My heart raced frantically. I looked all around me. There was a strange presence surrounding me. This presence was uninvited and unwanted. I turned around and saw a pale woman standing before me. Her long hair moved in the soft breeze. All of a sudden her eyes filled with fear and horror. She said one word, "HELP!"
I awoke in a cold sweat. My sheets were soaked, as was I. My long brown hair was a mess. My sweat had streaked my hair across my face and glued it in place.
I slowly got up and walked across my room to the full-length mirror that hung on the opposite wall. My mother had given me that mirror before she died. I looked at my dreadful reflection. Every morning I woke up to the same thing, hair wet, face blotchy, and a strange birthmark in the dead-center of my forehead.
"Catherine!" my father called from downstairs, "Time to come down for breakfast! Our flight leaves in six hours!"
"Coming!" I called.
I threw on a sweatshirt and an old pair of jeans. I brushed my hair quickly then pulled it back into a pony tail. I heard a crash from downstairs.
"Dad?" I called.
No answer. The front door slammed shut. I ran downstairs as fast as I could.
"Dad?" I called again.
Still no answer. I came into the kitchen and saw something red. A pool of read. I looked down and saw a body. My father's body.