Somniphobia

Chapter 1. Somniphobia

Aria POV
The loud rain and lightning striking outside made me cry as I covered my head, desperately trying to comfort myself from having a panic attack because of the loud lightning strikes.

I hugged my stuffed panda tightly in my arms as tears rushed down my cheeks. Another loud, rumbling lightning strike made me jump out of my bed.

I walked out of my bedroom, rushing toward my parents' room down the hall. I quickly opened their door, tiptoeing my way over to their bed.

"M-Mommy..." I cried out, tapping her shoulder desperately to wake her up. "M-Mom..." I cried again as the thunder grew louder and scarier.

"What?" my mother, Elizabeth, whisper-yelled tiredly, causing me to tense up even more.

"I-I'm s-scared, m-mommy..." I cried. She sat up in her bed, staring at me angrily and annoyed.

"Get out of my bedroom and quit acting like a child. It's just thunder—get over yourself!" She slapped me harshly across the face. I sobbed in pain and shock.

"Get out before you wake your father up," she whisper-shouted angrily.

I turned and ran out of the room, crying as I rushed back into mine. I closed my door and climbed back into my bed, covering my head under the blanket while keeping my eyes wide open to avoid falling asleep.

Not only was I scared of the thunder, but I was scared of sleeping. I had terrible nightmares that kept me awake all night and day.

I refused to sleep no matter how tired, exhausted, or weak I felt. I physically and mentally could not handle falling asleep on my own. My parents hated me because I refused to sleep.

Sometimes I tried forcing myself, but I always woke up screaming or having a panic attack. And when I did, I had to recover on my own because my parents never helped me.

Ever since I was little, they never bothered to help me with anything. I was always told to suck it up or threatened with being put back in the basement—which happened a lot.

They would lock me in the basement for days, weeks, even months depending on how angry I made them. They wouldn't feed me, and if they did, they threw the food at me like I was a dog.

I hated the basement. It was scary, dark, and cold. They never gave me blankets or a pillow. I was forced to sleep on the cold cement floor as punishment for getting on their nerves.

My voice and speech annoyed them the most. They hated that I stammered. I couldn't help it—I was born this way. I tried to fix it so many times, but nothing worked.

Eventually I realized the thunder had stopped. I slowly uncovered myself and looked toward the window, noticing the sun had come up and the storm was gone.

I got out of bed and went into my small bathroom to brush my teeth. As I brushed, I noticed the dark circles under my eyes. I looked so tired I barely recognized myself.

I finished brushing and rinsed my mouth quickly so I could get dressed and start breakfast before my dad woke up and noticed I hadn't started cooking yet.

I opened my drawer to pick out an outfit. I hated all my clothes—they were stained, ripped, or looked like something an old woman would wear.

I grabbed my favorite dress, even though it had a few holes in it from how often I wore it and how old it was. I changed into it quickly before brushing out my long brown hair.

My hair reached the back of my knees. I had never cut it—not once in my life. My mother had threatened a few times to shave my head because she knew how much I loved my hair.

I hated her and my father for being so cruel. I tried my best to take care of my hair, but brushing it was hard because my hands got tired so quickly.

I think because I never slept like a normal person, my body got tired more easily.

My parents refused to buy me clothes for my age. They made me wear dirty, ripped, or old-lady clothes. I put on my dress quickly so I could go downstairs.

I made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen, grabbing my apron so I could start cooking breakfast.

"Aria!" my mother yelled angrily. I looked over at her quietly.

"I need you to go to the store. You have one hour max to get everything on this list and come back. Am I understood?" she instructed.

"Y-yes m-ma'am..." I stammered nervously as she handed me a long list and her card.

"We have guests coming over. Don't embarrass us," she warned. "Go! What are you waiting on?" she yelled, making me rush away from her.

I ran to the front door, putting on my shoes quickly. I would have to walk all the way to the store—they never allowed me to drive their fancy cars.

She could've gone herself, but she always made me walk because she said I was too fat and needed to stay fit.

I walked along the side of the road, praying silently that I would make it on time. If not, she would lock me in the basement or beat me for taking too long. She timed every task she gave me.

I wondered who was coming over that she pushed me out the door instead of making breakfast like every morning. I hoped my dad wouldn't get angry with me for not having breakfast ready.

When my father got angry, he beat me until I blacked out. My mom was no different—they both used me as their punching bag.

I started running toward the store, grabbing a cart on my way inside. I looked at the list, checking off each item as I placed it into the cart.

I rushed through each aisle, grabbing everything she wrote. Once I got the last item, I headed to the register.

I unloaded everything so they could scan it quickly. I checked the clock on the wall and realized I had already spent twenty minutes in the store—meaning I had only fifteen minutes left to get home.

I paid and grabbed all the bags, rushing outside. The bags were heavy, and I used all my strength while speed walking to get back in time.

She had purposely added things we already had so the bags would be heavier. I hated her. I didn't understand why she made everything so hard for me.

I was sweating in the heat. My head pounded with a raging headache because I hadn't eaten or drunk anything since coming downstairs.

I was used to nightmares because of the lack of sleep, so headaches were nothing new—though sometimes they got so bad I had to take medication.

I entered my neighborhood and walked faster. Then I noticed two blacked-out cars in the driveway.

My heart pounded harder as I realized...

... I came home late.

To be continued...

Author's Note:
I'm trying my best to remember how I wrote each chapter. I'm making it a little different because I can't remember everything that happened or was written before. But hopefully you guys will still enjoy it just as much as the original before it was taken down.