It happens every night.

The icy hand grabs my neck.

I am trapped.

I can’t breathe.

My chest feels like it’s going to explode.

It’s getting tighter.

I may not make it.

The cold sweat takes over.

The icy hand releases its grip.

I breathe through tears

I peer into the darkness.

Don’t come back, I whisper.

I reach for the Xanax.

It’s the only thing that keeps it away.