She sat on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands. This was the fourth night in a row and her head was pounding. The nightmares were getting worse.
Like her own brand of horror film they seemed to consist of everything she was afraid of; in never-ending sequels that deserved Oscars for their imaginative content. Flashbacks mingled with new scenarios; all playing on her biggest fears. They made the woman who everyone thought was so strong, so unafraid of everything, feel like a scared, little child.
She sneered at their stupidity. No one really knew her properly. Only one person on this earth saw past the 'ice-queen' to her insecurities. The rest were in the dark, and there they would remain.
She thought of Charlie; he'd make these nightmares go away. But she wouldn't go back to him, even though he'd pined for her for years. Poor Charlie. She didn't love him anymore. He'd been chased away by the boy who could make swans out of paper.
Instead,
she reached into her make-up bag for his sensible older brother.
Popping a paracetamol into her mouth she lay back on the bed, praying
for a peaceful sleep.
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