I walk into my room and set my alarm for the next morning. It’s 10:30 now. I crawl into my bed and pull the blanket up around me. I wonder if I’ll get sleep tonight. I hope so because the lack of it is taking over my life. I can’t pay attention in school because I’m so unbearably tired. When people talk to me I zone out. My friends don’t even try anymore. I lay in bed thinking about my day… and I realize I don’t remember most of it. I slept right through my alarm this morning. After all, I had only fallen asleep an hour ago.

This has been going on now for over two months. I went to the doctor and she prescribed me sleeping pills. I took them for a while but they were just making things worse. Not only was I still awake, but I thought horrible things, like the day I had the urge to jump off my third floor balcony. That was what made me stop the pills. Now I lay here and try my hardest to let the sleep pull me under.

I guess not sleeping isn’t that bad. Not compared to what it’s like when I do sleep anyway. The nightmares are unbearable. There’s been so many, all of them different, yet so much the same. There’s always the same girl, but she’s always doing something different. I wonder who she is, and why she won’t leave me alone when I sleep.

It’s midnight now. I still lay awake in bed trying to sleep, trying so hard. I get up and turn on my radio switching stations until there’s one playing soft music. I climb back into my bed and close my eyes. I let myself listen to the music that is slowly filling my room with beautiful sounds.

It’s 2:00 now. I feel my eyes slowly closing. I try to fight it but the tiredness is unbearable. I finally give in and fall into the dark place that is sleep.

There she is again. The girl that is so familiar to me. I fear what she will do next. I look at her, her amber eyes and her unnaturally dark hair she looks back at me and I cringe for her eyes are no longer amber. They turn darker and darker… until they are almost black. And she still stands there. And stares. I try to turn away, but some unstoppable force is keeping me from doing this. A little girl appears in my dream. She’s so cute with her blonde braids and her pink jumper. She’s wearing brown mary-janes. I used to have a pair just like that when I was little.

The girl with the black eyes turns to her.

“Emma.” She spoke the name in a whisper. It was one of the only things I’ve ever heard her say in these dreams. I look at this little girl, Emma and fear what will most definitely happen to her.

“Mommy, no!” The little girl screams.

It was almost as if she knows what is coming. I do. And I want to scream too. I want to yell horrible things to this person for wanting to hurt such a cute, innocent girl. But that same force, the one that is always there, is keeping me from doing this. Questions run through my head. Is this girl with the black eyes, this horrible girl, really her mother? How could such a person have a child as adorable and innocent as this one? And then, the most important question: What will happen to her?

Like all of the dreams before something is going to happen to this girl, and there’s no way to tell what it will be. I’ve watched this black eyed girl torture so many other people in my dreams. Some of them go quick…others hang on for what seems like forever, but they all die in the end.

I fear for this girl’s life. Somehow, she is different from the others. I feel a connection to her. A strong bong pulling me toward her, but still it is not stronger than the force. The black eyed girl grabs the girls hand and holds it tight. Again I try to scream… but of course, nothing comes out. She leads her into the room. The room where so many horrible things take place in my nightmares. I try to close my eyes, to shield my mind from the painful memories of past nights. The force stops me from doing this. I hate this, how no matter how much I try, I have no control over my own dreams. This force is always there, always forcing me to watch these things that reel through my mind. I wonder, what is wrong with me that makes my mind create such horrible images.

I concentrate on Emma, praying for her, that she will somehow make it through this unlike so many before her.

“Mommy why are you taking me here? What’s wrong mommy?” Emma asks, close to tears.

I too am close to tears. The girl with the black eyes brings Emma closer and closer to the chair, the horrible chair. She puts Emma in the chair and fastens both of the straps around her wrists, them moves to the ones on her ankles. Emma is crying now. She looks at me. It is the first time she has even acknowledged my presence here. She opens her mouth to say something to me. . .

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP. I open my eyes and wonder where I am. The annoying beeping still hasn’t stopped. I look to my left and see the bright blue numbers of my alarm clock.

It’s 6:00 now. Time to go to school. Still so tired…