Shadows & Foreshadows
t figures that some of the best sleep of my life happened while I was incarcerated.
I had gone to bed feeling calm. Unfortunately, after two weeks of being absent, my nightmares chose that night to return.
I was subconsciously transported to a bathroom: the public kind. White tiles yellowed by time—at least I hoped it was time—lined the walls and floors. Stalls creaked with age. Three rectangular mirrors with residue dirt and backwash splatter were mounted behind the sinks.
A malicious-looking blonde with black eyes suddenly pushed the main door open. I recognized her instantly. She was the same blonde I’d seen tormenting Natalie Poole in one of my previous nightmares, one I’d had while I was in Adelaide.
When she first entered I froze. But then when she went abo
