The nightmares started the night we moved into our new house. We were the first people to live in it, we moved in exactly one day after the builders finished building it. My dad had promised my mom that if we unpacked every last little box that was filled with all of our worldly treasures, or junk, in some cases, then he would give her however much money she required to decorate the house however she desired. And so because of this promise, all of us, from dad down to younger sister, spent the entire day going in and out of the house, up and down the stairs bringing in box after box after box. And when that was finally done, we spent the rest of the day, and part of the night working by naked bulbs, unpacking all of our possessions to start setting up our new home. It was around midnight that first night when we were finally finished, much to my dad's surprise, and we were finally allowed to go to sleep. Curled up between my bright green sheets and beneath my black and white comforter, the nightmares started.

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