I felt light-headed. Where was I again? I saw my mom's beautiful face, then my dad's, my beautiful baby brother's, and my older sister's, with the scar above her eye from the bottle incident. What was happening? I look around to see myself surrounded by a heavy, gray fog. I feel something clinging to my skin, looking down to see a long, flowing white dress feeling like silk. Some hay bales were splattered here and there across the vast, open field.           I see a black figure crumpled on the field. I tiptoe to look at it. It stands up, and reveals itself as a horse. Black, tall, very intimidating. He turned to look at me. Seeing my reflection in his eyes, I gasp. I'm taken aback by how ghostly I look; almost translucent. He nickered at me and walked around the back of me. He nudged at the small of my back. Pushing me forward, he starts moving faster. He appears by my side and scoops me up onto his back. I don't know what he's doing, but I'm getting frustrated. "Where are you taking me?" I demand, knowing he can't answer. I see where he's taking me, the scene of a murder. I squeal and the horse starts slowing down.

     Turning to his side, he slides me off his back. Inching towards the body sprawled on the bed with blood-soaked sheets, I get nervous. What if the cops think I killed the person? Then I step closer, suddenly very confused. I see a bracelet hanging off of the girl's arm. A bracelet just like my dead grandma gave me when I was seven, 2 years before she passed away. Then I was stuck with my abusive parents. I realize then by her long, stick-straight brown hair, that the girl is me.

     My legs feel like rubber and my eyes sting. I fall down and crawl towards the body. It is me. I'm dead. Reality hits me like a ton of bricks. I had so many things I wanted to do. I was an aspiring artist. I had so many friends, and an amazing boyfriend. My only sweet escapes from my house, where there was scars and smoking and drinking. I look around the room and see all the pictures of me and my friends tagged onto my cork board, the only things in the room that were truly mine. Pictures of us at the park. One of Erin Parker, my boyfriend, kissing me, Ariana Disfidare. I miss him.

     I hear footsteps on the stairs, so many. Suddenly the door is swung open, police officers rushing around my body. Paramedics demanding people to make room to check my pulse. No use. I sit in the corner of my room for hours. I don't know what else to do. I want to know what happened. The detectives come in. The paramedics didn't move my body. The phrases "domestic violence" and "abusive parents" flutter around the room, whispered as if they don't want to wake me up. Don't need to worry about that. I can't believe my parents did this. I know exactly why though.