The Broken Glass

It's never the same dream. No, but it's always the same concept.
I am blind. I cannot see. I struggle to open my eyes. I scream inside my head. Wishing for a way out. A way out of this nightmare.
Then I can see again. My eyesight comes back. Everything I didn't want to loose I now have back. My sweaty palms begin to dry and my hearts pace begins to slow back into it's normal rhythm.
Strange things are happening. My sister walks towards me, brown ringlets bouncing around her waist as she approaches me. That's not the strange thing. As she walks she becomes blurry and begins to shrink.
Everything goes black.
I am blind.
I wake with a start. My palms are sweaty. My hearts pace beats a million miles an hour but I can see. I am not blind.
If I was to turn blind I would be grateful to be alive. I would learn to live without eyesight. The fact that I would have disability doesn't scare me. The fact that I won't be able to see everything I have. Everything I have worked so hard for. Everything I love. I wouldn't be able to enjoy the beautiful views of life. I think about this over and over. Turning the thoughts over in my head.
I swing my legs out of bed, slip on my slippers and head for the door.
My head feels groggy and images of last night come flooding back to me.
The flashing disco lights. The loud thudding of the music. The suffocating smell of cigarette smoke. The screams and shouts of the young guys and girls. Tiny girls in short skirts and crop tops. Large girls in tight dresses. Young guys watching them like hawks ready to swoop in for their prey.
The shots I took last night were a bad idea.
I scuff in my slippers and silk nightie down the hall to the bathroom.
The door is slightly ajar. I take a small step into the room and push open the door. I rub my eyes as I do when I'm tired and look up at the clock on the in front of the toilet. Next to the bath. 11:43am. I cross over to the shower. Turn it on. Shutting the door behind me. I sit on the toilet seat next to the shower. Not aware of my surroundings until I notice the shattered pieces of glass all over the sink.
I get up and cross over to the mirror above the sink. It has been smashed with something. Or someone. I stare at the glass still intact with the mirror. Each piece. Each crack is edged with blood and more is smeared across the unbroken pieces of mirror. Terror sets in. 'This can't be happening.' I think. I knew I shouldn't have gone out last night. It was too risky.
"Mum!!" I shout. When I see the droplets of blood of the ground next to the sink. More than droplets. A puddle has formed on the ground on the other side of the sink. I look around the room. Which now sways without my control.  I grip hold of the sink to stop myself from falling. There's no reply. There is a puddle of blood on the floor. The mirror has been shattered by what looks like could've been her head. I try to dismiss the thought out of my head. My mother is a strong women. She would have put up a fight.
Pictures race through my head as steam fills the room. She would have fought them off but there would've been too many. They would've cornered her. Threatened her even. Before smashing her head into the mirror. Placing a sack over her head and dragging her out.
I run from the bathroom. Blood is smeared along the carpet from their shoes. How didn't I see this when I got home. Too drunk. No, too blind. I notice more things when I'm intoxicated. a fear of mine. Blindness. Not just by sight. But also by the fact that I can't see the things that are most clear to me.
My mother's life now hangs. She will die if I don't find her.