A Mother's Love : Rewritten

Making A Friend

  I was curled up in a hallowed out tree trying to quiet my heavy breathing as I peeked out of the hole. Loud footsteps sounded nearby and large shadows danced across the ground. I pressed my back against the back of my hiding spot and placed a hand over my mouth. The footsteps grew louder and the shadows grew closer.
 
“Come out, come out wherever you are.” A deep voice echoed in the sudden silence, causing me to shiver at the sound. The shadow paused right by my tree and I held my breath. Nothing moved and the silence was torturous as he stood there for what seemed like forever. Suddenly a dark chuckle sounded from the figure and the shadow shifted, then I was looking into sinister red eyes.
“There you are Poppet.” He reached his arm toward me and I closed my eyes tightly-

 

  I sat up in bed panting, I combed my sweaty hair from my face and glanced around my room mouthing the name of each thing I lay my eyes on. Bedside table. Digital alarm clock. Lamp. Desk.  With each new item I became more aware of my surroundings and the more my head cleared. Another nightmare. I cannot remember the last time I actually slept peacefully. A glance at the alarm clock that sat on my bedside table told me it was only nine thirty in the morning. With a heavy sigh, I threw my blankets off of me and slid out of bed. There was no point in trying to get anymore sleep, I never could sleep again after waking up from a nightmare.
  Walking over to my desk I pull out the top drawer, then begin removing my notebooks and other random items until I had cleared it out. Running a fingernail along the edge of the bottom until I felt it catch on a small pin, I press down on the pin and there was small clicking sound as the false bottom popped open revealing a space just large enough to hold my journal and several notebooks that held my notes on things Lisa had told me about the Gifted.

  I had seen this old desk sitting at the end of our neighbors driveway about three years ago. It had still been in good condition other than the white paint being faded and scratched up. After mentioning to my dad about how I would be able to do my homework much easier in my room if I had a desk, he had come dragging the desk inside and up to my room. It was probably one of the only things he had gone out of his way to get me and I think it was more because I would have even more reason to stay in my room and out of sight. No matter the reason I had cleaned it up and added a fresh coat of paint using some left over paint from when the porch had been painted.
As I was placing some extra notebooks and binders into the top drawer I bumped my cup of pens I had placed on top. The cup fell into the drawer and the pens and paperclips scattered across the bottom. I had picked up the pens and was working on picking up the paperclips when one stubborn paperclip caught on something on the seam at the bottom. I was wiggling it back and forth trying to get it loose when I heard a click and suddenly the entire wooden bottom popped up revealing an old dusty storage space about three inches deep. The false bottom had obviously not been used in awhile. After cleaning it out I began to use it to store my journal and other personal items I didn’t want Marie or my mom to find. They both had a habit of snooping through my things and then Mother would punish me for anything I had written.
I had taken to writing in code so I could express my thoughts and write down my nightmares without worrying about punishment. I would use Korean letters but with English wording so they would not be able to simply use Google to translate it. But now I wouldn’t have to worry about them ripping the papers out or writing in my pages with rude words like Marie tended to do.
Grabbing said journal, I began to write down what I could remember about my dream. Liza said that maybe by writing down my nightmares it could help me figure out just what had triggered it. Liza had been studying psychology before she had died and while she didn’t have much experience she hoped to help me with my continuous nightmares. So far it hadn’t stopped them but it did make me feel better to write them down, as if looking down at the written version took some of the fear away from them.