Footsteps

I woke up to the sound of footsteps. It was getting nearer. I tried

to get up but I could not. An unknown force was preventing me from moving

every inch of my body except for my eyes. I looked around, but to my dismay,

sight was not much of a help given the pitch black darkness covering my room.

I sleep with the lights on, but tonight it was not turned on.

I always sleep with the lights on. Ever since the night I first

feared the dark. I remember it so vividly. Vivid enough to know it was not a

dream. I heard footsteps, but I did not mind. It was getting closer. But I

tried to sleep it off. Then I felt something on my forehead, like a light

tap, then, in a split second, a blunt, piercing pain followed the tap. I woke

up from shock as I felt my own blood racing down the sides of my face. I

looked in the mirror and saw my face covered with blood. The wound was

precisely right in the middle of my forehead. I told my Mom what had

happened. Surprisingly enough, she shrugged me off. She saw the blood, she

saw my eyes, but she did not feel my fear. Until now I still wonder how she

could brush me off just like that. Maybe because she and Dad just had a

fight. They always fought. Dad beats me. He thinks it's my fault his life

sucked. Dad wanted to leave us but Mom demanded him to stay. For Me. Mom

loved me and I loved her back. Well, here I was bleeding in front of her! How

could she?

I snapped out of the dillema for the footsteps were getting closer

and closer every second. Wishing it was just a nightmare, I tried moving my

toes so I'll wake up. I could not. I tried again. I woke up. I woke up and I

saw myself lying in my bed. To my surprise, I could still hear the footsteps,

now louder than ever.

I closed my eyes.

The sound of footsteps dissapeared.

I opened my eyes to see another pair of eyes. Deep black eyes..

staring right through me. Inches away from my face. It was like these eyes

had no soul beneath them. Of course..

there was none.

I recognize these eyes.. but I was still afraid of them.. and I know why.

Now I remember.

My Mom did not see my bloody face that night.

This room is as I remember it.

Nothing was changed except for the light that was now turned off.

The deep black eyes stayed where it was focused at-- on me. He

wanted to kill me. He tried to grab me. He tried to choke me. I did not even try to

move. But he can't touch me. Not anymore. Because I'm already dead. I have

been dead for a long time now. For too long. I have been waking up to the

sound of footsteps and opening my eyes to a bloody forehead.. for years. The

memory was vivid because it was the last memory I had. Dad shot me. Now he's

back to kill me again. But he can't touch me, because he's dead too. They

caught him. He died in the shootout.

Now his last memory is not being able to touch me.

Now he is helpless.

Now he is in his own nightmare.

I'll have eternal peace and he'll have eternal hatred.

Now I can sleep..

..and not wake up to the sound of footsteps anymore.