My friend Jenna passed away in 2013.

Yet even after all these years, I've been having the same nightmare of her for a few nights now.

I'm in a desert. It was nighttime, and there was nothing but a vast expanse of sand all around me. I can feel the cold air bite at my skin. I shiver and rub my arms. Despite the stars that lit up the sky, I still felt fear in the dark and empty nightmare world I end up in every time I sleep. As always, I can't help but look up.

And I see her.

"Jenna?" I asked. She turned to me. I could make out all the features I missed. Long, ash blonde hair tied up to a side braid and beautiful sharp features on her pale face. As in the previous renditions of the nightmare, she wore a white sundress and wore a white garden hat. Her ghost-like appearance made our dark surroundings even more sinister.

Despite knowing what happens next, I take desperate steps toward her. I stumble from the cold and my exhaustion from not sleeping well the past few nights.

"Jenna! It's me, Hannah!" I gave her a weak smile.

As always, I was only met with her searing glare. She holds up her hand. It emitted a white glow. Though I knew there was good intention behind such an ethereal power, I knew by looking at it that this dream will not end well for me.

Then she charged at me.

I start to tear up as she came forward with that look of hatred that still haunts me. "No, don't!" I cry out pathetically. But it wouldn't matter. Jenna tackles me to the ground and starts wailing at me with her blows. Her eyes shone with that same bright white light, completely blocking my view of what are supposed to be piercing green eyes. Even in this I could feel the heat surge from her fists as they hit my skin over and over again.

"Jenna! JENNA! PLEASE, STOP IT!" I must have sounded like a wounded animal. But I could nothing more than cry out and beg for her to stop. I couldn't retaliate nor could I block her attacks. My tired muscles were too weak. And the assault never stops. Only God could decide when I wake up.

And thankfully, I do.

I'm never one to have a healthy pattern of sleep, or anything for that matter. So having my once-heavy eyelids shoot wide open at what could be three in the morning is nothing new for me.

I sigh and rub my eyes. I find that I fell asleep on the couch again. The TV flashed that message on the screen that Netflix gives when it's been on for a while:

Are you still watching Tiger King?

I've been watching that show again for a third time. I chuckle. Says a lot about me, doesn't it?

I was sweaty and more tired than ever. My hand struggles to find my phone in the dark but eventually finds it. After getting blinded by the burst of light from the screen, I could see I was only an hour off.

Four a.m.

I suppose I have time for some light reading before going back to sleep. I tap a few links on my phone. First stop is to see what MonstarzGirl is up to. I look to her deviantArt page and see that she's updated her Prince of Egypt story. I chuckle at Rameses being the usual jerk and Victoria (the self-insert) rolling with whatever punch he has to throw at her. She's always good at that.

I move on to the sadistic, yet fun Yvette's page and notice that she's posted the last of her latest macabre written work. Apparently, the giant robot guy killed the main lady. Still a better action story than Michael Bay's Transformers, if you ask me. There's also a picture she drew for said ending, but I decide against seeing it. Her visual representatives are pretty vivid in color and gore, and I've never been one for senseless bloodshed in writing. She's usually into drawing robotic characters and tells us about her side mechanical projects in her journals.

Lulu Calliope is next, but I go to her fan-fiction page instead. I click on the link of her Roger Rabbit story and skip to the last chapter. This is routine for me. Every night, I love to read those words that Jenna spoke to her two great friends who accompanied her on that literary adventure:

"This isn't the end! We'll see each other again!"

Not the end? Well, it felt that way to me when I found out you were gone.

Jenna Keith was not the kind of person who should have died when she did. She was a great writer and an even better friend to many on Fan-Fiction and deviantArt. She had flawless grammar and made herself a well-developed self-insert. She even gave Disney villains a perspective in which readers could relate and understand them. Disney villains were always our favorite subject to skype about. We'd always say to each other how if it were up to us, they would all have a happy ending as well. It's like we were a chosen few with this gift of understanding. Call it conceited, but we call it a blessing. Jenna, however, was the true blessing.

Though, she couldn't believe it herself. And as talented as she was, life had to be unfair and take her away from this world.

There were some that wrote poems and stories dedicated to her. All I did was read them. With the hole in my heart that I've had, I haven't felt good enough to write anything for her. I don't feel I'm worthy for such a thing, unlike Alicia, Lulu, and more of Jenna's closer friends. But if only they knew the unique effect she had on me.

Jenna had died of an illness. It stemmed from her belief that she didn't look good enough. That's the thing about people like her. They don't realize how perfect they actually are. I can't ever save her. I can't ever get her back.

I look out my window. The curtains were almost all the way closed save for a sliver of an opening in the middle. I can see an unusually bright star surrounded by littler ones. I smile a little. Even as an adult, making a wish on a star appeals me. Hey, if it helped me pass my standardized tests at school, it could be useful now.

I close my eyes.

"I miss you, Jenna. I wish…we can see each other one day."

I open my eyes back up. The star still hung in the sky like the indifferent ball of gas it really is. The pretty little liar.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. God, I could use a coffee.

I get up and head for the kitchen. I don't bother turning on the lights as I know my way around the place. I brew my coffee in the Keurig (as you would at four in the morning) and yawn out my night of inevitable exhaustion.

Creak.

The heck?

My head snapped up to the sound of floor creaking. In turn, my brain flashed to the possibility of a burglary. It came from the living room. I slowly go to the broom that is set by the pantry door and hold it up like a katana.

I round the corner to the living room. I could see no one around.

I flick on the light.

Still no one.

I groan and rub my neck. It's already getting stiff. I really need more sleep if I'm starting to hear things. I look at the TV screen and see the menu to Disney Plus. I grab the remote with my free hand and skim through the menu to pick which movie to fall asleep to.

Hold up.

I don't have a Disney Plus account.

Creak. My whole body stiffens up. I drop the remote, but still had the presence of mind to keep a tight grip on the broom. My head slowly turns to the intruder standing right behind me.

He was three feet tall.

And a duck.

"Why hello there! Professor Von Drake at your ser—"

"AAAAAAAA!" I swing the broom at his face, completely decking him to the ground. The intruder landed with a thud on the carpet.

He rubbed his bruising cheek. "OUCH! Lady, listen to me!"

I hold my ground and keep my broom steady and aimed in his direction. "Stay back! I'm warning you! Don't make me get out the Swiffer!"

The sleep paralysis demon claiming to be a German scientist duck gets up and dusts himself off. "And here I thought having the darn Disney Plus account on screen would soften you up. Yet here you are swinging at old men! You kids today have no respect."

"Listen guy, I'm an adult. I pay my taxes. And I know there's no way that a Disney duck can just Edward Cullen his way in my home in the middle of the night. Now WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?"

He approaches me slowly, "You need to come with me. My world is in deep danger. And according to my research, you are one of the few people who can help. Now let's just calmly go outside toward my giant van and we can—"

"Oh you'd like that, wouldn't you science boy?" I hit the intruder again and grab my phone before running to the bathroom and slamming the door shut. I hold the door closed with my foot as the Professor beats on the door.

"Miss Hannah! It is important that you leave with me immediately!"

I dial 911. Immediately, I'm met with an indifferent voice.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"There's an intruder in my house!" I cry.

"Mm-hm. Okay honey, where are ya calling from?"

Before I could tell her, I hear the sound of wood being cut. I look up and see a small hole being cut out of my door. A pistol finds its way through.

"Oh hell…"

Shoomp. A dart gets shot at my neck. I slump to the ground.

The last thing I heard was the operator on the line going, "Honey I hear ya, but 'hell' is not specific enough."