Insomnia. In basic, it means having a hard time sleeping, something with I'm sure a lot of you people have had happen to you. But voluntary insomnia? What?

I didn't always do this, sitting in bed late at night, an almost unlimited supply of caffeine in the form of Red Bull, Mountain Dew, and coffee beside me. (Honestly, I'm quite surprised I'm not diabetic by now.) Purposefully trying not to sleep, no matter what I have to do. Of course, sometimes, we all need to sleep, right? I wish I didn't.

It was pretty dreary that one night, if you ask me. Pouring rain outside; I think there might have been a hurricane somewhere nearby. Like many nights, I was awake, the time being somewhere around, what, 3 am? 4? My eyes began to slip slowly closed, sleep quietly beckoning me.

No. No, I can't. But... No.

A nonexistent wind played at a curl hanging behind my ear. Come one, Teya. Just sleep. You know you want to...' No. I ignored it and instead opened up my email. Maybe those little forwarded messages would help.

From: Hannah

Hey Tey! Look what I found for you! I know you're not all that into poetry, but I thought you might like this one:

In the shadows, he is creeping

Hears the anguish, his mind weeping

Unforgettable words that once was spoken

Now his heart is just a token

A symbol of what once was there

Turned away by society that did not care

So now he hides, with emptiness

With a soul that could care no less

A prostitute, all alone

A few cuts and her life is gone

On the streets of London, blood spilled, no shame Identity not discovered,

Jack The Ripper, his name.

Pretty creepy, huh? See you tomorrow!

My eyes scanned the poem over and over again, as if not by choice. And that is all before sleep, in all its dreadfulness, engulfs me.


I walk the now darkened streets of some town just outside of Baltimore; not too urbanized, but enough that there is street lights illuminating the sidewalk. I look down and see a fairly large-sized knife in my hand, the dark crimson liquid running down its edge and then down my arm, and I saw myself smile at it. A few blocks behind me, a body lays in a pool of blood, and another person screaming, not believing what just happened. And I feel nothing.

"Wow, it's scary how stuff like that happens so close to us," Hannah commented at lunch, where somehow the topic of an event broadcasted on this morning's news came up. "It sounds sort of like that one poem, don't you think, Tey?" She nudged my elbow. "Teya! Are you even listening?"

"What? Oh, yeah," I mumbled. "Sorry. Didn't get much sleep last night."

Hannah rolled her eyes at me. "You need to stop staying up so late. No wonder your grades are slipping."

"You don't get it, Hannah..." I muttered under my breath as I picked at my food.

She placed a hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong, Tey? Come on, we've been best friends since kindergarten. You know you can tell me anything."

"Well, you know what happened last night?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, what about it?"

"I dreamed of it."

She looked at me in disbelief for a second, but her eyes quickly softened. "Has this been going on for a while?"

I nodded. "That's why I don't sleep. I can't."

They say 'talking about it' helps, and I suppose so... for a while. But I can't be helped. Every time I dream of something, it happens. Every. Time. And I did tell Hannah about it, well, some of it at least.

"Do me a favor, Tey, and get some sleep tonight, okay?" Hannah asked. I nodded. She's pretty hard to say no to.

I climb quietly up the trunk of a tree and reach inside the window, smiling as my next victim screams for dear life. I drag them out to the street, and then to the bridge where I will kill them.

"No! Teya! Stop, stop it PLEASE!" they scream as I slash them repeatedly across the thought. I stop mid-slash.

"H-how do you know my name?" I ask. Suddenly my vision goes from blurry to clear, sharp, although I wish it hadn't.

Hannah's pleading eyes stare up at me, and I see shock, hurt, betrayal. "Teya..." she says weakly. "How could you do this to me? What have you become?"

I drop the knife down. "No! This isn't happening!" I scream. The air is filled with the sounds of my quiet sobs and Hannah's sharp breaths. "I'm so sorry Hannah..." I say. All I see in her eyes now is pain. So much pain. I look at her throat, which if bleeding furiously and basically is torn to pieces. She needs help. She needs to get to a hospital. But how? It's 1 am and I'm the only one who could get someone, and then what do I say? I stabbed my best friend! All those times, I was never dreaming! I killed all those people! I'll be sent to jail! I can't go to jail!

Do it... the voice inside me says.

"I'm sorry..." I whisper one last time before taking the knife and plunging it into Hannah's chest. She lets out a bloodcurdling scream and then everything is silent. I need to get out of here. Now.

I take the knife out of her chest and let the blood drip on my hands, dragging them across the wall. Then run.

I'm still here, and although I know I shouldn't, one does have to get some sleep once in a while. Just do it like Jack the Ripper.

Teen Found Dead Outside HomeEdit

The body of Hannah Summers, 17, was discovered early Thursday morning, the police said.
"I almost threw up at the sight," says the discoverer of the body, who wishes to remain anonymous. "It was horrible. Terrible, just terrible."
There were several lacerations to her throat, as if someone had been slashing back and forth, and one deep stab wound to her torso, which is believed to be the fatal blow.
Among this, investigators also found the words 'I'M SORRY' smeared in blood on the walls of a tunnel just feet away from Summers's body.
Her killer remains at large, and it is not known whether this is related to the series of other homicides that have been occurring in the area.
Teya Ross, a close friend of Hannah's has also gone missing, and it is believed she could have also been killed.
The investigation was continuing, the police said.