Nightmare

Some years later

"Happy Birthday Seraphina!"

I sighed and heaved the duvet over my eyes, desperately hanging onto the final pieces of my swiftly passing nightmare. Molten gold eyes exploded behind my lids, forming a river of crushed crimson metal and twisted flesh. I tried to pull air into my lungs by putting my palm to my throat, but thick, black smoke danced down my airways, causing me to cough and splutter.

"Darling, you don't wanna be late for your last first day back, do you?"

It seemed like my head was underwater when the speaker was so far away. The sirens were too loud for me to reach out and touch it.

They persisted in blaring.

I choked in a weak voice, "Make it stop, please!" as curling smoke put a hand around my throat and squeezed until I started to wheeze.

"Seraphina?"

The voice was much softer, with a lilting accent that matched mine, not at all like the deep voice that tormented my dreams. A gasp for air ripped through my chest, making me scramble to my feet and look around my bedroom wildly. My body was covered in a layer of chilly sweat that gleamed in the early morning light, akin to slippery oil.

"Daddy?" I whimpered in helplessness, blinking twice as I tried to locate the source of the quiet voice that was addressing me.

"Seraphina?"

The new voice was thick with fear and powerlessness, laced with care. I took a mouthful of smokeless air and exhaled deeply in relief as my eyes acclimatized to my dark lilac chamber. I saw two pale blue eyes that were warily observing me.

I stammered, trying to breathe too quickly, and managed to say, "Mom?" in a trembling voice.

Disregarding me, she walked confidently into my room, her eyes never wavering. Upon arriving at the foot of my bed, she displayed a nervous expression on her lips.

"Was it the same nightmare?"

I gently nodded, averting my eyes from my bloodied nails because there was no use in arguing the obvious. The nail was a narrow strip encircled by tearing skin after they were bitten to a stub. I chewed on my pinky in the hopes that Mom wouldn't question me anymore, but I also made a mental point to stop my anxious behavior.

"Maybe you should book an appointment with Dr. Emily? You haven't been to therapy since last year and she did tell you to come back if the dreams returned. Should I call her for you?"

I shook my head angrily at Mom and saw myself sitting in a boxy room with an excessive number of flower pots, being coaxed to recall my recurrent nightmares. Thick curls slapped my cheek, brushing across my skin before collecting like brown paint about my waist.

Please understand that while Dr. Emily Moore was genuine, kind, and an exceptionally wonderful listener, her over-specialization in her field was unsettling. She was way too perceptive for my comfort and knew just what questions would make me lose it. Her warm brown eyes could see right through the stiff walls I had built around my memories, and I didn't like that.

She was by far the best therapist I'd seen in the last eight years, and she was able to temporarily calm my dreams. However, as my guilt grew, so did the nightmares, and I was unable to bring myself to accept her assistance any longer.

I desired to forget my dreams, not to discuss them.

I blurted, "No! Don't call her!" before donning an expressionless mask and dismissively waving a hand. "I mean, don't waste her time. This dream was a one-off; you know that I haven't had one in almost a month."

Mom's concern softened as my lie lingered in the atmosphere, weighing down and covering her like a thick blanket of honey.

"Really? You look like you haven't slept in days dear."

I forced a weary smile and lifted my eyebrows.

"Are you calling me ugly Mom?"

She made the bed dip and sat down next to me, chuckling softly. Her eyes were filled with a depressing despair that was not hidden by her dazzling smile. It was a very depressing day.

"No sweetheart, of course not but you should take it easy today."

I looked up at her, putting my ninth birthday behind me and straightening my back.

"I'm taking it easy," I muttered, pulling myself out of my cozy bed while straightening my tangled pajamas.

Mom was staring at my back the entire while I was moving about my room and frantically seeking for my wayfarer brown-rimmed spectacles. Even though it was my birthday, I didn't think it was worth the trouble to put on my contacts or get dressed up for the occasion.

"If you don't want to go to school I'm going to visit your father after breakfast, would you like to come?"

I wiped the sleep from my eyes, looked at the pool of sunlight that filled the carpet, and put on my glasses. "I'll pass Mom. You know, with it being the first day of my senior year and all that stuff," I said. "I visited him yesterday so I'm not in a rush to see him. I can wait until after school."

Her flawless blond eyebrows vanished under her tousled bangs, curved upward to correspond with her tense lips.

"I already emailed your form tutor and Principal Jenkins. He permitted you to miss your first period. And you already have your timetable printed out so you won't be missing out on much if that's stopping you dear."

It was not that I didn't want to go with her; I just wanted some alone time on this particular day, of all days. Mom looked at my sad face for a moment, then she nodded sympathetically and walked up to give me a soft kiss on the temple.

"I know that today, like every birthday, is going to be hard. Hopefully, school will be the perfect distraction then."

I nodded and slowly let go of the knot in my chest before briskly walking by her to use the restroom. Birthdays were meant to be joyous occasions, but mine was marred by an unending pit of sorrow, sometimes referred to as grief.