Victoria had it out for me. That’s the way it had always been. Since grade school she relentlessly teased me. Today’s target: the asteroid of a pimple snuggly attached to my forehead; center-stage for Icky Vicky’s bullying pleasures. I wished she would choke on her lunch. I watched as she chewed. Strings of saliva mixed with lunch meat as she gnashed her last bites. No such luck today.

Later that night, I curled into bed. As I combed through the events of the day, Victoria’s crude comments entertwined with bystanders’ laughter. I closed my eyes tight; counting the sheep as I prayed for the reprieve of sleep.

The cold iron door stood in front of me. I’d seen this door in my dreams hundreds of times before. Remembered its ornate carvings and the vicious vines crawling their way around. As I twisted the knob, I wondered what the other side beheld today. It was always different.

Today was no exception. For on the other side, Victoria sat; loudly chewing in a cartoonish way. I wished she would choke. Before the thought had time to fully emerge she went silent. Her eyes wide. Panic consumed her as she clutched her throat. Did I do this? A twinge of shame pinched my cheeks as I watched and did nothing. I shoved the shame aside and wished she would die. Immediately, her eyes glazed over and she sagged deep into her chair. I was in the comfort of my own dreams, why did this shame keep weaseling its way back in? The edges of the room began to darken in a familiar way; my exit cue. Back through the door.

The figure of young girl rocked in her mother’s lap. The sweet lullaby graced my ears. “You are my sunshine. My only sunshine.” The voice caressed my soul. I wished I had a bed. Suddenly a bed emerged. The sheets melted away the lingering shame. As sleep took over I recognized them. The little girl transformed into my mother as the woman’s face aged into my grandmother’s. I drifted into a peaceful slumber.

I awoke. The melody still played in my ears. “You make me happy, when skies are gray.” The corners of my mouth shifted into a contented smile. I readied for school, doing my best to cover up the nasty pimple. I knew it was no use. Victoria and her cronies would find me.

At school now, I heard the whispers. Whitnessed the tears. I did not see Victoria. Relief spread through me as the sound of the first bell rang true. The sea of students dispersed throughout the hall. The whispers circled me like predators do with prey, “Did you hear about Victoria… choked to death in her sleep.”