Eyes open. A ball of sweat rolls cold down Shiloh's forehead obstructing her vision. She peels it away, rubbing at it until her vision clears.
Thirst. Her mouth is dry as sand after a long receded tide. The thick of her tongue sticks like flypaper to the roof of her mouth.
Water.
She throws off the covers. Smears of blood cover those covers, spread out from her legs and striping pieces of bed linen. She looks at it hesitantly. 'Is this a dream?' "...Fuck." She says touching the top of her inner thigh. 'A little early isn't it?' She throws the sheets back farther, heading into the bathroom. Amidst her soft steps, she hears the silent pat of droplets smacking against the floor. Her hand finds the knob to the bathroom, suddenly the door flies open, banging against the wall, bouncing off of it and half-way closing again.
The light clicks on, over exposing her iris, as she blinks there are little blotches of black that trip across her vision. In front of her, seemingly through her, walks a young woman dressed in a white night gown. Tarnished red everywhere below the waist. The woman is breathing heavy with matching groans, clutching her belly wounded-like. She takes hold of the empty towel-bar, but it snaps off landing on the floor. The woman now on her knees begins to speak and ask for help, but Shiloh can hardly understand her because she is speaking in Farsi. As she rolls over onto her belly, Shiloh finally realizes that this is her mother, roughly her age... pregnant with her. 'This has to be a dream' she thinks. But it's so real, and she feels so bad for her. She looks so helpless. She tries to comfort her, speaking softly. "It's okay." With one hand she reaches over to slide a bang from her mother's face, but she vanishes. Shiloh remains slumped over bathroom floor, blotches of blood covering her, and beneath her feet.
The doorway creeks open. Just beyond it. The shadowy outline, the fedora hat, the mangled shirt collar, the claws, of Freddy Krueger. He laughs "Aah, the birth of a child. What a miracle." She speeds at the door slamming it shut! Her scattery fingers find the lock, turning it shut. Her head rests against the door frame as the feelings of fear and sadness bubble and bulge into her throat, but manifest through her eyes.
"Leave me alone!" She pleads.
"You are alone..." he responds. Silence.
She slides away from the door frame, tears falling from her cheeks against the floor tiles. Her fear is disarming, even now. The tension has subsided. In it's wake is a terrible thought. The claws tear through the door, splintering it. She jumps away screaming frantically! "AH! Nooo! NO! Ahh God..." 'Why?' Her voice begins to weaken at the edge of her panic. She clutches her head. The claws pierce the door again! "Ah-ah-ah-HAH! NOoo! STOP! STOP IT! STOP IT! PLEASE!" She has buckled over now wrapping her arms around herself. "Why'reyou doing this to me!?" She cries, wiping the edge of her nose. Once again the claws break against the door, and she's yanked back by a nervous jolt. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" she demands spastically with all her agonized might.
She cowers, moving farther and farther back toward the wall. Her eyes sealed to the door the whole way. Before the end, she bumps into something soft. Something human. "HEY!" She twists around, his face is gnarled anger. His dirty leather-clad glove raises over the singed white of the bathroom walls, above his head. "Miss me?" He swipes down across her face. But she doesn't feel the blade, she wakes up shrieking, and thrashing in her bed.
She falls limp across the mattress. Outside the wail of a medical siren, blares blocks away. She pulls herself onward and goes straight to the bathroom. But upon opening the door. She is hesitant. When the knob turns and the door glides to a standstill, she is calm. Pulling away the mirror she grabs the only orange prescription bottle there, mixed in with her aspirin, caffeine pills, and Midol. She turns the label over to read it. "Hypnocil" At the bottom it reads: "WARNING: abuse may cause catatonia, coma and even death. Please consult your doctor for proper dosage."
She throws the bottle onto the floor and the cap pops off spilling the pills, spreading them at her feet, under the sleek round sink. Which she beats like a drum. If the drug wouldn't help what could she do. Another restless dream. A sleepless night.