I don't really remember what happened on that fateful day, riddled with blood I was found.
The doctors told me that I was so traumatized that my brain decided to forget my experiences in order to preserve my sanity.
It's been twenty long years since then, and for each 24th night that passes before Christmas.
I get this feeling of dread, of hate.
So afraid I am that I feel like death was lurking just around the corner.
My doctors told me that it was just my imaginations.
A sort of side effect and perhaps a dread of what happened that day.
They prescribed some meds for me to take on such nights, so far it's helped me cope.
But this year I can't help but feel that something is coming and it's coming for me.
