No Sleep (Chris Wood)

One

June 17th, 2015

"Good morning Gia."

I nodded at the man that sat across the desk from me. He was a burly old coot that went by "Doctor". I'm not sure what his real name was.

He owned the old Victorian house that I would be staying in for the next 6 months.

"Good morning." My tone was flat.

He was running a study on severe insomnia. I was one of his subjects, along with 4 others that I had not met yet. Only the the rarest, most severe cases were accepted.

Doc explained his study to me, he explained the conditions of my stay here and the rules.

"We'll be able to talk a lot more throughout the course of your time here." He finished as he handed me a slip of paper. It read "room 17".

The large house had a total of 20 rooms.

I was placed on the very top floor, along with one other person.

I didn't meet him directly on the first day. I only caught a glimpse of him as the staff moved all of my belongings into the small, but cozy, room. He laughed deeply at a very pretty staff member as she stood in front of him.

He was tall with a bright smile, his piercing eyes meeting mine as I walked past.
I quickly looked down.

He looked like trouble.

During the first week, the doctor dedicated our group sessions to getting to know each other.

The four other residents were very interesting people. One girl that donned all black everything (even her hair), was very extroverted and funny. She introduced herself as May.

The boy beside her, a very scrawny, short boy, said that his name was Mathis. They were brother and sister; their resemblance uncanny.

I spoke after them, with nothing much to say about myself.

The next girl was a very tall, slim woman. She looked older than me, maybe in her early 20s. Her name was Scarlett. She was so beautiful that being near her made me feel uncomfortable, self conscious.

"I'm Chris." I looked over to the boy that I shared a floor with. He smiled as he introduced himself.

Doc began to discuss the way that our nights would be planned out. Since everyone in the house had a certain level of sleeping problems, there would not be a set bedtime. The latest we could roam about the house, though, was midnight. After that, the doctor stressed that we were not to leave our rooms.

"Why not?" Mathis inquired.

Doc smiled and shook his head, "There will be monitors in your room. They'll record your sleeping habits." He changed the subject. "During group sessions, we'll discuss your dreams, your fears, your feelings. All of the things that have been proven to contribute to insomnia."

I'd been diagnosed with insomnia at a young age. I was probably 10. For years, after everyone else had fallen asleep, I would toss and turn in my bed. Often times I would get in trouble for roaming about the house at night, making noise and moving things around.

I had volunteered to do this study right after I graduated high school, deciding to take a year off before starting college. I figured there would be no way I would succeed if I was a nocturnal freak for the rest of my life.

We were dismissed back to our rooms so that we could arrange our belongings and get our bearings; it was already getting late.

I was at the bottom of the top flight of stairs when Chris caught up to me. "No coming out of your room after 12, little girl." He mocked Doc's voice before chuckling and jogging ahead of me.

Something about those words sent chills down my spine.