade enters his ice box of a heart, I relive this moment over and over. I was just a child then, but now, now I am prepared. After I lost count of how many times I had stabbed him, there’s a satisfying thud, and my torment is finally over. The blood saturated knife falls to the floor. Looking in the mirror with a devious smile, I’m covered in the blood-spattered color of shame and triumph.