The Killer from my Dream

As you check your email, you notice a letter that makes you stop in your tracks. In the subject line, you read “I killed you. You are dead”. You stop and start thinking what the hell? You get away from the computer and go to the mirror near you. Everything is fine, you see your reflection. Who is that, and what does he want? You go back to your computer to see who send you the message and when. 

Unknown  I Killed you. You are Dead.     ####                  

What? Unknown, and there is no time when the message was sent? You start to feel chills through your spine. A taste of metal starts to irritate the receptors of your tongue. You are getting dizzy and you feel a sickness in your stomach. No, this is just the prank; some kid from IT school is messing with me... But, as much as you want to believe your words, you don’t. A voice inside of you is telling you that, whatever is happening, is serious and if you don’t act fast that you will die, indeed die. 

You turn off the computer and head towards the kitchen. You think to yourself If I am dead, I won’t feel this. You grab the sharpest knife you have from the drawer of the kitchen cabinet and come close to your left hand. You stop. You close your eyes and prepare for the pain. Okay, you need to do this Sharon. If you don’t do it, something bad may happen. As the second you decided to finally do it a thought crosses your mind what if someone wants me to do this? What if someone is watching me? You began doubting. You don’t feel safe anymore. You leave the knife on the counter. You grab your bag and jacket and head out. You hang your small bag over your shoulder and your breasts. Okay Sharon, calm down. You are on the street in front of your apartment building in the downtown. You see a lot of people walking around. You go down the street as you constantly look back. You still don’t feel safe. You feel as if any moment someone can stab you in the back with the knife. Why would someone kill me? I did nothing wrong. I’ve never had any enemies. Maybe, you are dreaming, but you are not sure of it. A voice inside of you is not letting you think that this is a dream; HE is telling you that you are in the right place. What does that mean? What does it mean that I am in the right place? At that moment, you stop. You stop and look at the parking lot across the street - a murder happened. You see bloodstains all over the concrete; you see policemen around the crime scene; you wonder what in the hell happened? Something draws you to that place. That same voice again is telling you to come closer and from up close see the victim of an attack.

As much as you don’t feel like coming closer you feel like that that is the only option. You are crossing the street; you are closer every second; you feel sicker as you go further. The constant thought that is going through your mind is - Please, don’t let it be me... You stop; a policeman moves to the side, and the person you see in the pool of blood is... you. No, I am not dead. This is just a bad dream. You try to deny the image before your eyes, but as much as you try, you can’t. Tears begin filling your eyes. They begin pouring down your cheek leaving a trace of horrible pain. 

It hurts you, but still, you have that tiny bit of hope that everything is just a dream despite the voice inside of you. 

Oh my God, enough with that voice Sharon! Stop thinking about it! The voice that you keep hearing doesn’t exist! 

Even though you still refuse to believe that you are dead, you decide to follow the ambulance car to the hospital. But at that point, it comes to you wait a minute... You stand before the police officer and yell. But he doesn’t hear you, nor he sees you. That is it... I am going mad. 

You hear the voice of a police officer, that just came, asking one of his colleagues - What the hell happened here? 

You prick up your ears. Then you hear a response: 

- This woman was killed by an unknown man. He stabbed her in the back with a knife. The time of the murder is still unknown; we are waiting to find out. 

You decide to go home. You feel like there is no need for you to go to the hospital. This time, your gut, instead of the inner voice, tells you to come home. 

You feel a burning sensation while stepping on the stairs. You are getting closer to your apartment. Don’t come in - you hear, but refuse to do so. You place your hand over the handle. I have to come in. And... you open the door. As soon as you opened the door of your apartment you faced your death. There he is - your husband. You see him washing his hands, his bloody hands. You see the knife beside him, over the kitchen counter. You feel the rush of adrenaline. You want to escape, but it is not possible. The door is locked. You try to open them, but nothing helps. He turned around, you see him, with the evil look on his face. You want to move, to escape to your room but you can’t move. While hiding your gaze trying to escape, he comes closer and he stabs the bloody knife through your stomach. The only thing you hear is - I am sorry, but this was the only way. This is your fault Sharon. - But it wasn’t your fault. Suddenly, everything is pitch black. 

You are waking up. You think to yourself oh my God, what a crazy dream. You go over your emails while drinking a coffee your husband had made before he went out. Hmm... this coffee has a weird taste... You finish your coffee. You grab your jacket and a bag. You go to the market near your apartment. 

After you finish with the grocery shopping you begin heading towards the street over the parking. In the flash, you hear the screams and then nothing. In the split second, everything changed. A man, who you didn’t see, stabbed a knife in your back. Everything was so quick, so you didn’t feel anything. You fell. You died.