The long, monotonous shrieking pierced my ear drums. I knew that sound. I knew what that meant. I clasped my hands over my ears, making a barrier against the screaming. But it penetrated my barrier as if it hadn't been any thicker than paper. Please, I pleaded to God, make it stop. If it stops it will be ok.
Then, this doctor was standing in front of me suddenly. Despair filled my body. I knew what had happened, the doctor didn't have to say a word. My own screaming then mixed with the steady, piercing noise.
“Daddy! Daddy!” My lungs pushed the words out with all their might, “No! I need…Daddy!” I got up and ran to him. I ran and ran, but he was already gone.
The screaming subsided and everything went silent.
“Tory! Tory, it’s ok wake up,” A soothing, calm voice disrupted my sleep and brought me back to consciousness. I was sweating and panting like I’d just sprinted a mile. My brother, Jessie, was holding me tight. His eyes were as round as dinner plates and looked so scared and worried that they brought the realization to me.
A dream, a nightmare; the one I have most frequently now had haunted me again tonight. I started to calm down. My heart fell back into its regular rhythm and my breathing went back to normal. Jessie was still holding me like a newborn baby.
“Jess, it’s ok. I’m fine now,” I said and I pushed him away.
“You sure? I could stay with you till you fall back asleep if you wanted.” His features were so full of concern for me. He made me feel so guilty for making him hurt and making him worry.
“I’m not a baby. I had to grow up. I don’t need you or mom even to make me feel strong. I am strong.” As I said this I couldn’t help but think of the time when I had felt the exact opposite of strong. The time when I felt so alone, so weak, that I could barely wake up in the morning and take care of my brothers. The time in the aftermath of my dad’s death.
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