The darkness around me feels more enjoyable than one might think. There are many sounds, tones, textures, smells, and so much more that provide people and objects their own stories, such as my dad. My dad does not come home often because he works abroad a lot but he always sends messages to me. I like to listen to his resonant voice answer my questions about his trips. When he visits, he pulls me into tight hugs and holds my hand in his and I can always feel the rough calluses on his palms. He usually takes me to our favorite café, Minnow’s Corner, when he visits and Dee would follow. Dee has watched over me since I was young and is the only person my dad trusts with me. Dee has soft hands, but they are strong like dad’s. Dee has long and silky hair that she lets me play with and a voice with both the power of a warrior and gentleness of a breeze. And it was Dee’s voice that reads to me stories as I lay in bed, the darkness changing from one of my world to a darkness of dreams.

The first thing I notice is that the darkness encompassing the dream feels abnormal, the darkness that covers me right now felt different from the darkness I grew up with. I feel uneasy, yet the surrounding sounds of chattering crowds seems peaceful. My unease grows as distant screams occur from far off, followed by gunshots. The panic begins to spread as the people nearby cry loudly in fear and push past me, leaving a warm presence around me.

I feel as the world around me warps and the scene changes. I am now at the source of the panic. I feel fear as I cower behind what I believe is a table, a sticky substance on the cold floor touching my feet. I feel myself being lifted by familiar hands and transferred to another.

“Delilah, get Lily out of here!” I hear my father shout, as I notice the sound of a gun being loaded next to me. I shift in Dee’s arms and cling onto her, my arms linked around her neck. The shooting continues as I feel Dee crawling, knowing that she is trying to work her way to the door. When she exits the cafe, Dee begins to stand, then another shot goes off as she trips. Dee has been shot.

I am woken up by a gentle shake from Dee.

“Wake up, Lilly. You need to wake up. You are only having a night terror, you’re safe.” I hear her say. My hands grip the soft sheets as I sit up, warm tears stream down my face. She hands me a cup of water as she combs her fingers through my hair. She tries to comfort me by humming a lullaby but I barely pay attention.

It was only a night terror, but it felt so real. It was only a night terror, but I can’t shake off my unease. It was only a night terror, and I choose to believe her. Unknowingly I would soon regret my decision, as I close my eyes, falling back to sleep.