“Help, help, somebody!” I scream and pound on the unseen wall, as trick-or-treaters hustle through the street around me. "Please, somebody help me!" I slam myself against the wall, harder and harder, but no one seems to notice.
Kids are running from house to house in colorful costumes, gulping down their candy, parents in tow. Many were on the street, yet no one sees me, the lone girl, trapped by an invisible wall, begging and pleading for help as though my life depends on it. And it does.
I glance behind me, and he keeps getting closer, closer, racing towards me. I turn back around and resume my futile attempts of catching someone’s attention.
"Please, help me! He’ll kill me! Please, someone help!" Some parents start to glimpse around. I am about to scream again just as his rough hand seizes my face.
"Scream like that again, and you’ll be dead in two seconds,” he maliciously mutters. "Got it?" he questions while twirling the knife in front of my face. I nod my head in response, and he lets go of me.
"Why did you run from me? Why can’t you just do what you’re told for once?” His eyes bore into me as he speaks gruffly. "You should have listened. It would have been so much easier if you had kept your mouth shut."
I try to hold it in, but a shriek escapes my lips. He shoves me to the ground, and my head hits the concrete, hard. My vision starts blurring as he stands over me, holding the knife firmly in his hand.
“No, no, please. I’ll do anything. Please.” I’m just mumbling now, too scared to shout for help, as he raises the knife.
“No, no!” The desperation leaps into my voice as the knife descends. The tip of the blade hits my chest.
And my eyes spring open. Gasps of air flood my lungs as I sit up in bed. “Thank God, it was just a dream.” But then I look down, and the knife is buried to the handle in my chest. He speaks from the corner of the room; “You should have listened.”