My body is shuddering. The light of the fire teases me, playing on my fear heartlessly, expecting me to give in. I feel a sense of urgency to move but my limbs are locked in place. I try as hard as I can to escape but my attempts are futile as the flames of the fire crawl closer. Heat envelops my body as the fire makes an uproarious growl, ready to swallow up my body. Not again, I don’t want to feel this pain again. The fire makes a leap toward me, its flame my leg…

“NO!” I yell, waking up from that horrid dream that never ceases to scare me.

With tears running down my face and my body shaking violently, I feel hopeless.

Most night it’s like this, I can never escape from my traumatic past; it always finds ways to haunt me. Relentlessly provoking me, scaring me until I have to lock myself in the bathroom, hoping to find comfort where the flames can’t reach me; a place where there’s water.  I wish to never revisit that incident.

In order to calm myself down, I drag myself to the kitchen, forever paranoid of flames overwhelming me. Grabbing myself a glass of water, I find comfort in its cool and calming nature. The water leaves a soothing trail down my throat and slowly reduces my shaking. Bringing the glass up to my forehea