Sleepkill

The razor's jagged edge is the only thing that can tame these evil thoughts. The thoughts that dwell's and simmers inside of me. I tried to warn my mother that I started sleep walking again, and that she should take Dylan and leave but she didn't listen she never does. So here I am now, fully conscience but unaware of the movement and intent of my body. I'm standing over Dylan's crib watching him sleep, watching him innoccently suck on his thumb. I grab a pillow and lightly smoother him, I touch his warm cheek with my ice cold finger tips. I scream at myself to stop, but my brain is dead the killer is in control at night. My body and impulses are taking over. I go to the kitchen and grab my dad's wooden stake knife, Thank god he's not here. A tear crawls out of my unopen eyelids as I head to my mother's room.