Blood gushed from the wound as she touched it.
The other girls joined in, twisting their faces in pain as they dug their fingers into their numbers, tracing them slowly.
I screamed as the pain in my forehead grew more intense, like someone was cutting into my flesh. I raised my hand, touching my forehead and pulling it away to see crimson blood smeared across the tips of my fingers. I spun around quickly, my eyes wide as I looked at my mom and David.
“It looks good on you, Claire. You look...complete,” David said with a grin on his face. His dark eyes bore into me, his expression filled with lust.
I have to get out of here , I thought, turning quickly and running down the aisle. I slammed into the double doors at the back of the church, stumbling into the hallway as I clutched my forehead with one hand. The pain was so intense that I couldn’t think straight anymore.
I ran as fast as I could, finding a bathroom and hurrying inside. When I finally came to a stop in front of a mirror, holding myself up by the sink, a scream tore from my throat at the sight.
Carved deep into the flesh on my forehead was a crooked number seven.
I woke up screaming. Screaming so loud that I scared myself. My mom was up in a split second, grabbing my shoulders and staring into my eyes.
“Claire, baby, it’s all right. I’m here. You’re safe,” she spoke, pulling me to her chest and smoothing my hair down. I had been sleeping in her room with her for the past few nights, afraid of being alone in mine, and also afraid of being so close to David’s house. The thought of only a wall separating me from his house was almost enough to make me tremble in fear.
Mom held me close to her, rubbing my arm and kissing the top of my head. I felt so bad for waking her up, but she didn’t seem to mind at all. She just let me cry while she did her best to console me.
“Do you want to tell me what your dream was about?” she asked softly.
I shook my head no, snuggling deeper into her embrace.
Mom sighed, but didn’t push me for an answer. When it finally hit me that my dream was just dream, I pulled away from Mom and excused myself to the bathroom. The hardwood floors in the hallway were cold against my bare feet, and I welcomed the warmth from my plush, bathroom rug when I entered. I flipped the light on, breathing a sigh of relief when I looked at my reflection in the mirror and saw that my forehead was still the same; tan, and a little pimply, but free of any gruesome numbers. It was irrational of me to think there would be something there, but the dream had felt so real. I could still feel the pain searing my skull as if someone had actually taken a knife to my head.
Filling my lungs with a deep breath of air, I let it out slowly, trying to collect myself. It was just a dream , I found myself repeating in my mind. I needed to remind myself that to keep from getting too worked up. Turning the cold water on, I cupped my hands under the faucet, splashing the water on my face. The cold only served to wake me up more. Honestly, after that dream, I didn’t expect to get anymore sleep for the duration of the night. I was going to sit in my room and read, or watch a movie—anything but sleep. I didn’t want to bother my mom anymore than I already had so I decided to stay out of her room for the night to let her get some more sleep before she had to go to work.
A glance at my bathroom clock told me that it was a little past three in the morning. I only had three and a half hours left before I needed to get ready for school anyway. I splashed my face one more time before turning the water off. Then I stood over the sink, letting the water droplets drip from my face, down my neck and onto my pajama shirt as I stared at my reflection. There were small, dark circles beneath my eyes from my lack of sleep. My eyebrows were unruly from the water, and my wild curls were pulled back into a messy bun. Normally I thought I was pretty. Nothing over the
The other girls joined in, twisting their faces in pain as they dug their fingers into their numbers, tracing them slowly.
I screamed as the pain in my forehead grew more intense, like someone was cutting into my flesh. I raised my hand, touching my forehead and pulling it away to see crimson blood smeared across the tips of my fingers. I spun around quickly, my eyes wide as I looked at my mom and David.
“It looks good on you, Claire. You look...complete,” David said with a grin on his face. His dark eyes bore into me, his expression filled with lust.
I have to get out of here , I thought, turning quickly and running down the aisle. I slammed into the double doors at the back of the church, stumbling into the hallway as I clutched my forehead with one hand. The pain was so intense that I couldn’t think straight anymore.
I ran as fast as I could, finding a bathroom and hurrying inside. When I finally came to a stop in front of a mirror, holding myself up by the sink, a scream tore from my throat at the sight.
Carved deep into the flesh on my forehead was a crooked number seven.
I woke up screaming. Screaming so loud that I scared myself. My mom was up in a split second, grabbing my shoulders and staring into my eyes.
“Claire, baby, it’s all right. I’m here. You’re safe,” she spoke, pulling me to her chest and smoothing my hair down. I had been sleeping in her room with her for the past few nights, afraid of being alone in mine, and also afraid of being so close to David’s house. The thought of only a wall separating me from his house was almost enough to make me tremble in fear.
Mom held me close to her, rubbing my arm and kissing the top of my head. I felt so bad for waking her up, but she didn’t seem to mind at all. She just let me cry while she did her best to console me.
“Do you want to tell me what your dream was about?” she asked softly.
I shook my head no, snuggling deeper into her embrace.
Mom sighed, but didn’t push me for an answer. When it finally hit me that my dream was just dream, I pulled away from Mom and excused myself to the bathroom. The hardwood floors in the hallway were cold against my bare feet, and I welcomed the warmth from my plush, bathroom rug when I entered. I flipped the light on, breathing a sigh of relief when I looked at my reflection in the mirror and saw that my forehead was still the same; tan, and a little pimply, but free of any gruesome numbers. It was irrational of me to think there would be something there, but the dream had felt so real. I could still feel the pain searing my skull as if someone had actually taken a knife to my head.
Filling my lungs with a deep breath of air, I let it out slowly, trying to collect myself. It was just a dream , I found myself repeating in my mind. I needed to remind myself that to keep from getting too worked up. Turning the cold water on, I cupped my hands under the faucet, splashing the water on my face. The cold only served to wake me up more. Honestly, after that dream, I didn’t expect to get anymore sleep for the duration of the night. I was going to sit in my room and read, or watch a movie—anything but sleep. I didn’t want to bother my mom anymore than I already had so I decided to stay out of her room for the night to let her get some more sleep before she had to go to work.
A glance at my bathroom clock told me that it was a little past three in the morning. I only had three and a half hours left before I needed to get ready for school anyway. I splashed my face one more time before turning the water off. Then I stood over the sink, letting the water droplets drip from my face, down my neck and onto my pajama shirt as I stared at my reflection. There were small, dark circles beneath my eyes from my lack of sleep. My eyebrows were unruly from the water, and my wild curls were pulled back into a messy bun. Normally I thought I was pretty. Nothing over the
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