My Dear Nightmare

Prologue

"I'm going to bed ma", I announced and got up from my seat at the dining table. It was yet another family dinner where I'd just be reminded of how much of a nuisance I was, precisely to my dad. I usually only had dinner with my mom, but Today was one of the days she tried to speak sense into my dad. Obviously, it wasn't working since he kept his eyes on his plate the whole time with a permanent scowl on his face. That was how much I irritated him.

I wouldn't lie that it didn't hurt. It did. A lot. And it had affected my life in more ways than I could explain. He had made me feel very insecure and had become very introverted. I had no actual friends except for my mom, but I made sure it didn't get to the point where I felt I was unworthy of being happy in life.

After all, it wasn't my fault I was born a girl, and it wasn't my fault either that because of my gender, I couldn't efficiently help him in the mafia, so he could get a decent position. His words, not mine.

"Goodnight my love, sleep tight", mom answered giving me a small smile. She still had her Mexican accent even though she hadn't been living there for about twelve years now.

"Goodnight dad", I muttered, hoping he wouldn't yell at me.

Well at least he didn't yell at me, but he just ignored me, stuffing more spaghetti onto his mouth.

"Gabriel, Daniela is talking to you", mom tried getting his attention.

Hopeless.

"Ela, your dad loves you, you know that right?" she continued, turning to me.

I just shook my head and moved away from the table, heading upstairs. I wasn't going to cry. Of course not! I already knew he was going to ignore me like he always did, but I never stopped saying a few words to him like 'good morning' or 'bye' since it made me kinda hide the hatred I had for him. Too much of hate was going to do me no good.

Mom knew why he always tried to avoid me, but her love had blinded her too much for her to hate him. So she supported him in everything he did, whether right or wrong, as long as it didn't negatively affect me. Pathetic right?

But I loved my mother and she loves me too and I was satisfied because I knew there was one person who genuinely loved me.

When I was prepared for bed, I walked to wards the window to draw the curtains. Then I decided against it. Maybe watching the stars from my bed could help me go to sleep.

As I got into bed and stated at the tiny white lights in the dark sky, I remembered when I was four, my mom would come to my room almost every night. Then we would climb out of my window, sit on the roof and watch the stars.

One time when we were out on the roof, she thought me how to recite Psalm 23. That night she was sad because my dad hadn't come home. She told me to say that long verse whenever I was sad.

I've always wished my mom had a different husband, but she's happy with my dad and I, so I had to accept it.

And I also wish I knew I could sleep better without the stars.

Before I could close my eyes, I saw a figure move behind my window. I quickly sat up and looked harder to find out what it was.

It wasn't an it.

A talk dark haired boy, probably in his mid-teens, climbed into my room, his eyes roaming around until they landed on me. Anger radiates from those dark eyes of his and I shivered.

He looked torn and sad, but anger was the main emotion on his face.

"W-who are you a-and what do you w-want?" I stammered.