"What about the nightmares, Kiera?""What about them?" I asked."Are you stil having them?""Yes," I told her.The doctor sat opposite me, her thin hands holding my case file across the lap of her tweed skirt. Her pale, grey eyes stared back at me from behind her glasses.She wasn't unattractive, but her fair hair was puled too tightly into a bun at the base of her neck, which gave her face a pinched, almost angry look. She couldn't have been any older than thirty-five but the glasses and the way she fixed her hair made her look more like forty-five. She appeared very prim and proper - but I could see that there was more to her than that."Are they always the same?" she pushed, her eyes fixed on mine over the rim of her glasses."About my mother?" I asked, although I knew what she meant. "Yes they are mostly about my mother," I answered."Mostly?" she fired back, keen to pick up on every word that I said."Mostly," I repeated."What else then, if not about your mother?" she asked, opening my file and taking a pen from her desk."Doctor Keats, I've been coming to see you every week now for the last six months. You know what else," I replied."The vampires?" she asked."Yes," I said, not breaking her stare."Tel me about them," she pushed, pen poised above her notes."Why? What's the point?" I asked, trying not to get frustrated with her. "You don't believe me - no one believes me. That's why