She was suddenly awake from her sleep. Pitch black surrounded her. Even the moonlight failed to shine through the thick clouds that covered it. She squinted as her vision adjusted to the red digits of her clock on top of her side table. 1:37 A.M., it says.
Nothing unusual, she thought. For the past week, she always finds herself waking up in the middle of the night. She closed her eyes and tried to drift back to sleep.
She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling though she can’t see anything in particular. She tried focusing on an invisible spot in the middle of the darkness. She needed to clear her mind of anything. It didn’t help.
Silence. Though the night is quiet and calm, it still didn’t invite her to slumber. All she could hear is the series of her breathing and the sounds of the nocturnal insects outside. She decided to reach out for her music player placed beside her digital clock. She put on her headset.
Shuffle play: On.
Repeat tracks: On.
Track after track, she listened to the continuous music playing. Bach, Pachelbel, Vivaldi, and even Brahm’s classics didn’t lull her back to slumber. She turned and flipped for several times to place her in a comfortable position. Comfort was not a guarantee.
She looked at her digital clock again. The time is really running slow, at least for her. She thought of buying a new clock one of these following days. Maybe it’s the one with the problem.
It’s nearly 3 A.M. The witching hour is almost over, she thought. She was never superstitious but maybe a demonic orgy somewhere near the neighborhood is making the negative forces cause sleep disturbances. She laughed and set her crazy idea aside. Sleeplessness is really driving her to the cuckoo’s nest.
She can’t remember if it was from Reader’s Digest or TV which said a person should keep a notepad and a pen at the bedside because creative ideas usually come out at around three in the morning. She stopped recalling the exact source of it but she tried to think. Unluckily, nothing creative popped out from her mind. Lack of sleep is killing her brain cells and besides, she doesn’t have any paper or pen around in her bedroom.
Random thoughts entered her mind like what outfit will she wear later this morning or what will she have for breakfast. Thinking about breakfast reminded her that her refrigerator is nearly empty. She had been so preoccupied these last few weeks that she forgot about her household responsibilities. “Gosh!” she uttered as she remembered that some of her bills are days overdue. She’ll work on them later this day.
With the various thoughts and memories running through her faculty of thoughts, she came down to the real cause of this sleeplessness—HIM. She tried forgetting about him. She tried damn hard to suppress her feelings. She wished for all of these hurting to end. She wanted to be happy again, to be normal and live as if nothing of these had ever happened. But it just kept on crawling back to her like a disease.
Flashbacks ran through her head. She remembered how they met. It was at their common friend’s wedding. They were introduced then became friends. From friendship, everything went out of hand. She felt a strong emotion for him and she thought he also felt the same. But instead, he left her. She felt alone. Hurt. Used. Damaged.
She thought of the way he kissed her, the way he touched her. She also remembered the way she reacted to them. Her heart thumped against her ribs. A surge of unexplained emotions flooded her. She will never forget that time. She will always remember it. How he hurt her before he left.
Remembering the past, streams of tears ran from her eyes. She wept quietly. As quiet as the sleeping night.
Where can he be right now? Is he with someone else? Kissing and touching her like he did to me?
She knew her answers won’t be answered. And maybe even if they’re answered, it will not matter anymore.
She started sobbing. She hugged herself because she knew that no one will do that for her. She shed her tears as her body trembled as if she was cold. Cold and alone.
Her sobbing and weeping stopped. Again, there was silence. It was the only moment she realized that there were no more sound coming from her music player. The battery died. She wished she was just like her music player—quiet and resting.
The first light of the day that penetrated her windows snapped her back from her now blank thoughts. She already knew that her eye bags are puffed alongside the dark circles that have been around her eyes for the past days.
She wished she had just taken the sleeping pills prescribed to her. It was given to her a week before but she was in denial of the problem she has. She didn’t need any help from pills. She can move on on her own. But this time, she was just tired and deprived. It might help her.
Absentmindedly, she walked to her bathroom. She stared at her frail-looking reflection. She opened her faucet, washed her face with cold water, and pat it dry with her sweatshirt’s sleeve.
She went back to her room and sat before her dressing table and vanity mirror. She loved putting make-up. She dabbed the concealer applicator under her eyes to hide the dark circles around it. She brushed some pink blush on her cheeks and applied lipstick. She stared back at her reflection and felt satisfied on her work. She doesn’t look pale anymore.
She walked back to her bed, opened the drawer of her bedside table and got hold of the bottle of sleeping tablets. She poured at least 15 or 20 on her palm. She popped them into her mouth by threes. She chewed before swallowing them before lying on her back. She didn’t care if she’ll ever wake up again or not. All she wanted to do is get some sleep, to get away from reality.
Being awake means facing the painful reality. She wants to drift away from it.
She placed the pillow under her head and covered herself with the duvet. She closed her eyes as she waited for the drugs to kick in. She just wished she was Sleeping Beauty. Unaware of the ugly vines growing. Unaware of the ugly things happening around her. Just sleeping on her bed so peacefully. Only, she wanted her ending to be different. She does not want a Prince Charming to kiss her back to life. She doesn’t to be touched at all. She didn’t anyone to touch her body like the way he used and hurt her. Like the way he raped her.