Personal Narrative: My Mother's Death

I shift under the covers,alone,in eerie silence.I clutch my elbows,looking back at the darkness.He was there when my mother died;and even then,I could hear my mom's cries from the coffin.Suddenly,everything falled down,inch by inch.
His face was unrecognizable and uncanny.
I could feel him,tearing my pillows to shreds,ripping my bedsheets,and yanking me out of bed.His claws digged into my calf,leaving scratch marks everywhere.I screamed,the blistering pain choking me and enclosing me.
Soon, I could leave the pain and suffering,the torture,and the chaos.They would soon cradle me and help me go to bed. I wanted to be dreaming.I wanted to be able to enjoy the unknown and be satisfied with the sinful temptations every once in awhile.
I screamed