By Helen Mylona

I think it is night. Or maybe morning. I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t know how many days I’ve been locked up in this room. All I remember is the last kiss my mother gave to me on my forehead before I went to sleep that cold November night. Now the sweet oblivion of my past is the only thing that characterizes me.

The windows are closed in this room, and I hear some footsteps coming towards me. I feel haunted and I wanna scream but I can’t. This tape on my mouth is the obstacle. Someone enters the room, and I think it’s a man. He gets closer to me and then I recognize who he is. That disgusting face with the ironic look claiming he has won belongs to the man that has been stalking my sister for the last month. I had noticed her fear for days, so one night I wore her clothes pretending to be her, not knowing though that this obsessed man would kidnap me.

Seeing his face up close I feel like throwing up. Maybe because I haven’t eaten for days. But I know he knows how I am. I can tell it as he raises the gun and places it on my forehead, and before he pulls the trigger, I know I won, not him.

Then everything turns blank…But then I open my eyes realizing it was just a bad dream.