The sound of shattering glass made me sit up. I struggled in my covers, knowing and feeling that I was dreaming, but I couldn’t wake myself up. Knowing I was in a dream was what made them that much scarier, because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t change anything.
I wasn’t in my room at Masen. I was in my bedroom back in Boston. The moonlight beamed in through my window, causing the simplest things like furniture and a laundry basket to cast strange and eerie shadows across the floor. Staying perfectly still, I listened to the house. The sound of the ticking clock on my wall, the sound of a car’s radio driving by outside, and finally…the creak of the sixth step coming up from the living room.
Tears filled my eyes because I knew what was next. I’d wait, I’d run across the hallway to my parents’ room, and I’d relive it all over again. Unable to stop, I watched my own feet slip down to the floor and cross my room as my hand reached for the doorknob.
Darting across the hallway, I shoved open my parents’ bedroom door. I froze when two figures yanked my father from his bed.
“Bella, run! Scream!” Dad yelled, but his voice was stopped short when the blade sliced across his throat.