I Can Never Sleep Again

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
I own his heart. Literally.

Submitted: January 25, 2015

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Submitted: January 25, 2015



He has been gone for a few days now, but has never really left me.

I have been at the receiving end of his torture, his quiet brutality, and I still live in fear. I have taken to staying silent, always watching, always ready to run when I see his shadow slant across the open doorway.


I have lost any interest in living and have been glued to my bed, ever since he sent me that video and the cops came too late. 

After watching it - it was short, only half a minute long - I shut down my laptop and went to my bed. I never surfaced again. 

I don't eat, I don't talk, I never answer when somebody calls. All I do is stare at the ceiling, listening to the calm sound of my own breathing. My heart is so loud that ever beat wracks my body with tremors.


Every now and then, I fall asleep. It's not easy, but I take each blessed second of relief and submerge myself in the vast nothingness of my slumber.

I used to love sleeping.

But not anymore...

I never used to dream until he died. 

Now, I do everything to stay awake. 


Cold fingertips trailing on my face. Wisps of breath on my bare skin. Ghostly lips brushing mine. Strong hands gripping my shoulders so hard that imprints remain. Cruel teeth raking down my neck, leaving slashes of stinging red behind.


I knew, then, that I would gladly have died to escape.

But I don't. 

He lets go of me and I wake up, just when the pain is almost to much to bear. 

He's doing this on purpose, I know. If he let me die, he won't have anyone to play with anymore.


I huddle at the edge of my bed, my sheets around me and my eyes darting from one dark corner of the room to the other. I'm so thin and weak that I know i'm going to pass out any time now.

But I can't. I can't fall asleep and dream again.


When he was alive, he used to be a person so full of light and life. He always laughed. He was always surrounded by people who were electrified by his magnetism. His blue eyes had a way of captivating you and never letting you go.

I, on the other hand, was a void.. 

When he started showing up around me, I felt my void being invaded, filled up with his light. Whenever he left, I felt drained as well. 

I knew he was bad for me and I needed to escape his clutches. 

He couldn't, and wouldn't understand. 

Of course. I remember now. That's why I had to kill him.

He always wore his heart on his sleeve. His feelings were so intense, and he was so emotionally charged that I felt exhausted whenever I spent time with him. 

I didn't know it that time, but I was dying because of his love. I'm not the type of person who can get attached to other people. I'm content to let them come and go. 

He couldn't let go. That's why I had to take his heart.


He's back tonight. I knew it, even though I wasn't dreaming. 

The curtains are fluttering slightly in the breeze, and the cold wind licks between my shoulder blades. I cover myself with a quilt and try to curl myself up into a smaller ball of misery. 

I never used to feel cold before. 

I feel his presence long before I catch sight of him, just beyond my periphery. He has the same sympathetic smile, but the light in his eyes are gone. 

He wraps his arms around me and eases me into a spooning position. His cold palm rests on my chest, just over where my heart was. 

I mean, where his heart was.

"You don't need it," he whispers to me. "You're not strong enough to have one."

It's too much, all at once. I feel the cold, and his loneliness, and his fear. I feel the gravity of what I've done and the emotions I've never felt and had no business of feeling. I can't stop the sudden searing pain that tears through me and I realize - too late - that this is what regret feels like.

I guess having a heart was as fatal for me as much as missing one was deadly for him.

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