At this point in the dream, my hands would be starting to sweat; I knew what was going to happen. As we reached the top, it would start raining. The rain getting heaver and heaver, the sky looking like an angry monster about to explode. The car would break down. Every night, the car would break down, and mum would start cursing. Every night.. I would get out the car.
‘Sophie, are you in bed yet? Lights off, now!!’ mum shouted up the stairs.
I knew what was coming.
And every night, I see that same little fox that darts past me like it knows what’s going to happen. Like its part of it. i get out of the car to check if the tyres been punctured, but again, every night, its not. I check every tyre carefully, but no, its not that.
‘It must be broken down mum’, I call to her.
I get into my pink pajamas and climb into bed, and tell myself, like I do every night that it wont happen again. A deep down feeling tells me different though. I switch off my light and close my eyes.
After I tell mum its broken down and hear a loud ‘BANGBANGBANG’, I get off my hands and knees and look up to the car. In the car I see something disgusting. Something so awful and shocking I just stand still. I freeze to the spot and look. In front of me is my car, and inside the car are my parents. My parents, and sister, covered in blood looking limp; and next to the car, is a man standing there, about 6’3 and glaring at me holding a black revolver in his gloved hands. I know what he’s done, and I know what he’s going to do. Then I wake up.
And that’s it. Every night, im faced with death, and I always wake myself up in time. I know no one would believe me if I tell them, so I just keep it to myself. The thought of the dream sends a shiver down my spine. I push it to the side and convince myself I won’t dream it again. I fall asleep quickly on my warm cozy bed, and then I start to dream.
‘BANGBANGBANG’ I hear, and then, for the first time ever, the gunman points the revolver at me.
I have always wondered what its like to be looking down the barrel of a gun. Now I know. I never woke up from that dream. That next morning my parents found me lying in my bed with a gunshot wound in my head. I was dead. I had met death.
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