Menace

These images running through my head... A reminder of the nightmare I experienced, just minutes before. My throat, too parched and sore to talk... A memento of my screams. Blood sliding down my fragile arms... The show all of my insanity.

I’m Jaycee. I’m not crazy. Or maybe I am. My “friends” all think I am. My family do too. But he tells me I’m not. He says this is normal, that everyone gets nightmares. That we all wake up screaming 5 times a night. That we all scratch ourselves during out sleep, a sure reminder of the horrors I experience in my mind. His name is Evan.

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“Jaycee, it’s time to get up!” My mother screamed in my ear, the ending of the nightmare that was sure to come if I didn’t awaken. Mental note; Thank my mother.

I stumble out of bed, and take in my new bedroom as I’m about to walk out the door. It’s fairly nice. Sunshine yellow walls, with pictures of my friends from back home covering the holes in the paint. Polished wooden floorboards, in a charming mahogany colour, surrounded by white skirting boards. And against the far wall, underneath a big, white window, my bed lays, still destroyed from my writhing sleep. Mental Note #2; Make bed.

I make my way to the bathroom, nearly getting lost on the way. I mean... Our house isn’t big. Just new. A new routine for a new city, a new state, a new school and new friends. And for new nightmares. My parents keep trying to move cities, because they think they can “confuse the demon out of me”. But the nightmares follow. They change sometimes. And sometimes they stay the exact same.

For a while, my parents tried to ignore it. But once the old neighbours started to hear my screams, and see the scratches down my arms, they took me to a psychiatrist. He thought they were doing this to me. Me and Evan set him straight though. He still can’t figure out what’s wrong with me. So we run. We move to a different state. And try to start a new life. We find a new psychiatrist every time... But no one can help us

So I walk into the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror as I close the door. I’ve always thought of myself as a pretty average looking girl. Hair; Dark Blonde/Orange, mid length, curled or straight. Eyes; Pale green. Piercings; Both ears, two on each side. Lip, right side, lower lip, with a bar in it. Nose, left side, simple stud. See, nothing spectacular. But Evan says I am. He talks to me, almost whispering in my ear, saying I’m beautiful, that I’m spectacular. And then he smiles that absolutely gorgeous, mind blowing grin of his, and all I can see in myself is beauty. It’s like he brain washes me. But that’s not possible, is it? He’s my best friend.

Good morning, Jaycee It sounded so swwet and innocent, but as I glance in the mirror and see him staring back, I could have sworn I saw a hint of menace on his face. I have to be imagining it, right? He's my best friend. He'd never hurt me.