Chapter 8 Charlie Part 2

• "Anna" I hear as soft as a whisper and then a scraping noise coming from my closet. Cautiously uncovering my head, I am so scared that I feel myself shivering, but I still climb out of bed and stand up. Hearing the scraping noise again, I take a step in the general direction of the closet. However, when I hear my name again being called, I run back to the security of my covers and hide underneath them. Shaking uncontrollably, I stay under the covers and listen carefully for any sounds. What I hear next chills me to the bone and I find myself peeing the bed. Next to me, I feel a slight disturbance in the air flow and then I hear it. "Anna." A distinctely male voice screeches. It hurts my ears because it is so close and when I end up covering them with my hands, it pulls the covers off of me quickly. Revealing the source of the sound, my heart stops for a beat and then I black out. Waking up the next morning, I am so sure that the whole thing had to be a nightmare, because I am laying in bed with not a mark on me and the covers are over my head. I jump out of bed, carefully staying away from the closet and grab some clothes out of the drawers. As I pull on my blue corduroy pants, I grab my fluffy pink sweater and wiggle into it before going into the kitchen to eat breakfast. Mom glances over at me with a curious look and then states, "Breakfast will be ready in a minute. I threw some cinnamon rolls in the oven and they still have a minute or two before they are brown." Smiling, I reply, "Oh, that sounds yummy mom. Thanks." Sitting down at the table, I wait patiently as I drink my orange juice. Mom glances over at me again and asks, "Did you have anymore nightmares last night?" "Yes, I don't know what is going on. Ever since Billie gave me Charlie, I have been having this same bad dream over and over. It is so real that I peed the bed, I'm sorry." Mom shrugs her shoulders and replies, "Honey, it's O.K., I have to change the sheets today anyways. I am doing wash and it has been a week or two since they have been done." Feeling somewhat relieved, I sit back on the chair and await mom's scrumptious cinnamon rolls. She always makes them homemade and they are the best. After a few minutes, they are ready and when I get a whiff of them in the air, my stomach growls. She hands me a plate with two of them on it and I scarf them right down like they are going out of style, then she asks, "Do you want another one?" "Mom, of course I do. You know that I can eat five of those in one sitting." I smirk and start to laugh when she plates up two more. She laughs and just shakes her head, "Honey, one of these days you are going to have a butt the size of jupiter." She says jokingly and then sits down to relax for a few minutes before cleaning up her mess. Sometimes, I think my mom is the best mom in the whole wide world. She bakes awesome treats and cooks like a culinary cheff, yet she still has time to spend with me. Matter of fact, I don't know of any of my friend's mothers who does that. They may back a rack of cookies from the grocery store or mix up the premade bags of cookies, but no one does everything from scratch like her.