Love Ain't Nothing But Sex Misspelled.
The nightmares paid me a visit one night. I couldn't tell you the last time I had these dreams. No, not dreams. Memories. Memories I buried so deep, I forgot that they were even there but the mind has a funny way of playing tricks on it's host. It'll convince you to forget what you experienced, it make you get comfortable in thinking that it's locked away so far from the front of your mind before springing it on you at random times. In a sense, it was cruel.
I felt my body tossed and turned. I felt the feverish warmth spread amongst my body making it feel sticky and clumpy. I felt all of this while still in a deep sleep, how? I don't know.
I was falling, it seemed endless and lead to nowhere but darkness. I couldn't scream out or hold on to anything, all I can feel is the overwhelming sense of fear as I continued to go deeper and deeper into the dark, losing sight of even myself.
The scene suddenly changed to where I was standing in the middle of fire. The hot, blazing color of red, orange and yellow mold into each other, coming from nowhere and leading into nowhere.
I felt my heart quicken, knowing what's going to happen next.
"Serena." called the soft voice of my mother. The fire around me extracted itself and rush passed me, I turned around and looked up to my mother who was tied to a pole, dirtied with the fire dancing around her. The fire traveled up her body slowly while she gazed longing at me. She was just as beautiful as I remember. Eyes as amber as the fire, even when messy you could still see the silky wave of her black hair, body as lean and curvy as I remembered.
"Serena.." This time she said with a sadden smile. "Don't fight it, don't fight them." It was the same warning in every dream. After centuries of having the dream on and off, I figured what she may mean by that simple warning but was still in disbelief.
What I am is what killed her. It's what got her tied up and burnt alive with me hiding in the basement behind a painting. When my house got burnt down shortly after, I managed to crawl out and into the woods. From there I watched as my mom silently laid against the pole and let the fire consume her as everyone chanted and cursed her.
"Demon!"
"Witch!"
"I hope you rot in hell!" The chants were getting aggressive and violent as ever, it was so much that my eight year old eyes can witness.
But even with death quietly approaching her, she stayed silent as she got burnt alive, she died silently. It hurt me so much. Even for my age, I knew I'd be an idiot if I tried running back towards the village. They'd kill me along with her.
At that age, I still never understood why she was killed in such a perturbing way and I honestly think I never will.
It was when I was twenty, while attending a festival with a few friends did I bump into the wrong crowd of people. In that group was a man named Tariq. I remembered him being a relative to a friend of my aunt's. I use to see him every now and then but never bothered to interact with him or any of my own "relatives."
We're all family, Serena. You mustn't forget that. Is what my aunt use to say. But if everyone is family why is it now, after the death of my mother and possibly my father, did I meet everyone?
While leaving the park, I was ripped from my peers as I witnessed my friends get slaughtered in the parking lot and me kidnapped. I was terribly frightened. I didn't know what was going on.
