Little Girls Sleeping

"Don't you for a second believe that we are ever letting you go, sweetheart". He muttered against her ear, his husky voice sending jolt through her body. His tongue suddenly flicked out to lick her ear lobe. She didn't even understand why was this happening to her. "You are stuck between us, Vanessa." another voice muttered out as he trailed his lips down her chest, his breath fanning against the skin between valley of her breasts. She whimpered feeling scared of them. "You are ours, love." the third voice made it's way to her ear. The last brother's lips teasing the nape of her neck and he suddenly bite the sensitive skin there making tears fell out of her doe eyes. "P-P-P-Please l-l-l-let me g-go." Vanessa pleaded to them making the trio smirked at her stuttering self. "Say this without stuttering and then we will consider your request." one of them said to her and the trio laughed at her aloud. *** Joaquin, Emiliano and Alejandro Fernandez are the triplet brothers. Their aura screams danger and power. They always have the upper hand and no one dares to cross them. They never had a mother figure in their life but a bastard father names Teal, who was killed at the name of peace treaty by Russian mafia boss Miakhail Igor Gorbachev years ago. Now they only had their sister with them but she was also taken away by Liam ovich Gorbachev and the Spanish trio brothers are furious would be an understatement. Vanessa Lynn Gorbachev, daughter of Rooh and Mikhail Igor Gorbachev and the only sister of Liam, is an innocent little girl. She was as innocuous as the child because she was never been out in the cruel world. She was homeschooled because of her stuttering problem.

My dad always calls me a lazy bum. It is because I often fall asleep without warning. I sleep in class, while eating, and even while crossing the street. My homeroom teacher, Yvonne Smith, suggests that he take me to a hospital for an examination. But Dad scoffs and says, "He's just staying up all night playing on his phone." After that, he confiscates my phone and removes the lock from my bedroom door. Every time I get sleepy, he slaps me. I don't want to be hit, and I don't want to make Dad angry. So, I start pinching my thighs, pulling out my hair, and even rubbing hand sanitizer spray under my nose to stay awake. But whenever the overwhelming drowsiness hits, nothing can stop it. On the day of the final exams, Dad happens to be one of the invigilators. I bite my lip until it bleeds and silently beg myself inwardly, "Just this once, please stay awake." Still, I fail to fight off the sleepiness. Suddenly, someone flips over my desk. The chair tips with it, and I crash to the floor. My temple slams into the corner of the desk, and darkness instantly floods my vision. Dad stands over me, furious and disappointed. "Zach Davies, are you really so obsessed with sleeping that you don't even care about your final exams? If you're that lazy, then stay down there and keep sleeping!" I lie sprawled across my exam paper as my vision slowly fades away. Dad, I think I am going to sleep for a very long time…

Four days after my death, my four-year-old daughter finally sensed that something was terribly wrong. The fridge door slammed into her forehead when she tried to get a snack. Normally, I would've been there in a heartbeat—arms open, kisses ready, whispering, "You're okay, sweetheart, Mommy's here." But this time, I just lay on the bed, cold and still.​ She didn't understand. She thought the sweet treat would make me respond. So she held the final piece of chocolate up to my mouth. "Here, Mommy. Have some chocolate..." But I didn't even blink. She climbed into my arms, clutching my clothes tightly. "Mommy... Mommy, wake up..." She waited for me to stroke her hair, to tell her that everything was going to be fine. There was only silence.​ Completely lost and scared, she found my phone. "Daddy, why is Mommy still sleeping?" she asked, her voice filled with desperation.​ In response, Oliver sent a photo of himself having Christmas Eve dinner with his childhood sweetheart. His voice was icy cold when he replied, "She's just sleeping, not dead. It's Christmas Eve, and I'm busy. Tell her to stop playing games and come apologize when she's done sulking." Then he hung up.​ But when the truth finally hit Oliver—when the coroner's report came, when the police knocked on his door right in the middle of his laughter, when he realized I'd been lying dead for four days while he toasted—he broke.

He calls himself my guardian. But I want him to call me a good girl. I moved in after my mother died. He opened the door — broad chest, deep voice, eyes that stalled when they dropped to my tits. He tried to be decent. Tried to be safe. But I’ve been wet for him since day one. He’s twice my age. Raised my half-sister. Taught her to say “Dad” like it was gospel. But I know what she really wants. I see the way she watches him. The way she watches me when I bend over the kitchen counter, tank top riding up, no bra in sight. This house is full of secrets, soaked sheets, and girls who know better. He pretends not to want it. She pretends she’s not touching herself at night. And me? I leave the door open and let them both fall apart. Because I don’t want to be loved. I want to be used. Ruined. Claimed in every room until they forget who’s the daughter, who’s the guest, and who’s in charge. He raised her. He took me in. But — who’s he going to fuck first?

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.

"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.