Every Night She Sleepwalked to Him—Until He Pretended No More Chapter 02

Every Night She Sleepwalked to Him—Until He Pretended No More Chapter 02

I had lived with a dissociative sleep disorder since childhood. During an episode, my conscious mind seemed to switch off while my body kept moving. Sometimes I woke partway through with no memory of what I had done.

The disorder began after my parents left for work in a major city and placed me with my uncle. He had three children of his own, and there was never enough food. I received less than half a bowl at every meal and went to bed hungry, dreaming about finding something to eat. In my sleep, I would wander into the kitchen and steal food.

After my aunt caught me, she began tying my hands before bed. Years later, my parents brought me to the city, where I finally had enough to eat. The disorder disappeared for a long time.

Then I moved into Ethan’s house three months ago, and the episodes returned again and again. Before bed, I wore a hair tie around my wrist. Every morning it had vanished, and my lips were swollen. At first, I assumed I had raided the refrigerator and eaten so much that my lips had puffed up.

That illusion ended this morning.

I walked into the bathroom and found Ethan standing before the mirror. With one long finger, he pulled aside the collar of his robe. A bright red hickey marked his neck.

That was when I first saw the captions. They said I kissed him every night, that he had resisted me at first, and that my persistence had worn him down. They also claimed Claire was the story’s main character—and Ethan’s online girlfriend. He was about to meet her in person and had been using me to improve his technique.

Once I learned the truth, I tied my wrists with a ribbon before bed. Somehow, the disorder still took over.

Now I looked down at the ribbon and struggled to free myself.

“Let me help,” Ethan murmured beside my ear.

His fingertips brushed my wrist, sending a current through my veins. After untying me, he smoothly wrapped the black ribbon over his own eyes and knotted it behind his head. The motion looked practiced, as though he had done it countless times.

Leaning against the headboard, he said in a trembling, husky voice, “Go ahead.”