Her Scary Tales

My Worst Nightmare.

I wrote this in 2021 for the #nestawritingcompetition on Facebook.
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WARNING!
This is purely paranormal.
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I woke up trembling, not from the cold, but from fear. Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead, mixing with my tears. I trudged to the bathroom and splashed water on my face several times, but that didn't stop my heart from pounding.

"Mia!" Mom called from downstairs.

"I'll be right there," I replied.

I quickly dried my face with a towel, checked my reflection in the mirror, and adjusted my hair so she wouldn't notice anything, then I went downstairs.

"Hurry up, hun! It's almost 5:30 pm."

"Oh!" I smiled, relieved that she didn't notice my bloodshot eyes.

"I'll get changed then," I said before scurrying back upstairs.

I wanted to tell her about my dream, but I didn't want to ruin the moment. Mom hadn't made time for me since Dad passed away. I barely saw her too. She was always out before I woke up and back when I was asleep. Most times it was just me and my nanny, Mayla. After three years and me yelling out my thoughts like Emma said I should, she said we could spend the evening together.

I quickly changed into the knitted sweater she gave me on my last birthday. I wore my stone-washed jeans and black boots. I went downstairs to behold the prettiest woman I knew, with gleaming green eyes and straight ombre blond hair. She was so pretty I wished I looked more like her than I looked like Dad. Most times I reminded her about Dad, the similarities were too much, and it hurt me every day.

"You okay, hun?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah," I chuckled. "Never been better." We decided to go to the movies and a few of my favorite places. I fumbled with the hem of my sweater, causing it to twiddle.

I was nervous, scared, and I couldn't help but fret and feel claustrophobic. I clasped the hand of my mom that wasn't working on the steering wheel in mine to feel secure. We both flashed each other wistful smiles. She missed Dad and thought I was thinking about him at the moment. Well, I was, but that wasn't it. Our looks lingered on each other for a while before Mom could focus on the road again.

A moving truck hit our car, making it blare as we somersaulted, landing somewhere else. Mom's head hit the wheel, and she became unconscious. I tried to squirm her awake. Shards of broken glass pierced her skin and creased mine. I screamed, but my voice hitched as smoke from the engines throttled me.

Mom muttered my name. I looked at her, her smile became a scowl. There was blood oozing from her forehead. Before I could blink, the car engines began to heat up, making the heat unbearable.

"Mia, get out," Mom's voice was stifled. But I couldn't leave her. If I had told her about my premonitions and dreams, this wouldn't have happened. I watched the fire slowly graze Mom and me. The atmosphere was eerie, reeking of burnt rotten meat. I tried to get out, but I couldn't. They pulled me out, and I saw the car finally explode. My mom was in that car. I didn't want to be saved.

"Leave me!" I wailed with the last bit of strength that I had as they placed me on the gurney. "My mom is in that car," I cried bitterly. "My mom."

I should have told her about my dream before it became reality, before it became my worst nightmare.

A/N
Damn, momma.