The Nightmare Years Book Novels & Stories

How was I pregnant after years of sleeping in separate rooms from Alain? Fragmented memories flashed through my mind. On our wedding anniversary, I took my sleeping pills and drifted off. In a haze, I felt someone lying beside me. But when I woke up, all that remained was a faint scent of alcohol. Realization struck me as I clasped my fingers. Alain, inebriated, had come to the wrong room and slept with me. A sharp headache stabbed through my skull, and I clutched it in agony. After losing Jeff, I had been on psychiatric medication for a prolonged period, leaving my memories disjointed and often forgotten.

Control her. Maybe he was blinded by some amount of compassion he felt for her? But how can one even care for a monster in the first place? If this man was right about the mother daughter duo, then her mother, apparently, shares the darkness that they’ve been leaching into the town. Oliver is relishing in the lead we’ve been given. “So, where is she? Can you describe her?” “She’s a kid. Fourteen, fifteen...I don’t know. She scares the shit outta me. Everyone calls her nightmare girl.” He speaks directly to Oliver.

Once that was no longer the case, he could date whoever he wanted, and I couldn't care less. It was a pity Samuel didn't notice that. He was still banging on the door. I shook my head, put in my earplugs, and went to sleep. It was getting late, and the sleepy bug was catching up to me. Samuel finally ran out of steam about fifteen minutes later, giving the door one final thump in frustration. "You did this first, Noelle. Don't you ever regret this!" Threats wouldn't work on me. I was no longer a kid. I closed my eyes and slept. The next day, I met up with my attorney and served him the papers. I received no response, but I was sure he saw them.

Nathan spoke bluntly, "Savannah, this can't be real. You wouldn't actually marry a man you barely know. This whole marriage has to be a lie. "And besides, you're nothing more than a stepdaughter in our family. Who would bother paying attention to you? Certainly not a family as respected as the Grants. You're just trying to manipulate us for attention. I'm not buying it." Yet as he spoke, tears began to well in his eyes. At that moment, I was suddenly carried back to our childhood. The three of us would often play house. I'd slip into adult clothes to pretend to be the bride, while the two brothers bickered over who would be the groom.

J Jeannine jerked from the vision, once again back on the Sultana. “You don’t remember that last bit, do you?” said Papa Nightmare. “The New York papers had a field day with the story. ‘Horror in the Stacks’ was the headline. They said they found books on New Orleans state law strewn around the remains. Which, of course, told us all who was responsible.” Papa Nightmare finally walked into Jeannine’s line of sight. “You get it now, little plaçage, don’t you?” “What . . . what am I supposed to get?”

I would honour their sacrifice, and carry on their legacy. I jolted on the bed breathing heavily, with my body tense, drenched in a cold sweat. The echoes of the nightmares, more of memories, the memories from thirteen years ago still lingered in my mind, refusing to release their grip on my consciousness. It was as if I was trapped in a never-ending loop, reliving the horror of that fateful night.

This nightmare is becoming too constant. My elbows press on the bed as I push myself, sitting upright. My fingers dig through my hair, my tongue rolling through my lower lips. It feels dry. Just like my throat. I was thirsty. The same way I feel whenever I wake up from the nightmare. This nightmare was always about that incident that happened seven years ago. The one thing I was trying so badly to forget. But why is it coming back and torturing me?

"How did you know that I had that nightmare just now?" He lifted his head and thought about it for several seconds. "Mommy has nightmare every few days, how can I not know about it?" Hailey robbed his head with a smile, she smiled coldly. She had been having that nightmare over and over again for the past five years. Everytime she slept soundly, she would be woken up by that nightmare and then she would feel restless that day. It has been five years, when she thought she had forgotten about the past, that nightmare would come to remind her of the pain she felt in the past over and over again.

Emilia hesitated but eventually nodded, restarting the car. Anthea, on the other hand, heaved a sigh before turning around to look out of the window. Her eyes swept over the crowded streets of New York City while her mind drifted back to her nightmare. It wasn't the first time she had this nightmare. For five years, she had been having this same nightmare, which made her life a living hell. The nightmares, the harsh words, the betrayal, the heartbreak, and all the painful memories still pierced through her heart like a sharp knife. They cut her heart into pieces.

“But he’s also a boy with a dream. One he’s had since he was five and duct-taping socks into makeshift basketballs because we couldn’t afford a real one. One he has bled for, trained for… lived for.” I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out an old, worn photo. She handed it to me, and I took it with both hands. It was Noah, seven or maybe eight years old, grinning wide, front teeth missing, holding a trophy almost as tall as he was. His fro was full and wild, his jersey hanging off his thin frame, but the fire in his eyes… that same fire still burned in him now.