I wake up sweating, gasping for breath and shaking uncontrollably. It happened again. The same stupid nightmare. I've been having them every single night since the accident. I take all my meds like I'm supposed to but they don't do much. I mean, sure they stop me from going crazy and insane but it's just a matter of time, right? The sleeping meds don't stop my nightmares. But then again, life itself is just one huge nightmare. It's not like I can tell any of my friends, and I sure as hell am not going to tell my therapist. He doesn't understand me at all. He says he does but we both know he doesn't. He's paid to say those things. I know that he would rather be at home with his wife and 2 beautiful children, watching movies or playing football in the back garden while his other half cooks dinner. He doesn't care about me or what I do, it's just his job. Who am I supposed to tell? My mum? My dad? My brother? No. Because I can't speak to the dead. It's because of them I'm having these god awful nightmares. Every night at exactly 4:05am I wake up with damn pyjamas because of the sweat and a closed up throat from breathing too heavy. It's always the same for me. I guess it's just something I'll always have to deal with.
I fix the braid in my dirty blonde hair and struggle to put the contacts in my sky blue eyes. I take one more look in the mirror, hating every freckle, every inch of smile that doesn't even exist anymore and disgusted at my dimples that make me look like a 9 year old with a sweet addiction. I finally tear my eyes away from the mirror, pick up my bag and head out the door. I forgot what it was like to have the sun beating down on my forehead. I squint my eyes at a shadow of a person at the end of my drive. I walk towards them and stop abruptly when I realise who it is.
A/N ~ I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Sorry, I know it's short but I didn't have a lot of time. Sorry for any errors, I'll fix them when I get that chance. I'll try and upload at least 4 times a week :)