Monsters of the Night

Packing the Spices

     I jolted awake from the same, repetitive nightmare. The unspeakable one. The one that haunts me each night. The one that leaves me anxious and terrified.

     My screaming hasn't woken my parents or my brother for weeks, and I think they're grateful for the extra sleep. You see, I've recently been put on heavy-sleeping pills that knock me out for 10 hours each night. Everyone but me is grateful; they all get more sleep, I get more nightmares. Well nightmare rather, it's only the same one over and over again.

     I rub my eyes and groggily walk downstairs. My parents greeted me once I finally arrived at the kitchen island.

     "Good morning, Sweetheart," my dad said.

     I smiled a bit and said softly, "Morning."

     My energetic, 14-year old (sorry, 14 and 3/4 year old) brother then decided to bound down the stairs. His sudden loudness made me flinch and hug the island.

    "Sorry, sis," Tate told me.

    "It's okay," I replied. Tate then proceeded to plop down in the seat next to me.

    "Okay, so we're having eggs and bacon this morning. That okay with you guys?" my mom asked us while she scrambled the eggs. Tate and I nodded in agreement.

     Mom then dumped some eggs and bacon onto each of our plates. Tate gobbled down his plate and held it up for seconds. My mom giggled and filled his plate. I soon finished off my eggs and rinsed my plate.

     "Before you leave for Marsha's, we need to talk, Teagan," dad said from behind the morning paper.

    "Okay."

     I jogged up the stairs to get ready. I pulled on some jeans, a striped T-shirt, and some combat boots. Staring into the mirror, I fixed my hair a bit, and rubbed the dark shadows under my eyes. Even though I get sleep now, my nightmares leave me restless and wishing for sleep without taking pills.

     "Teagan!"

     "I'm coming, dad," I said while grabbing my bag and heading out my bedroom door.

     When I entered the living room, my parents and Tate were there, sitting in the couch; Tate looking quite distressed.

     "You wanted to talk?" My family looked up at my question.

     "Yes, Sweetheart. Um, sit down," my dad said hesitantly. I sat on the chair that faced everyone else.

     "We're moving," my mom blurted out before my dad could awkwardly explain things to me.

     At first, I just sat there, mystified. Why would we be moving? Our life is perfect here. Then I realized we were moving because of me.  I was just too much to handle, they needed someone to help me.

     "It's because of me, right?" I questioned my family.

     "No, Sweetheart," my dad told me with apologetic eyes. He obviously didn't mean for my mom to blurt out the news.

     "Then why are we moving?" I was growing impatient now, I knew that they were just trying to think up an excuse because I knew that we were moving because of me.

     "Well I got a great job offer in Pennsylvania, and there's a really great therapist there too." Dad said while wringing his hands in his lap.

     "We're moving?" I doubtfully asked my parents.

     "Yes, Teagan," my dad told me.