How Does To Sleep End?

Diane Mercer has the perfect life, a loving husband, a brilliant four-year-old daughter, and a beautiful home by the lake. But perfection is a mask. Craving the passion her marriage lacks, Diane begins a dangerous affair fueled by lust and cocaine. When her two worlds violently collide one ordinary Thursday morning, the consequences are far worse than she ever imagined. What follows is a descent into psychological torment, betrayal, and supernatural horror that spans years. As guilt and paranoia consume her, Diane discovers the terrifying truth: some mistakes don’t end with death. They only begin there. Raw, relentless, and brutally intimate, Rest, Honey is a chilling exploration of desire, guilt, and the horrifying prisons we build with our own hands. A story that will haunt you long after the final page, because sometimes the worst thing you can see… is exactly who you’re becoming.

Mom always said I was dead to the world when I slept. I would suddenly doze off in the middle of class, while eating, even halfway across the street. My homeroom teacher suggested I get checked at a hospital, but Mom brushed it off with a scoff. "She just stayed up all night on her phone!" After that, my phone was confiscated, the lock on my door was removed, and every time I showed the slightest sign of drowsiness, I got slapped awake. I did not want to be hit, and I did not want Mom to get angry, so I started pinching my thighs, yanking my hair, even downing medicated oil just to stay awake. But when that wave of sleep hit, nothing could stop it. On the day of the final exam, Mom happened to be assigned as one of the proctors. I bit through my lip, silently begging myself, 'Just this once. Just hold on.' But in the end, I still couldn't fight it. The desk was suddenly flipped over. I went down with my chair, crashing hard onto the floor. My head struck the edge of the desk, and darkness swallowed everything in an instant. Mom stood beside me, furious and disappointed. "Cecelia Thorne, are you really so obsessed with sleeping that you don't even care about your final exams? If you're that lazy, then lie there and keep sleeping!" I lay sprawled over my exam paper, my vision dimming bit by bit. Mom, this time, I might really sleep for a long, long time.

After my husband, Trevor Penn, abuses me for the 98th time just to stand up for Callista Whitcombe, I've completely given up on him. That's when I accept his best friend, Maddox Harlow's confession. After spending the night with Maddox, he agrees to help me fake my death. That way, I'll be able to use a brand new identity to marry him overseas. I've taken the fake-death drug Maddox has given to me, only to wake up in a coffin earlier than expected. I can't move a single muscle in my body. But that's when I overhear Maddox's conversation with another person outside the coffin. "Mr. Harlow, you convinced Trevor to abuse Judith before pretending to save her from her abusive life. Now that you've obtained her full-fledged trust, why did you still arrange for her to be buried after faking her death?" "Only by doing this will the Whitcombes trust that Judith is truly dead. That way, Callie's position as the heiress will be unshakable. No one will ever bring up the fact that she's an illegitimate child ever again." The other person sounds hesitant. "Won't it be too long if we only dig the coffin out one week from now, after you've held the wedding with Callista?" "The fake-death drug's effects can last for five days. I've already had someone put enough water, food, and oxygen tanks in the coffin. There's no way Judith will die."

"What did they say?" He asked, almost too calm and very curious. "An animal fled with her." "They are lying! I want them in prison, till they tell me what happened to my daughter!!" He bellowed, clenching his fist while sitting on his blue, gold railed chair, beside his bed. "They are telling the truth." Seansha tried to reason. "No! They helped her hide away. They hid her, they know exactly where she is. And they will be tortured until they tell me the truth!" He barked furiously. • Ruby William is a modern teenage girl with a good family, good friends and a moderately perfect life. Until the night she turns eighteen, and gets stuck in a dream. Ruby fights to go awake, choosing her real life over her dream, which seemed too perfect. Things are opposite the way they appear, as those who are close to her or share a resemblance with those she loves, are harbinger of her demise.

“Oops! You’ve run out of your happy days,” she sang. After the tragic death of Noah's family, his heart was adorned with eternal cracks. He finally found a reason to live. Noah Parker and the love of his life, Ella, are married now. One night, the hallucinations about his twin sister engulf him to an extent that Noah injures himself. An argument breaks out between him and Ella because he refuses to see a psychiatrist. In the middle of the night, Noah is awakened by a blinding light. He discovers that his wife is missing. Ella’s quest leads him to the forest surrounding the lakehouse. He passes out in the woods. Searching for his wife will leave Noah’s heart with even deeper cracks. Veiled truths. Everlasting wounds. Harrowing past.

My husband, Matt Miller, suffers from severe insomnia. He can't stand a little bit of noise while he's asleep. After six years of marriage, I've gotten used to the quiet. I don't watch TV after 9:00 pm. I don't make calls or eat. I even walk on tiptoes. Everything feels worth it when I see him sleeping soundly. Until one day, when I go to his office to deliver some documents, I realize the door isn't tightly shut. His secretary, Faye Davis, is sitting cross-legged on the carpet while eating potato chips. A variety show is playing loudly in the background. Meanwhile, Matt is asleep on the couch. Just as Faye reaches forward to turn down the volume, he raises his hand and strokes her hair, all the while keeping his eyes closed. "It's okay. I sleep better with the noise." I stand outside the door, recalling the bad cold I had last month. Afraid that my coughing would wake him up, I had buried my head into the pillow all night. The next day, he frowned and complained, "You were breathing so loudly last night. I couldn't sleep at all. Keep it down next time." Amid the crunching sounds of potato chips and Matt's steady breathing, I slowly step back. Turns out the cure to his insomnia isn't silence, but a woman. Only that woman isn't me. I guess I won't be bothering him at night anymore.