Sarah could not remember the last time she had managed to sleep through the night without a nightmare, though she didn’t mind so much anymore, nightmares were just something she had gotten used to. Early on, she had been afraid to sleep, knowing that the same omnipresent horror that whispered in her ear during the day was waiting to greet her with a roar once she lost consciousness. However, one can only be subjected to terror for so long before one becomes numb to it. It still made her anxious, in the same way that someone feels apprehension when they see a spider in the corner of their room, but live with that spider long enough and you come to accept it, as long as it stays in its corner. It was nights like this that the spider left the corner, where the terror was no longer familiar, but instead hit her with something she wasn’t used to. Even worse, was her shame in the fact that the thing keeping her up was something normal people took as a minor annoyance.
“Normal people”. Sarah’s mother chastised her every time she called other people that. She didn’t want her daughter to think of herself as abnormal or fundamentally flawed, but even though Sarah always apologized and said that she knew that was not true, it didn’t change the way she thought of herself. Her mother was, unintentionally, proving Sarah’s belief every day. They had both gone through the same trauma, but for some reason, her mother had come out the other side stronger while Sarah had stayed the same woRThleSs PieceE oF cRAp ShE AlWAYS WAS.
Sarah turned over and checked her phone. 4:00 am. She still had two hours left till her alarm would sound. Instead of wasting time trying to get a good sleep that would never come, she decided to pour over her notecards again. She sat up in bed, hearing the birds chirping outside her window. She wondered how many people knew that birds woke up at four in the morning. She supposed that that was one advantage of insomnia, even if it was such a minor one. That’s what several of the self-help books on her shelf said: look for the small positives in your life.
Sarah reached over to her nightstand, turned on her lamp, and picked up a stack of notecards. She had a presentation to give today at school, in front of the entire class, Who weRe GoiNg tO SeE JUsT HoW StuPID SHE WAS! Sarah took a deep breath and began running through the speech. She had gone over it almost constantly over the last week, trying to fine-tune her word choice and transitions. She had been assigned to explain the history of international disputes that led to the Glorious Conquest. She had everything ready, all the points laid out, the Insurrections, the Battle of the Black Crater, and the Divine King’s Ascension. All that was left was to deliver it.
She began to speak softly so as to not wake her Mother. Going through every point perfectly, she began to visualize herself giving the speech….in front of all her classmates. All those people were going to be listening, judging, and seeing HoW AWfuL ShE WAS. WHAT THE HELL WAS SHE THINKING. SHE HAD NEVER GOTTEN THROUGH A SINGLE DAY WITHOUT INCONVENIENCING SOMEONE, HER VERY EXISTENCE MADE LIFE WORSE FOR EVERYONE UNFORTUNATE ENOUGH TO BE IN HER PRESENCE!
Sarah dropped the notecards and clutched her head with both hands.
“Stop.” she whimpered softly.
WHY DON’T YOU STOP YOU USELESS BITCH!
“Please,” She said louder, her fingers digging into her skull like a vice.
STOP EMBARRASSING YOURSELF IN FRONT OF EVERYONE, STOP TAKING UP THEIR VALUABLE TIME, STOP MAKING THEM WASTE THEIR LIVES ON YOU JUST TO SEE YOU FAIL.”
Sarah let out a grunt of anguish that was just a little too loud. In an instant there was a knocking on the far wall, the one shared with her Mother’s room.
“Sweety,” Her Mother called. “Is everything all right?”
This was enough to snap Sarah out of it, at least a little. She pulled her hands away from her head, only now noticing that her fingertips were bloody. She felt it now, the sting of the fresh cuts on her head that her fingernails had ripped open. Sarah used to do this all the time when she was younger, but now she only did it when she was truly stressed. If her Mom found out she was doing this again, she would worry and HaVe To WaStE MOrE TIMe On YOU.
“I-I’m fine she said, grabbing some tissues from her side table and pressing them against her wounds. “I just had a nightmare.”
“Okay,” her Mother yawned.
Sarah felt a bit of relief when she heard the bed springs shift as her Mother settled back to sleep. She turned her focus back to the cuts, stepping out of bed and scurrying to the bathroom so she could use the mirror. Upon a quick examination, she found that the wounds were small and the bleeding minor. Her long hair would easily be able to cover it.
Sarah returned to her room and picked up the notecards. As she was gathering them together, she noticed a drop of blood on one of them. Her grip on the cards began to tighten in frustration. All she had to do today was speak in front of a class of fifteen people. It was a Friday in the last month of their last year of high school so it’s not like anyone was really going to pay much attention. Even if they did, who was going to remember, and no one was going to fault her for speaking, they had to, if anything they would blame the teacher, not her when HeR PresEnTATioN MaDE ThEm LauGH At HeR.
No, they won’t.
YeS THeY WiLL, YOu KNOW HOW AWFuLL YOU ARE GOING TO BE. HOW MUCH EVERYONE WILL BE CRINGING AS THEY ARE FORCED TO STARE AT YOUR DISGUSTING FACE AND HEAR YOUR SHRILL VOICE.
they won’t.
THEY WILL! YOU CAN FEEL IT EVERYWHERE YOU GO, PEOPLE LAUGHING AT YOU BEHIND YOUR BACK, THINKING HOW COULD THE GODS ALLOW SUCH A HORRIFYING BEING TO EXIST.
No, they don’t
AND THE WORST VICTIM IS YOUR MOM. SHE WORKS SO HARD FOR YOU. HOW MUCH OVERTIME DOES SHE PUT IN JUST TO MAKE SURE YOU CAN EVEN GO TO THAT SCHOOL. IT’S NOT LIKE YOU’RE GOING TO BE ANYTHING GREAT!
Please
SHE SLAVES AWAY AND SUPPORTS YOU BECAUSE SHE HAS TO, NOT BECAUSE SHE LOVES YOU!
Please
IF YOU REALLY LOVED HER YOU WOULD END HER SUFFERING
No
END EVERYONE’S SUFFERING
I can’t
YOU CAN! IT’S EASY, YOU ALREADY TRIED IT ONCE!
I…
HE WAS RIGHT YOU SHOULD DO IT!
……..
FREE EVERYONE FROM THE NIGHTMARE!
………
KILL-
The thoughts stopped when the knife slashed her arm. She kept a pocket knife under her mattress for moments like this. She hated doing it. She knew what her Mom would say if she caught her, but she had to. For some reason, cutting her arm was calming, it made the voices quiet and the world make sense. She grabbed some more tissues and sat against her bed, looking down and seeing with relief that she kept the cut shallow. The first time she did this she cut a bit too deep and had to be hospitalized.
You wanted to cut that deep.
Sarah pressed hard on the wound and winced. The pain brought calmness, it brought relief. Pain was, after all, what she deserved. The voice was right about everything it said. No matter how many books she read or positive affirmations she recited, she knew the truth. Every time she looked in the mirror she saw it. The nightmare wasn’t in her dreams or in her head. She was a loathsome parasite, a curse on the world. A living nightmare.
Bruin Armstrong Writing 