My eyes snap open, and I shoot up in my bed, sweat sticking to my neck. The quilt falls to the floor. My alarm clock is ready to go off in a few minutes.

The same nightmare… every single night for a month. I turn off my clock so it wouldn’t start shrieking uselessly. Trudging out of my bed and to the stairs, I creep down each step, curling my toes around the edges of the carpet. Waking my parents up at four o’ clock in the morning would obviously lead to trouble.

I’m not a morning person, but I’d learned that it was impossible to fall asleep again after having a nightmare like this one.

The kitchen light blinds me for just a moment as I flick it on, but as my eyes slowly adjust to the brightness, I grab one of the fancy cappuccino cups, which are stacked on the first shelf of the third cupboard.

As usual, the last image from my nightmare haunts me. His face… I hadn’t seen it, I hadn’t known what it was, but I knew it was a he…

It didn’t really matter, though; just another dream, no worries.