Dark Awakening

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Alison Bennson walked through the disaster in her living room with slow, heavy steps. The cushions from her microsuede couch lay in strips among the cottony pieces of filling on the floor. Her fists tightened and she fought a wave of hot tears that threatened to spill down her flushed cheeks. It took her eight months to save up the money to buy that couch and now it was nothing.

The mess in her apartment made it look like she owned more than she did. Shards from her plates and glasses were the only things left of them. The sight of her expensive collection lying in sharp shambles almost brought her to tears. Her mother had bought her that for her birthday two years ago.

With heavy step, she walked down the hall to her bedroom. The door was halfway open. The black shadows beyond the door waited like a nightmare wanting to suck her in. She closed her eyes, sucked in an uneven breath, then flicked on the light.

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