Im running. Im scared, my heart is pounding. Im about to get away from whatevers chasing me when i bump into a tall dark figure. A knife glistens in the moonlight. I can hear what was chasing me catch up. It grabs me from behind and...... Screams escape my lips. I bolt upright in my bed. Just the dream again. I turn on my light to see if the marks are there. With the familiar scratches in sight i know its okay to sleep again. Hopefully. Sometimes after i have the dream and the marks arent there (and sometimes when they are) the nighmare continues all night. Footsteps walk across the hall to my room. "annalese? Did you have the bad dream again?" says the small, tired voice of my 5 year old little brother Jack. "Yeah, but dont worry i'll be okay" I say giving him a reassuring smile. "Is it okay if i sleep with you tonight? I dont want you to have the dream again" Before i could answer I felt him pull himself onto my bed and curl up beside me. I drift off to sleep hoping its the end for tonight.
I wake up dripping sweat and my heart pounding. What happened last night? Jack says i had the dream again. What dream is he talking about? Ive never had dreams. My arm stings. I look at where the source of the pain is. 7 long scratches run across my arm. he needs to stop sleeping with me. It only happens when hes with me. But wiat. Thats odd. How is there 7? Shouldnt there be 5 or 10? Maybe he grabbed my arm funny. After getting dressed i head down stairs for breakfast. Peter says good morning from the cupboards as he searches for food.
"Are there any coming today?" asks Sophie.
" Yeah. There are 3. I heard Barbra telling the school," relpied Peter.
Just great. There was barely enough room for us 4. How is Barbra going to take care of three more? I live in a foster home if you didnt already figure that out. Living with me are 3 others. Sophie, a quiet and shy 12 year old druggie. Her parents dumped her on the streets when she was 5 where she was found by a crazy homeless lady. She started doing coke when she was only 10. About 3 months ago a social worker found her and dropped her here. My best friend Peter has been since the beginging, sharing 16 long years here with me. WE both grew up in this house watching friends and enemies leave. Hes the type of guy that you know by just looking at him that he'll never leave your side. I dont mean clingy. I mena that you can tell he'll always be there for you. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, hes there, hes trustworthy, sweet, and very good-looking. He's my best friends, practically my brother. Jack is the most recent foster. Hes been here for about 3 weeks. The day he arrived he wouldn't stop crying... that is until i walked in. He latched on to me like he knew me his whole life. I felt a brother-sister connection too and i havent let the kid out of my site. Then theres me. Blonde, tall, and not very pretty. i was left on the doorsteps of Barbras (Barbs) door moments after i was born. Im an... make that THE, outcast at our small K-12 school. Even 5th graders think they can pick on me. I show them they were wrong to dare say anything though. Im not as helpless as everyone might think. Theres always been something inside of me. Something very strong. And sometimes, very dangerous.