It Started With A Concussion ??

It was so, so quiet.

Too quiet as I lifted my head from the pillow. Looking around my room, everything was still, the view outside my window still dark.

It must be the middle of the night.

There was a knock at my door. Two, actually. One. Two. They were light, yet the only thing I could hear. I sat up and got out of my bed, hearing my floorboards creak as I walked towards my door.

Placing my hand on the doorknob made my stomach churn, but the unwanted feeling didn't stop me from pulling the door open. Only, when I saw who was standing in front of me, did I wish that it had.

By presence alone did I know who it was. His grainy skin. His hollowed face. His greasy hair. His scruffy, unkempt beard. His alcoholic stench.

I think I'm gonna puke.

The little oxygen I had leaves my body. My stomach plummets. My head starts to spin as I take a step back. No. No. No. No.

His touch stings as he harshly grabs my arms, pulling me closer to him. I try to fight his grip, but he's too strong, overpowering me as he pushes himself into my room.

I keep thinking back to that night. The night he followed me into the store, barely sober, traumatizing me half to death.

He can't be here. How is he here?

He looked down at me with his aged eyes, his smirk sending a shock of fear down my spine. I wanted to struggle, but I was barely able to. My mind and my body were in panic mode, yet I was stuck in place.

I gasp and feel myself starting to tremble as he shoves me onto my bed. I scamper back but he gets on top of me, pinning my arms down by the sides of my head.

"Why aren't you a pretty little lady." His voice was low and bitter, disgusting every fiber in my body. My eyes start to tear as I understand the inevitable.

I wanted my heart to beat. But it stopped. I wanted to protect myself. But I was paralyzed. I wanted to scream. But I had no voice.

I can't breathe.

"Don't be scared." He whispers into my ear.

I. Can't. Breathe.

I wake up, gasping for air, coughing as I roll to the side. I steady myself, but quickly check every part of my body to make sure I'm okay. I wipe my forehead which broke out in a cold sweat before calming my ragged breaths.

When I realize it was just a dream-or nightmare-I'm finally able to relax. Looking out the window, it's still dark, but I know I'm in my own body. My real body.

I grab my phone and check the time. It had just turned four in the morning and I rubbed my eyes. Having little hope of going back to sleep I stand up and turn on the shower.

I'd do anything to calm myself down right now. If that means standing under burning hot water for twenty minutes, then I'll stand under burning hot water for twenty minutes.

I washed my body and just stood there, telling myself that I'm okay. This isn't the first time I've had this nightmare. It's the second time actually. And it was more scary than the last.

I wonder why I'm starting to have them now. I fell asleep fine the night it happened, but recently, the events seem to be haunting my sleep. I barely slept last night and I know I'm not going to bed for a while.

I throw on a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts, twisting my hair into braids before pulling up the blinds up on my window. I wanted to see how things were at this time of night. There wasn't really a lot to see, but the moon was beautiful and everything was astonishingly still.