Chapter 2_My nightmare

Help me mama!

Help m.....

The water was rough and unsettled dragging me down with force. I tried to resist flailing my arms and kicking my legs but i couldn't fight it. Fear gripped me as i struggled for air but all i could inhale was water. I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper, the frigid water enveloping me.

I woke with a jolt, gasping for air as the remnants of the nightmare clung to my consciousness. The sensation of drowning at five years old echoed in my mind, the cold grip of water refusing to release its hold. My heart pounded against my chest, each beat a desperate plea for escape from the depths of the dream.

The room felt oppressive, the walls closing in like the suffocating embrace of the water that had threatened to swallow me whole. Cold sweat coated my skin as I reached for the bedside lamp, its feeble light dispelling the shadows but failing to banish the lingering taste of salt on my lips.

I traced the outline of my own face, grounding myself in the tangible reality that surrounded me. The sheets clung to me like seaweed, and I shivered as if still immersed in the chilling depths of the nightmare. The clock's red digits cut through the darkness, a reminder that I had surfaced from the drowning silence of the dream.

Untangling myself from the sheets, I forced my trembling legs to carry me to the edge of the bed. The floor beneath my feet offered stability, a stark contrast to the treacherous currents that had threatened to pull me under. As I sat in the dim light, the nightmare's grip began to loosen, but the memory of drowning lingered—a haunting specter in the waking hours.

The remnants of the drowning nightmare still clung to me like a haunting shadow, leaving me reluctant to succumb to the darkness once again. Fear lingered in the corners of my room, and the comforting glow of the bedside lamp became my anchor against the abyss of sleep.

I stayed awake, the passing hours marked by the soft tick-tock of the clock. The night seemed interminable, each creak of the house echoing the distant murmurs of the dream. As the first hints of dawn painted the sky, a tentative sense of relief washed over me. The nightmares were reluctant to persist in the light of day.

By the time the sun bathed my room in its gentle warmth, I felt a cautious reassurance. I rose from the bed, the weariness of the sleepless night clinging to my movements. The routine of preparing for school became a deliberate distraction, a way to shake off the lingering tendrils of the nightmare.

I heard the familiar sound of my mother's voice calling me downstairs. The anxiety that had gripped me throughout the night loosened its hold, replaced by the comfort of familiar routines. I descended the stairs, finding my mother dressed for work, a briefcase in hand.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she greeted me with a warm smile, her eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and maternal affection. "Breakfast is on the table. I've got to head to work, but I'll see you later. Take care, okay?"

I nodded, grateful for the normalcy of her presence. The aroma of breakfast greeted me in the kitchen, a comforting contrast to the unsettling dreams. As my mother left, I finished my meal, and then a renewed sense of purpose guided me back to my room. The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow that dispelled the lingering shadows of the night. Determined to leave the haunting dream behind, I embarked on the familiar rituals of preparing for school.

I turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until it felt just right. Stepping into the shower, the soothing cascade of water served as a cleansing ritual, washing away both the physical and emotional residue of the sleepless night. As I emerged, a sense of renewal accompanied the droplets that clung to my skin.

With my hair still damp, I stood before the mirror, the brush in my hand gliding through the strands with practiced ease. I decided to style it in loose waves, a carefree yet intentional look that mirrored my determination to face the day. My necklace, a delicate silver chain with a small pendant, found its place around my neck, a reassuring weight against my collarbone.

I chose a short skirt that swayed with each step, a playful contrast to the oversized black sweatshirt that enveloped me like a protective shield. The sweatshirt bore a subtle emblem, a nod to casual comfort with an edge of personal style. Black sneakers completed the ensemble, practical yet fashionable, as I anticipated a day of navigating the halls of school.

Before leaving, I secured my essentials in a crossbody bag—a compact yet stylish companion for the day's adventures. My bracelet, a simple band with a small charm, adorned my wrist, a subtle reminder of grounding amidst the uncertainties. As I glanced at the mirror one final time, the reflection staring back at me exuded a quiet strength, ready to face the world beyond the boundaries of dreams.

The morning sun cast a warm glow as I walked towards school, the streets gradually filling with the buzz of students. The familiar sound of the bell marked the beginning of the day, and I joined the stream of classmates heading to the English classroom.

I took a sit towards the edge of the class, close to the wall, because well i like my space. Observing the room filling up with a mix of excitement and indifference, Mrs. Alexandria, our English teacher walks into the classroom. she gets into classic literature, talking about characters facing tough stuff. We're talking about those timeless stories that have been around for ages – the kind of stuff that makes you think and feel. The theme of the day was resilience, like how characters in these old tales face tough situations and come out stronger. Imagine characters like Frodo from "The Lord of the Rings" dealing with the weight of the world or Katniss from "The Hunger Games" fighting against the odds. Mrs. Alexandria was connecting these characters' struggles to real-life challenges, making us see that literature isn't just about old books; it's about understanding ourselves and others. It's interesting, kind of like dealing with your own challenges. Then the bell rings again, and we all shuffle to the next class. Before leaving she paired us into twos, giving us each an assignment to do and guess who i got paired with? Jeffrey. Yeah, the guy who's popular but can be a pain. Working with him? Not exactly my idea of a good time. As I looked over to where he was sitting, I can already feel the clash of personalities, setting the stage for a day that's turning out way more complicated than I expected. The paired assignment turned out to be a creative exploration of the resilience theme discussed in the English class earlier. The teacher tasked each pair with crafting a short story or narrative that showcased a character facing adversity and overcoming it with strength and determination.

In the new class, I pick my usual spot, trying to blend in with the crowd. The teacher starts the lesson, and I get into the zone of learning, you know, that feeling when you're just focused on what's in front of you. The teacher launched into a lesson on science, and for a moment, the complexities of the outside world faded away. I focused on the intricate dance of atoms and the mysteries of the universe, finding a temporary escape in the wonders of physics.

However, the approaching group assignment lingered in the back of my mind, like a storm gathering on the horizon. When the bell finally rang, I gathered my belongings, ready to face the challenge of collaborating with someone I had never quite seen eye to eye with.