I wrench myself from the endless pit of sleep. Gasping for air, I sit up and rub the image from my eyes. My lungs heave and my body tries to relax. Deep breaths. In, out. In, out. My heart continues to pound and my hair is still standing up on the back on my neck. The images from the nightmare are burned into my mind. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and slip my feet into the plush slippers my mom gave me for Christmas last year. I smile as I recall the memory. I was so happy then. It was easy being happy about something so simple. A lot has changed since then. 
I stand up and walk to my closet and swing open the door. The cold air tickles my skin as I reach inside and feel for the soft material.  I find it within seconds and wrap the robe around my shoulders, the warmth welcoming my presence. The floor squeaks underneath my feet as I walk down the hallway to the kitchen. The darkness envelops my mind, slowing down time and making sounds louder. The floor turns from carpet to wood and I turn right, looking for the island. My fingertips brush the granite countertop, my black nail polish reflecting the moonlight. I know the lightswitch is only a few paces from there. Holding my breath, I walk into the unknown, arms outstretched waiting to find the nearby wall. My hands connect with the smooth surface and I down to the lightswitch. Brightness fills the room and I turn, letting my eyes adjust. The spots settle down and I move towards the fridge. Eating always helps me calm down.
I pour a glass of milk and take a couple cookies from the pantry. I plop down on the couch, cross my legs and face the television. I know that I won’t be going back to sleep anytime soon, so I might as well catch up on my favorite show, “Ghost Whisperer.” The T.V. flashes on and I make my way to Netflix. I watch the show and slowly munch on my treat, savoring the sweet taste on my tongue. I sit watching and just as the good part starts to play, the T.V. flashes off. I groan in frustration and stand up, heading to the fuse box to see what the problem is. As I take my first step the floor squeaks about 20 feet from me. My heart pounds in my chest ,the blood roars in my ears. I shift silently to face whatever is approaching. The moonlight streams in a steady beam through the window behind me and a face appears. I scream, the sound cutting the air like a knife. But I recognize the face in front of me. I recognize the eyeliner, the short choppy hair, the blue eyes and the black lipstick. It’s me. The girl in front of me opens her mouth as if to speak, but then lets out a horrible cry and her eyes roll back into her head. Her body seizes and she falls to the ground. Her face conforms to an ugly being that I can not recognize. Blood dripping out of her open mouth and teeth sharpening to a point. Her eyes turn into endless pits of despair. She crawls towards me. Tortured sounds escape from her mouth. She reaches for my throat. Her cold bony hand grabs my skin, and my body gravitates towards her. I turn to run, but my body continues backwards, combining with hers. I open my mouth and start to scream, but it turns to a roar as I become one with this horrible monster.
I jerk upright letting out a yell, fighting to get away from this being. Sweat runs down my face and tears burn my eyes. I look around and realize that I am still in bed. I smell the cinnamon fragrance that I sprayed just hours before. My heart slows and I begin to breath normally again. The pressure around my heart lessens and I breath deeply. I get out of bed and make my way to the bathroom, just across the room, desperately searching for water. The light flashes on and I make eye contact with myself in the mirror. The nightmare burns the back of my eyelids. The feeling of the horrible beast runs through my veins. I try and focus on reality while the grim dream continues its presence. I stare at the way my hair falls in an uneven mess and the previous day´s eyeliner smudges my face. I stare at the electric blue eyes that pierce the souls of people around me. The image of the illusion fades away.
I felt this nightmare,was more than a dream. It was a message.
My heart pounds and the images flash through my head. The scary part of the dream was not how I looked, or that I was becoming this monster. The fear was that I saw that girl everyday in the mirror. I saw that horrible looking freak. I'm my own demon, and I need to be set free before it eats me alive.