Morning comes, but I am still tired after a restless night's sleep. My nightmares are getting worse. I can't remember them well when I wake up, though I can recall a man's face twisted in horror and agony. I also retain the feeling of fear and desperation that comes from my dreams.
I climb down the ladder attached to my bunk bed. Saturday is usually a good day, I hope that it is today. My breakfast consists of assorted dairy products and plain toast.
Lizzie, my dog, stays by my side all morning, her black and brown fur raised at the hackles to ward off the other dogs in our house that are just waking up. She is very protective of me. I am very glad that she doesn't know what I go through every night. I finish eating and walk barefoot across the cool white tile.
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