Tequila Shots

Chapter 9

"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do."
—Eleanor Roosevelt

Samantha's POV

Sweat. A lot of it. I could feel it coursing down my face and cleavage. I felt like I was suspended in the space between reality and illusion. I could feel myself immersed in the character I was playing. She had my face, my hair. She had my eyes that were currently wide with fear. She was running without direction. It seemed like she was running from something but I just couldn't seem to pinpoint what it was she was so afraid of. I tried to remove myself from the situation but I just couldn't. It felt like my soul had left my body and I was watching my life from a third person point of view. I was trapped. I just didn't know how to get out from it. She stopped to catch her breath and leaned over, her hands resting on her knee. I saw something creep up behind her and tried to warn her but I couldn't talk. I couldn't scream. I couldn't move. I just couldn't do anything. I felt hopeless. Helpless. And it caught her. Cut her. The creature turned and I saw his face under the moonlight. It had red bloodshot eyes that looked even more pigmented in contrast to the silver glow of the moon. His face looked familiar. Where had I seen that face? Where did I... It was him... My father...

I woke and sat up immediately, panting for air. What was it that I just witnessed?

I got up and got ready for the day trying to put what had happened behind me but I just couldn't. I kept on reminding myself that it was a dream but it didn't seem like it. It felt more real by the second but it clearly wasn't since I woke up in my bedroom, in my house and still clothed in the pajamas I had gone to bed with the previous night. In addition to that, he had cut her but there was no single scratch or scar on my body. It unsettled and disconcerted me that I didn't understand what it was I was experiencing. I got dressed in a white washed ripped jeans and a fuchsia pink T- shirt. Comfortability over fashionability. I went down into the kitchen to find my mom. She was humming a tune as she turned the content of the pan at the cooker.

"Morning," I greeted.

"Morning, baby. Have a seat. I'm frying the eggs," she looked over her shoulder with a smile.

I walked over to the dining table and the smell hit me like a wave. There was blueberry pancakes, sausages and two steaming cups of coffee sat on saucers.

"Did you make all these?" I asked as I sat at the table.

"I wish I did," she laughed, placing a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me.

"Thank you. Where did all these come from though?"

"Pops sent someone over. I sent out his flowers early this morning and he sent the boy back with food. That man," she chuckled.

"This is a lot of food though," I eyed the well rounded sausages.

"Well, we can't send it back now, can we?"

"Nah. We'll just have to eat what we can. I'll try my best to eat as much as my stomach can take," I rubbed my hands together in preparation to devour the food in front of me.

"How is the coffee?" she asked.

She had put in milk and sugar and it was just in the right amount. Nothing was too much or too little.

"Perfect," I smiled.

"That reminds me, Mum. I had a dream."

"Hmm... it's been a while since you've said that. what was it about?"