Living in my ImaginationI turned around and I shrieked. I saw my dad with the knife in his heart. That was how Ihad remembered him as. The blood was dripping on the floor and getting on my feet. I backedaway more frantic and frightened than ever, and then I stumbled over our shredder and it turnedon. I jumped from the noise and then turned it off and looked at where the blood was, but it wasgone.By now someone had grabbed my shoulders and I screamed. My mom hugged me,knowing that I was just having hallucinations. I cried in her shoulder leaving it wet and sticky,with some mucus. She wiped my eyes with a tissue and I blew my nose.“Sophie? Can you talk?” she asked, still holding me.I nodded, still a bit shaky from my hallucination.It was terribly scary to live in paranoia and post traumatic stress constantly. And also toknow that you’ve been through so many therapists that just made it worse or couldn’t seem tohelp at all.“What was it this time?” she asked it softly and stroked my tangled mess that was calledhair.“D-dad. I s-saw the knife in h-his h-heart. A-and b-blood was o-on the fl-floor,” Ishivered and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to erase the awful picture from my crammed mind, but it was permanently there, glued and stapled from years of thinking about him.“Oh, sweetie…” my mom mumbled in my hair.She half sang and half hummed me a home-made lullaby that dad and her used to sing tome a lot when I was younger and had nightmares. It was to the tune of
Twinkle, Twinkle. Don’t worry, just sleep. Don’t be afraid, don’t weep. I will always be here, Never far, always near. Don’t worry, because... I love you, Sophie.
And somehow that always put me to sleep. It worked like magic and I was snoring softlyfor who knows how long…I was with my mom, my protector, my armor of hearts.I woke up dazed in the middle of the night and in my bedroom.