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TOSSING AND TURNING IN BED, she felt torn between getting up and warming a glass of milk, or being swollen whole by her mattress, restrained to her bed by recurring nightmares. The only clarity in the room being sustained by the full moon, whose light was seeking shelter within the boundaries of her bedroom. Elizabeth wasn't immune to waking up throughout the night, in fact, in the last week, her mind was becoming restless as she suffered through a case of waking up drenched in sweat, heart thrusting against her breast bone, and adrenaline pumping through her veins forcing her fight or flight response to kick in.
Her eyes narrowed sleepily, scanning the room for any possible intruders as she grasped onto her sheets, bringing the comforter up to her chin lazily. It was routine by now, and though she never saw anything to make her fear for her life, this time she caught sight of a dark silhouette within the corner of her bedroom. Her slim hand quickly reached outward, turning on her bedside lamp only to find her coat rack staring back at her. How pathetic. She was twenty-three, she couldn't possibly still be fearful of the bogeyman.
With a deeply frustrated sigh, she swung her legs out of bed, reaching for the white robe that lay upon her favorite reading chair and aiming out her bedroom towards her dainty kitchen. The wooden floors creaking beneath her feet only added to the eerie feeling within her stomach that somebody was watching her. How self-absorbed might she be that she'd fear having a stalker? What would a stalker be interested in her for? Maybe she had seen one too many horror films because truly, the urge to sneak around her own home was irrational, but she couldn't help tiptoeing and sliding across the floors surreptitiously. If anything, doing so, she hoped it would keep her demons at bay, allowing them to remain asleep in the vain hope that they would let her rest peacefully once it was her turn to lay in bed. Truth be told, in her point of view, there were undeniably terrific and yet again absolutely terrible attributes that came with living without roommates, and additionally, far far away from home.
The first, the independence. She could come and go as she pleased, and do as she fancied without offending anybody. Whether that meant eating ice cream in her underwear in the living room or singing as loudly as her lungs would allow in the shower, voice cracks and all, without another person's judgement. The con? Having to approach the house after a long day on campus. The light-post a few houses down flickering, her house entirely consumed by darkness, and the echoing of the crickets in the yard taunting her, as if they were yelling out that somebody was inside her house ready to murder her in their own little insect language.
