I woke to pain -- screaming in agony. It was my own voice echoing in the night. The Kowalczyks rushed into my room and Mr. Kowalczyks fainted at the amount of blood. He was rushed to the hospital. The long gashes in my back quickly forgotten about, except for the blood seaping through the white tank top I'd been wearing.

But it didn't matter, the man was alright. I would survive. I always did.

I probably needed stitches but I didn't press. Chicks dig scars right? Not that I cared about that either way. Guys liked them too I suppose. They'd never complained.

I don't really remember the horrors of that night -- the dream lingered enough to draw the imagery, but it could be wrong. It felt so real, but all I remember is the pain. On nights like these that's all I remember -- the pain.