I woke up around three in the morning gasping for air, feeling around to make sure I was awake and fully in the real world. After confirming this, I curled up into a fetal position, resting my forehead on my knees. My long brown hair fell around me, tickling my ankles as I tried to think over the horrible nightmare I had just woken up from.

I had been trapped somewhere on the hospital grounds. The backyard to Building Number One, I think. It was extremely dark, the only light coming from a full moon and a small lantern I was holding. The stars had been completely covered by an overcast, and there was no sound at all. I was in my school uniform, only instead of the shiny black ballet flats I was wearing knee-high black boots. Plodding through the tall grass with my lantern held out in front of me, I searched for something. There was a very strange, metallic smell filling the air, getting stronger as I moved forwards.

Suddenly, there was a trail of a shiny red substance at my feet, splattered around on the grass. It got darker and darker as it moved on, the grass looking like it had been shoved over as if something was being dragged through it. I had been walking with my eyes down on the ground, but when I reached the largest splatter I lifted them to look ahead.

Right in front of me lay the mutilated body of a young girl. Her blue eyes were staring ahead, not seeing anything. There was no light or soul in them, instead hosting a strange empty look and blood flecks. Her face was coated in thick red blood, some of which was trickling out from her head. The roots of her long yellow-blonde hair were completely red, and further up her hair was stained red. Only at the end was it in its untainted color.

Her neck was slashed wide open, part of her esophagus spilling out. Standing out from the dark red flesh and blood from her mutilated neck was a golden chain, which held a small golden heart. Slowly, chain and heart were being stained red from the blood trickling slowly out of the wound.

Below her neck, what remained of her body was a mess. Blood and guts were spilling out from everywhere, from her intestines to her heart, which had been neatly cut out and was laying beside her right hand, which had remained untouched from the rest of her body. Everything else on her had been cut open, revealing everything from guts to bones. Her left hand had been completely chopped off, laying under her heart.

Fighting off the urge to vomit and scream from the sheer horror of what I had seen, I looked up. Using the light of my lantern, I could make out a dark figure shoveling the ground open. It was donned in completely black clothing and wearing a mask over its face. Dirt and grass lay next to its feet in a pile as it kept shoveling out a small pit, with a sheet of grass that had been neatly lifted up out of the ground, two large rocks  with a red drill on top of them, and two buckets of freshly mixed plaster. Behind it lay a large, empty black bag, which had a pair of white bloodstained children's shoes on it to hold it down.

After staring in horror for a few more minutes, I watched the figure set the shovel down. It then went over to the small child, yanking the necklace off of her neck and pocketing it. It pet her hair a little bit, and then it went over to a bucket of plaster and poured it into the hole, leaving some behind in the first bucket. Moving quickly, it picked up the bag and put the shoes into it before lowering it into the hole. Using the two large rocks to hold the bag open, it went over and lifted the mutilated remains bridal style, then set its foot on the edge of the bag to keep an extra hold on it. Carefully, it slid the remains into the bag, permanently and forever stuck in a standing position. Leaning over, the figure lifted the rock and drill off of the bags edges, took its foot off, and let it slid further into the plaster. It kneeled down, shut the bag, and poured the rest of the plaster in the first bucket over it to completely seal it. After that, it got up and picked up the heart and hand, then set them down on top of the plaster, heart in the hand. It poured some of the plaster from the second bucket over that, smoothed it out, and went for the first large rock.

Moving quickly, I went to stand behind the figure as I watched him take up the drill and begin drilling into the rock, carving in words. It took all of ten minutes, and when it was done it set the rock into the hole, pressing it into the plaster with the words facing up. I moved to be able to read them, holding my light down to them.

Anasztázia Erzsébet Áldozat

March 21^st 2000 – November 10^th 2012

MURDERED FOR OWN SAKE ~PJLD

Covering my mouth with my free hand, I watched the figure pour the rest of the plaster over the rock, and then put some of the dirt over that. Anasztázia happened to be a neighbor of mine...

Finally, the figure lowered the final rock into the hole over the dirt, and finished covering it with dirt. When done with that, it used the shovel to put the ripped up sheet of grass back over the hole and pat it down, and then it looked like there had never been a hole in the first place. Everything had been sealed with plaster and a garbage bag, never to be found again.

The figure picked up the shovel and walked right through me as if I was a ghost, entering the hospital building, leaving me standing in front of the recently covered grave. It began to drizzle, rain, and then it became a downpour, the blood rinsing away and leaving everything as if nothing had happened.

That was when I let forth and unrelenting, bloodcurdling scream and shot awake.

Hugging my knees close to my chest, I glanced over at the small clock. It was a little after three thirty in the morning, three hours left until I had to wake up and got to school. After that dream, I never wanted to leave the safety of my padded box. Turning on the light and hiding under the blankets, I curled back up into a fetal position, tears finally spilling out of my eyes as I shut them, attempting to block out what had just gone on inside of my mind.

Was Anasztázia a victim of the serial killer? Was the entire dream a real psychic vision of the supposed person that had gone missing this evening when Gunvor and I saw the shovel? As these questions spun through my head, the letters 'P', 'J', 'L', and 'D' kept popping up in that order. Were those the initials of the serial killer?

Unable to sleep with all of this running through my head, I crawled out from under the covers and slid the door open, crawling out of my box and heading back down to my bedroom floor. I pulled the chord to turn on my bedroom light, and went over to the beanbag chair. Taking a seat, I grabbed the notebook and pencil, turned to the first page, and began to write down the dream, putting my questions at the end of the description. It took a half hour, but when I was done I was exhausted and ready to finally go back to sleep. Shutting out the lights and crawling back into my box, I passed out.

*****

Groggy and exhausted, I walked into the kitchen the next morning. My father and Kylli had already left for work, leaving my mother and I as the only ones in the kitchen; Aliisa, Piritta, and Väinö didn't have to be awake yet to go to school, as they started later than me.

"How did you sleep, Eveliina?" My mother asked as I poured myself a cup of strong, black coffee and downed most of it in one gulp.

"Horribly. I had an awful nightmare last night."

"You are probably just worked up about the serial killer and seeing that shovel last night, lapsi."

That and witnessing someone burying a body in my dream.

"I guess." I replied in agreement, pouring myself some more coffee and again downing it in one shot. With that, I smeared some peanut butter over a piece of toast and gobbled it up.

"Do not forget to take your medication, Eveliina." My mother told me, opening up the newspaper. I nodded and went over to the counter, pouring out a third cup of coffee and pulling my pillbox towards myself; for most of my life, I had been living with an allergy to mold. It wasn't too bad or crippling, but it was annoying. Being exposed to mold would make my eyes water and I would sneeze uncontrollably. I also took medication for a mild anxiety disorder I had been diagnosed with shortly after moving to America. Swallowing the two pills, I closed my pillbox and put it back in its spot, then turned around. Leaning on the counter, I continued to sip my coffee.

"Anything going on in the news?" I asked my mother.

"Yes, it appears that Anasztázia Áldozat was reported missing by her parents yesterday afternoon."

A mouthful of coffee was wasted as I did a spit-take, nearly dropping my mug. My mother lowered the newspaper, an eyebrow raised at me. Slowly, I set the mug down and got some paper towels to clean up what I had violently spit out in shock.