Most nights I sleep soundly. I don't dream, ever. The closest thing to a dream I have had are nightmares of my past. The swarm my head and try to drown me with my own memories. Most of the time they succeed, because when I wake up I'm gasping for breath as tears run down my face. Sometimes I even wake up screaming. Last night's was the worst.

The shed I was in stank of mold, sweat, and a hint of alcohol. I had just woken up and was looking around. Was I alone? No, there he is, passed out on the floor. Maybe, just maybe I could escape.

I looked around in haste, trying to find some clothes, but mine were nowhere in sight. I grabbed his shirt, threw it on, and ran out the door.
The sun was blinding, and it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust. I began to stumble around, not sure where to go. Being five, I got too interested in my surroundings and was completely oblivious to the steady breathing behind me. I turned to go and find a place to hide and shrieked. His cold, ice blue eyes were less than a foot away, and they were furious.

Not caring where I was going, I ran. I had to escape! The alcohol slowed him down some, but not enough. We were in a cornfield now. My feet were bleeding horribly because I was barefoot. I looked back to see I was actually getting away. I smiled somewhat and kept going.
The moment I stepped on that rusty nail was the moment I knew I was better off dead. I prayed he would kill me then and there, but of course, he didn't.

He was dragging me back to that shed of a prison. Not there, anywhere but there. I kicked, screamed, lashed out, did everything I could to break free but it was useless. He threw me in the corner and silenced my cries. He began to hit me more and more, yelling that if I ever tried again he would kill me. Then he whispered that I had been a bad girl, and all bad girls needed to punished. He grabbed his carving knife and walked towards me.

I woke up sweating, scared for my life. I had to double check my room to make sure he wasn't there. When I was sure I was safe, I went and cried myself back to sleep.

This is how most of my nights are. They leave me filled with terror, scared for my life, a rage so deep I'm about to explode, but most of all, I feel guilt.