The nightmare is always the same. No longer am I being tortured by my father, Lord Voldemort, but I watch helplessly as he tortures my daughter, Carrigan. Her beautiful brown curls fall in front of her teenage face and her midnight blue eyes look up at me with pleading tension.
Save me, they beg. Save me, mom!
But I can't. I can't move. I can only stand in a corner as Voldemort lifts his wand and jabs it towards Carrigan, who's small body succumbs to the spell he's shouted. She screams and cries out, collapsing and withering as her body shakes and squirms.
I cry out in protest and try to advance, but it's no use. I am defenseless in my nightmares.
When I wake, there will be tears on my eyes and pain in my heart. I'll roll over and stare at the blank wall of the bedroom, afraid to go asleep again, but unable to get up because the day doesn't provide much hope.
She is gone and I have yet to find her. She only exist in my dreams, my nightmares…my memories. I don't know how to find her and I am so afraid that I never will again.
The thought brings more tears to my eyes. So, I lay in bed and cry until the sun shines into the bedroom. A new day has come and it is time to get up, face the world, and search for Carrigan.
