I closed my eyes and curled up in the warm sheets. Even so, I could still feel his gaze on me, watching me, even in the darkness of the room.
I felt it until sleep finally claimed my mind.
I opened my eyes, or I thought I had.
I was in the house where I grew up as a child. But everything seemed bigger, stranger, the walls twisting like shadows. The smell of mold and burnt cigarette smoke saturated the air. The couch where my mother used to sleep looked like a coffin. Rotten, falling apart.
And she was there, exactly as in all my memories:
greasy blonde hair stuck to her forehead, red and sunken eyes, a syringe beside her.
However, her skin was greenish, dirty with soil, worms crawling over it. Flies danced around her.
"Nadia," she called my name, but the voice didn’t sound like it b
