identity horror stream of consciousness toxic family nightmaresA scream tears through my throat. Sweat drenches my sheets. The same nightmare as always.I sit in a car; she's in the driver's seat. She takes her eyes off the road for a second. One second. We are hit, we spin, we flip, we crash into an embankment. Snow falls through the broken window. Blood soaks my clothesher blood, not mine. I can't breathe, I can't breathe. When I turn to look at her, two gaping sockets stare back at me, and I can't breathe to scream.She appears in my doorway, clutching her tattered robe around her curvy frame and pursing her lips. She asks me what's wrong; I wipe my brow and give her a smile. Nothing. I'm fine. She gives me that look that says I'm a disappointment, no matter how many times she says she wants a daughter like me, and suggests sleeping pills. She knows I can't stand medication, not after I can'twon'ttake sleeping pills. I tell her not to worry, to just go back to bed.She leaves without another word and I lie in bed, staring at the whorls in the ceiling, trying not to see the crimson stain on her chest from where the steering wheel crushed her.~The Daughter She Wanted is a deep dive into the frail and unraveling thought stream of a high school girl living with her manipulative foster mother, navigating the world through the dissociative lenses of her chronic depression, undiagnosed autism,and cptsd.
