WriteFridays Challenge 1- Anxiety Dreams

I was challenged to complete a writing exercise by Infamous Scribbler

EXERCISE: Write a short scene in which we learn the flavor of your character’s anxiety dreams … and why he/she/it has been having them for a week straight.

So here we go, my first creative writing piece in at least 10 years:

The pictures were haunting her.  Family members were dead, a different one every day, murdered and bloody. The victims increased in age. Connor was first, he was only a baby, then the twins, Sharon and Sophie, barely more than 2, followed by their father and grandparents. She knew it was bad, but she could not stop thinking about those dreams.

One week had passed since that fateful day, since she was embarrassed beyond the point of forgiving. But nobody had asked her to forgive. All they had done was yell.

Flashback

She sat at the long dining room table, surrounded by the family. Nobody looked at her. Nobody helped.

The face of her boss was distortet into an ugly frown. She could not tell if it was her memory that made the face look like an ugly, scary mask or if that had been real.

She had forgotten the words that were said, but she still could hear the screeching yells, berating her, hurting her, embarrassing her. It was a small mistake, something she had not thought to be important. She was shocked when she found that the kids had been in danger. She had never intended for that to happen. In fact, she was so shocked that she could not move, could not form a coherent thought. She could not do anything; she had to endure the pain that was increasing with every word that came out of the grotesque grimace that was her boss’s face.

When her boss had finally let her go, she had felt ashamed and humiliated. Then the dreams started and with every dream, after every night, her humiliation turned into more anger. Yes, she had made a mistake, but nothing that had warranted the embarrassment she had to endure. With every restless night, her desire for revenge increased. Closing her eyes, she shook her head and tried to shake the feeling. But all she saw behind the closed eyelids was the blade turning in the little chest and the horror on the face of her boss. A sense of calm washed over her when her hand reached out towards the knife and she had made up her mind.

Slowly she got up and turned towards baby Connor’s room. She might only be the babysitter, but she could hurt them just as much as they had hurt her. She would come out on top.