What if...?

A crash, like that of a window breaking, woke me with a start. I roll over in my bed and looked up at the dark ceiling above me. I stare and stare like it’s the most amazing thing in the world. Truthfully, I just don’t want to get up. I turn slowly and put my feet in my favorite slippers. I drape my comforter over my head and walk down the stairs. This is not something I would like to be doing at 2:46 in the morning but I keep stumbling down each step, strangling the railing for support so I don’t fall. I have to wake up in the morning for my class and if I don’t get at least 8 hours of sleep, I will fail out of college.

I round the bend of the hallway and peer into my kitchen. I’m not one of those girls who is scared or frightened about everything, so seeing a big gash in my window above the sink makes me upset but not even close to scared or frightened…just maybe annoyed. My window is right next to my door and since its early in the morning and I haven’t even gotten my full eyesight focused, I don’t notice that the lock on the door is not latched anymore. I move over by the side of the cupboards, careful not to step on any broken glass. A large rock is laying in the midst of the sharp glass blades of the window. Wondering what or who did this, I start to move toward the long cupboard where I put my broom. Still half tired, I reach for the knob and rest my petite hand on it. With a swift turn of my wrist and the wind of the door as I open it, I am faced with two large eyes staring back at me. I don’t scream, I just stare. Why? Because instead of screaming, my eyes start to water.

My life is flashed before my eyes because I look down and see a gun resting in his hands. Why me? What did I do to him? I did nothing that’s what. I did nothing to hurt him. I was just caught at the wrong time, at the wrong place, in the wrong room. Yes, if I didn’t wake up and check what the noise was, he would have just robbed my house. That would be bad but nothing close to what is about to happen. I didn’t get to have a husband. I didn’t get to have children. I would never be married or have a tiny, little face look up at me and call me his mother. I would never get to say goodbye to my friends. I would never get to finish college and get my dream job. I would never see my family again… including my dear parents. What would they do when they saw what had happened to me? What could have happened in the future if I was offered a second chance? My thoughts were interrupted by a sound that no one would ever like to hear.

Screaming, I wake up because only realizing it was a dream did not shake the nauseating feeling of the nightmare.