A dark shadow leans over her menacingly. Nothing was there, but an outline of something long and deadly. She began to run, the chilled air brushing past her skin in a hard measure. The beating of her heart is like drums as the figure watches after her while a white toothed smile pulls across its face.

Alex flinches up in the darkness with a bright orange tabby cat cuddled next to her. She jets up under the covers, upright. Sweat covers her face like unwelcome ornaments. Breath, shallow, she staggers to the bathroom hovering over the bowled sink, washing her face. She embraces the coolness of the water as it swallows her, away from her sleep. In the next hours, Alex stomach turns up into the toilet, her eyes bloodshot and her skin blotchy.

Alex isn’t crazy. She’s just a bit unwell. She was nervous by day, afraid, of the same nightmare that comes every night.

As 2:00 a.m. nears, she climbs back into bed, fearing what might come between now and 8:00.