Nightmares Are Not My Style

Shadow is trust into a dream she doesn't want.

I have to admit, I’m sort of girly- in a kick butt kind of way. Clothes, hair, cute guys, it’s just my thing. I’m the kind of person who goes and looks in a mirror when ever I pass one, to make sure everything is perfect and in place. I like to go to malls, even if it’s just to window shop, and I always try to do my hair just right. Even though I am girly, I’m not one to flaunt it. After all, they call me the Shadow for a reason- can anyone else see the irony in that? I’m always the one behind the stage, taking care of the star of the show, never on the stage singing- that is, if I could sing. I’m so used to not being seen, that my worst nightmare is to be seen. It's kind of pathetic right?

            I was on the stage, looking out at a sea of faces. Multi color lights turned my skin all sorts of iridescent colors. Even without a mirror, I knew what I looked like. My clothes seem like they came out of a fashion magazine, and my hair was done so that my black curls looked glossy and perfect. My eyelashes were long and full, making my emerald eyes stand out more than ever. I didn’t quite look like a model, but I was close to it. But even though wearing the latest clothes and looking like a super model was every girls- and my- biggest dream, I would’ve given everything just to be invisible.

            The crowd out in front of me was chanting my name, all the people yelling toward me at once. I couldn’t see any distinction in any of the faces in front of me. Each one blurred in with the next. Just seeing the sheer mass of people was making me break out in a cold sweat, which then ruined my make up,- where’s water proof mascara when you need it? I wanted to run off the stage, but my feet just wouldn’t budge.  

            Then, the worst thing possible happened, the crowd started to tell me to sing! When I was younger, I wouldn’t have minded singing. I used to have a beautiful voice- not that I’m full of my self or anything. But in the lab that I was born in- yes I was born in a lab, and I can write more about that later- the psycho scientists started to do surgeries with my brain, trying to up my IQ or something. They did it all wrong, and instead of upping my IQ, they disrupted the part of my brain that controls speech. I haven’t been able to utter a word, or sing, since then.

            All I could think was, I can’t sing. I can’t even freaking talk! But obviously I couldn’t tell them that, so I was stuck there, unable to move, unable to tell the crowd I couldn’t sing. It got worse when a microphone magically appeared in front of me. Who ever was controlling this shindig was really trying to get to me.

            One distinct voice yelled out “Come on! Sing already!”, and with that, everyone started to join in. Every person had a separate voice now, yelling out their own symphony of hateful words. They came pummeling at me all at once, each voice like a knife, cutting at me, and causing its own pain as it hit me with full force. All I could do was to think, I can’t sing. I can’t sing. I can’t sing!!! And as if the crowd could hear my thoughts, the pain suddenly increased, each knife cutting a deeper, more painful wound from the next.

            But I couldn’t sing!

            I couldn’t take it any more. I started to cry. Tears spilled down my cheeks, and each tear caused the pain to intensify, which caused more tears. I don’t know how, but I found my self on the floor of the stage, just laying there, covering my ears as if I could block out all the voices, and the pain would go away. But it didn’t. The voices found a way to get into my head, and chant in there, giving me a massive headache on top of the rest of the hurting.

            Someone started to call my name, Shadow, Shadow. It was far of, and just a whisper, but it made some of the pain go way, so I clung to it. Shadow. It slowly got louder, as I felt drawn to it. Shadow, it’s okay. I’m here now.

            And I woke up with a start in my brother’s arms, warm tears sliding down my face. I was drenched with sweat and my hair stuck to the back of my neck, my forehead, and my cheeks. Shade whispered soothing word in my ear, as he cradled me in his arms, and rocked me back and forth.

            Just like another person used to do, so many years before. But her arms were soft, and assuring. Shade’s arms were muscled, and strong. I definitely felt safer with Shade. Shade was always there, while she didn’t try to stick around. I just hoped Shade would stay with me.

            “I’ll always be here to protect you, Shadow. I won’t leave you like she left us. No matter what happens, I’ve got your back.” My brother answered my thoughts. He can read my mind, after all. And right now, I was kind of thankful for that.