Nightmare unfolded itself beneath a single pillow I took asleep with. The knives were stabbing—breaking through every chance it has given. Again, I crawled as silent as I could to the wardrobe, hiding under those mounted up anger. They won’t see my figure in there. Please, save me. And they were gone, “It will get better soon,” he said, with his palm caressing worries out of my head. I was crying until tomorrow approached us, then until noon, a long mourning whisper I have ever heard hovering above my presence, sleepless, had me awaken for continuous weeks. Barely I could breathe, it was almost like something wanted the air to despise me.