Chapter One
~ The Dream ~
The dream always starts the same way.
There’s a waterfall where crystal clear water cascades over jagged rocks and lands in a beautiful pool before continuing to flow downstream. Birds soar through the sky as the sun shines down over the forest.
The warmth from the rays of the sun feels good against Dawn’s skin. Across the stream there’s a mother deer and a baby deer standing side by side drinking from the water. Peace and tranquility surrounds them.
The forest is alive with sounds: crickets chirping, birds singing, frogs croaking. It’s a sweet melody that only a few get to hear. Even the sound of the water crashing against the rocks is pleasant.
The sweet smell of fresh flowers fills the air as buzzing bees fly above their delicate petals. Cute furry bunnies hop along, their noses twitching as they play together. This is the part of the dream Dawn likes.
This is the part where she walks to the edge of the river and drops to her knees. She stares down into the crystal clear water, gazing at her reflection. Normally, seeing herself sends her into a panic attack. Everything about her looks disturbs her.
According to her parents and her psychiatrists, she doesn’t see herself the way others see her. However, for a brief moment, when she dreams, she’s able to stare into the water and see a normal eleven year old girl staring back at her.
She’s able to see the girl everyone claims she is: a pretty girl with brown skin the same color as the creamy caramel she drizzles over her ice cream. An intelligent girl with dark brown eyes that are currently crinkled at the corners, because she’s smiling.
Her curly black hair is falling over her shoulders in disarray because she’s been running through the woods, chasing rabbits. This girl doesn’t look scary, neither does she look crazy or like a habitual liar. She looks normal. But this normalcy only lasts for a moment.
The dream always ends the same way.
Dark clouds roll in and the sun is replaced with the moon. The lake she’s staring into begins to turn red. Soon the water falling from the waterfall and the water travelling downstream is full of blood. She can tell it’s blood from the way it smells. It’s not a scent she can describe.
She just knows that whenever she smells it, there’s blood around. It’s an odor she hates, almost as much as she hates the way she looks, almost. When the water turns completely red Dawn tries to move away from it.
The grass she’s standing in disappears and is replaced by thick mud that is too deep for her to trudge through. She tries to leave, but her hands and knees sink deeper into the muck. No matter how hard she pulls and struggles to get free, she’s unable to pull herself away, just as she’s unable to tear her eyes away from her image.
Her gaze is glued to the once normal looking reflection. Though the water is dark with blood she can still see herself clearly. Her skin has turned pale, almost grey. Her lips now have a bluish tint to them. Her eyes have widened. They stare back at her in shock and horror.
Her once bouncy curls are now wet and stringy and her body quakes as she sobs – not the real her that is trapped in the mud, but the reflection of her, that is trapped in the bloody lake. All of these changes are happening to her reflection, the image that no one else sees, the image that haunts her when she’s asleep and when she’s awake.
She watches as tears of blood slide down the face of her reflection. If she was able to lift her hand to her own face she would find it dry. She has never cried. Not even when she was frozen in fear, as she was now. As always, the reflection reaches for her. Its arm is slightly twisted at the elbow in an odd way.
Dawn’s real arm isn’t twisted that way. She tries to lean back, to move away from it. The arm stretches forward, breaking through the water and coming closer to her. She can see the reflection’s lips moving.
She
~ The Dream ~
The dream always starts the same way.
There’s a waterfall where crystal clear water cascades over jagged rocks and lands in a beautiful pool before continuing to flow downstream. Birds soar through the sky as the sun shines down over the forest.
The warmth from the rays of the sun feels good against Dawn’s skin. Across the stream there’s a mother deer and a baby deer standing side by side drinking from the water. Peace and tranquility surrounds them.
The forest is alive with sounds: crickets chirping, birds singing, frogs croaking. It’s a sweet melody that only a few get to hear. Even the sound of the water crashing against the rocks is pleasant.
The sweet smell of fresh flowers fills the air as buzzing bees fly above their delicate petals. Cute furry bunnies hop along, their noses twitching as they play together. This is the part of the dream Dawn likes.
This is the part where she walks to the edge of the river and drops to her knees. She stares down into the crystal clear water, gazing at her reflection. Normally, seeing herself sends her into a panic attack. Everything about her looks disturbs her.
According to her parents and her psychiatrists, she doesn’t see herself the way others see her. However, for a brief moment, when she dreams, she’s able to stare into the water and see a normal eleven year old girl staring back at her.
She’s able to see the girl everyone claims she is: a pretty girl with brown skin the same color as the creamy caramel she drizzles over her ice cream. An intelligent girl with dark brown eyes that are currently crinkled at the corners, because she’s smiling.
Her curly black hair is falling over her shoulders in disarray because she’s been running through the woods, chasing rabbits. This girl doesn’t look scary, neither does she look crazy or like a habitual liar. She looks normal. But this normalcy only lasts for a moment.
The dream always ends the same way.
Dark clouds roll in and the sun is replaced with the moon. The lake she’s staring into begins to turn red. Soon the water falling from the waterfall and the water travelling downstream is full of blood. She can tell it’s blood from the way it smells. It’s not a scent she can describe.
She just knows that whenever she smells it, there’s blood around. It’s an odor she hates, almost as much as she hates the way she looks, almost. When the water turns completely red Dawn tries to move away from it.
The grass she’s standing in disappears and is replaced by thick mud that is too deep for her to trudge through. She tries to leave, but her hands and knees sink deeper into the muck. No matter how hard she pulls and struggles to get free, she’s unable to pull herself away, just as she’s unable to tear her eyes away from her image.
Her gaze is glued to the once normal looking reflection. Though the water is dark with blood she can still see herself clearly. Her skin has turned pale, almost grey. Her lips now have a bluish tint to them. Her eyes have widened. They stare back at her in shock and horror.
Her once bouncy curls are now wet and stringy and her body quakes as she sobs – not the real her that is trapped in the mud, but the reflection of her, that is trapped in the bloody lake. All of these changes are happening to her reflection, the image that no one else sees, the image that haunts her when she’s asleep and when she’s awake.
She watches as tears of blood slide down the face of her reflection. If she was able to lift her hand to her own face she would find it dry. She has never cried. Not even when she was frozen in fear, as she was now. As always, the reflection reaches for her. Its arm is slightly twisted at the elbow in an odd way.
Dawn’s real arm isn’t twisted that way. She tries to lean back, to move away from it. The arm stretches forward, breaking through the water and coming closer to her. She can see the reflection’s lips moving.
She
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