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Suddenly I fling myself out of bed. It was only a dream. But it seemed so real! The voice was so familiar that it sent shivers down my spine. All I could remember was running. My legs are still soar. I was running in horror. Away from the blackness; but I couldn't run fast enough. The blackness had overcome me, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. All I could see of the hooded creature was its knobby, rotten hands. They were the hands of pure evil. I couldn't see the face, it was hidden in the folds of its hood, but I didn't have to see the face to know who it was.

You know what you have done, and you must pay," said a voice. It seemed to come from every direction, covering me, no… smothering me with its hatred. I couldn't bear to look, as the withered hands reached up to the hood of its sinuous robes, but something inside forced me to pull my hand away from my face, and stare at the seemingly empty hole where a face should be.

Slowly, the creature slowly began pulling it back, and I found myself screaming at the very thought of what I would soon see. The rotted hands fell away, and instead of the face I had pictured in my mind, a face of death and pain, I saw a reflection of myself. The very person who hated me most, the person who caused me the most angst, the most pain, was myself. I had done this to myself.

Sitting quietly on my bed, I begin to cry. The realization that this dream had brought on was more than I could handle. I begin to swear to myself that I will stop this. Swearing that I will change. I owe myself that much.

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