I try to open my eyes despite a throbbing headache, and when I finally manage to, I am no longer in a shadowy cell.
My trembling hands instinctively reach for my face, searching for dried blood. There is no trace of it. I check my clothes as well, glance down, and see a clean white cotton nightgown, not a single red stain in sight.
I don't understand what is happening or why I am still breathing. I feel like I should be dead.
Unfortunately, this same nightmare repeats itself every night. In fact, falling asleep has become a difficult task these past few days.
I slowly rise from the bed and push aside the sheets that, just moments ago, kept me warm from the cold, and make my way to the bathroom. Once I stand before the mirror, I can't help but feel concerned at the sight of the deep circles under my eyes and the pale tone of my face. Carefully, I grab a hand towel and wipe away the many drops of sweat running down my forehead and neck.
My current appearance is horrifying, but even more disturbing is this nightmare that my mind seems determined to replay night after night.
I wish I knew the identity of that mysterious young man and his connection to me. The only detail I can recall is his wavy, white-colored hair, but I can't be sure—every time I try to picture him, his image appears blurry, as if he were deliberately hiding his identity.
Something deep inside me suggests this young man might have played an important role in my supposed death.
Suddenly, loud knocks at the door pull me from my thoughts, and I rush out of the bathroom. When I finally open it, I see my father standing there, asking if I am all right—he must have heard me talking in my sleep during the nightmare.
I assure him there is no need to worry, that I will get better with time, and I try to avoid his questions by faking a yawn and rubbing my eyes.
He raises an eyebrow and looks at me with suspicion, but refrains from digging deeper. He will likely try again this afternoon, when his mind is sharper.
How can I give him an answer when I myself still don't understand the reason behind my nightly torment?
I want to sleep peacefully, but I know that is probably impossible—not while death and the young man continue to haunt me.