text: Her screams, her earth shattering screams tore through the building, jolting Violet wide awake. It took her only a moment to realise the source of those screams. It was happening again. It had been six months since the last time it had happened. Wrapping her chiffon nightgown around herself, Violet sprinted down the dimly lit hallway until she reached her daughters bedroom and flung open the door with a bang. Mia’s eyes were firmly shut. She was still fast asleep in the large four poster ‘princess’ bed that made her look every bit of the five year old she was. She was so tiny, even the shrill cries that came out from her mouth seemed way too big for her. Hearing those cries, seeing her thrashing in that bed and crumpling her bed sheets, absolutely terrified the life out of Violet. A picture ingrained into her mind but a picture that no parent wanted to see. Most parents hated seeing their child in distress and would do almost anything to alleviate their child's pain. There was nothing that Violet wouldn’t do but standing there in the doorway, she felt completely useless, a failure. She had mistakenly believed that after all the therapy sessions, psychologist appointments and assessments, Mia had gotten better. She had made great progress after all, not a single nightmare in the last six months. But maybe that was just a fool's hope as it appeared that they were back exactly where they had started. Violet struggled to see where they could go from here after exhausting all the options the professionals had previously listed. What more could the professionals do that they haven’t done already? All she knew in that very moment was that she needed to be Mia’s mother. She needed to comfort her, protect her and banish whatever evil was currently infiltrating her sweet dreams. Violet walked over to Mia’s bed, the blush carpet soft under the balls of her bare feet and sat on the edge of it. Mia continued to toss and turn, totally sucked in by the terrors that haunted her unconsciousness, the darkness totally suffocating her. Violet shuffled over on the bed towards her, the bed whining in protest as she did, and placed Mia’s head on her lap. Although her face was flushed and her golden curls were plastered to her forehead with sweat, she was so cold. Violet tucked Mia in closer and wrapped the blanket even tighter around her. Staring down at her angelic face, she began to sing her favourite lullaby. A fitting lullaby about a boat sailing worries away. After a few minutes, Mia’s shallow breaths evened. She had finally returned to a peaceful sleep, dreaming of unicorns and fairies, Violet assumed like any other normal five year old girl. Yet, she was aware that Mia was not normal. She felt it with every fibre of her being that there was something not quite right with her little baby. She had been having these recurring nightmares since she was two. It could have been longer than that but that was the age she first uttered “same mommy” after being asked what her nightmare was about again. As she grew older and her speech became better, Mia was able to give more information about her nightmare but she refused to divulge in the details. The only details she did provide was that it was indeed the same nightmare every night and her mother featured in it. The next morning, Violet stood by the stove making waffles for breakfast and heard Mia before she could see her. Unlike last night, the sound of her voice was sweet, full of joy and happiness. Upon hearing her entrance, Violet turned to face her. She skipped into the kitchen, her curls bouncing with the movement. She wore a smile so bright that it could obliterate even the darkest shadows from existence. “Morning pumpkin, want some waffles for breakfast?” Violet asked, already knowing what her daughter's reply would be. Mia jumped up and down and rubbed her stomach “Yes, please mommy. I sure do love waffles.” Mia was still wearing the pink and white unicorn pyjamas that she wore last night. Pyjamas that Violet could no longer look at without thinking about how terrified and dainty she looked as she violently thrashed in her bed the evening before. The dark circles set around her eyes was also yet another reminder of it. It was a Sunday and there was nothing she could really do until tomorrow. Violet would have to make all the necessary calls then, including a courtesy call to update Mia’s father. Even after a turbulent and abusive marriage, a messy divorce and a strenuous custody battle, Violet tried to keep it somewhat civilised with Simon for Mia’s sake. Violet did not believe that Simon deserved one ounce of her kindness. He did such terrible things during their marriage and most likely continued to do them now but he was still Mia’s father after all. For that reason and that reason alone was why Violet provided Simon with updates about Mia and allowed him supervised visits to see her. Violet had met Simon fresh out of school whilst working at a garage on the outskirts of town. She fell head over heels for him. It was love at first sight, a dream come true. He was charming, witty and his icy blues would make even sapphires appear dull in colour. It wasn’t until a couple years into their marriage when things started to take a turn for the worst. Simon’s addiction problem spun out of control. With that came the lies, the deceit, the abuse and the debt. Violet was miserable most of the time but there were moments, those few moments, that the old Simon would make an appearance. The caring, kind and thoughtful Simon. The Simon that she fell in love with. The Simon that she married. Violet held on to those moments and for that reason she stayed. Violet made the decision to finally leave Simon a week after discovering she was pregnant with Mia. It was a day that she would never be able to forget, a day her world almost fell completely apart. Violet was doing the dishes, listening to Gotye’s ‘somebody I used to know’ on the radio when Simon stormed into the house. She could tell by the sound of his clunky black boots stomping across the hallway that it was going to be one of those days. Simon entered the room, the reek of weed and God knows what else clinging to his clothes, and switched off the radio. In the absence of the music all Violet could hear was the raggedness of his breath. His pupils were so dilated that his eyes had almost turned entirely black. After seeing those eyes, eyes that flashed with a wildness that you would only expect to see in a viscous caged animal, she returned to her task blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. With her back turned to Simon, Violet furiously scrubbed each dish as she listened to his steps come closer behind her inch by inch. She could feel the warmth of his breath tingling the back of her neck. She could smell the whiskey on his breath, almost tasting it. Violet glanced up to the window overlooking the garden and caught sight of him in its reflection. She watched nervously as his fist rose up and came down on her head. The beating had lasted three torturous hours, leaving her in a coma for three months. She spent those months dreaming of cool mountain breezes and boats of various shapes and sizes that waited at the dock, waiting to take worries away. She was lucky to be alive and it was a miracle that Mia survived. The day she was discharged from hospital, Violet decided that not only for her own sake but for her child's, she was going to file for a divorce. From across the table, Violet sat as she watched her miracle baby devour the stack of waffles covered in golden syrup. A choice Violet had instantly regretted once she saw her sticky, mucky hands. Ignoring the looming mess that she would need to clear up, she picked up the Sunday newspaper and sipped the freshly squeezed orange juice which tasted just as divine as it smelt. While in the midst of reading about an acquisition made by some tech giant, Mia’s utensils clattered on the table. Violet peered over the newspaper to give a look that only a mother could master. However, Mia’s eyes were affixed on the front page of the newspaper, her face turning a couple of shades paler than it had been two seconds ago. Mia froze, her sticky empty hand still hanging mid air. Violet folded the newspaper and set it down on the table. “What’s wrong pumpkin, you ok?” “Mommy, when the door -” Mia was cut off by the loud rapping sound on the door. With a screech of her chair, Violet rose to her feet and made her way to answer it, wondering who on earth would be calling this early in the day. “Mommy don’t ...” Mia screamed as Violet pulled the door wide open. Mia’s screams were a fraction too late. The gun shot fired with a reverberating bang. All Mia could now do was watch as her nightmare, her greatest fear played out in front of her conscious eyes. Violet sank down to her knees, her hands falling to the wound on her abdomen. She tried to conceal the puncture but it didn’t matter how hard she tried, it was impossible to stop the river of red from flowing. The warm, sticky liquid covered her delicate hands, seeping into the cream tunic she wore and staining it crimson. Violet was so tired. Her vision distorted and blurred as she attempted to keep her eyes open. She wasn’t sure if the male wearing a balaclava before her, gripping a pistol firmly in his right hand, was a figment of her imagination or not. The masked man side-stepped Violet like she was nothing but a beggar on the street. Violet shouted at the man to leave her daughter alone, but no words came out. Violet tried to kick, scream and bite the intruder but instead slumped onto the ground where she lay on the cold, hard, marble floor. As she sprawled in a pool of her own blood, it finally occurred to her. Mia had known. All this time Mia had known she was going to die. Violet had always tried to be brave for her daughter, never did she think that her daughter was doing the very same. Her little girl had carried the weight of the world on her tiny shoulders, never revealing the true horrors that haunted her at night. Now, even more weight has been added to her already heavy shoulders. With one final look before slipping into a permanent sleep, Violet observed Mia’s bottom lip tremble as the intruder snatched her up from the ground and held her in his arms. The intruder with his face concealed except for his eyes, his icy blue eyes.