Sleep Tight: A Novel

By Taarika Tahilyani

What would you do if you were imprisoned in a nightmare each night?

All thirteen-year-old Sophie Ellerby wants is to be normal, to finally be free of this burden that she has held for so long. Ever since she can remember, she been faced with a jarring scene the moment she drifts off to sleep: someone's death. These sel

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Degree Press
• Release date: Jun 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889269823

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SleepTightCover.jpg

Sleep Tight

Sleep Tight

A novel

Taarika Tahilyani

New Degree Press

Copyright © 2023 Taarika Tahilyani

All rights reserved.

Sleep Tight

A novel

ISBN

979-8-88926-939-7 Paperback

979-8-88926-982-3 Ebook

To my parents, for first putting a pencil in my hand. Every journey begins with the first step, and you helped me take mine.

—Taarika Tahilyani

Stars can’t shine without darkness.

—D.H. Sidebottom

A Note from the Author…

I’ve always been passionate about writing. I knew from a young age I wanted to become a professional author when I grew up, and this book helped start that dream for me. Hopefully, there are many more to come. 

When searching for inspiration, many writers look to writing prompts, and many books, including this one, branch off from one. The prompt that shaped this book was something along the lines of You’ve had strange dreams lately. You find it weird, but the doctor thinks there’s more to the story. It’s a very basic, vague prompt—like most prompts are, with room for the writer to develop and grow the prompt to fit their version of the story. I scrolled right past it at first. It didn’t resonate with me. Then I looked at it again and inspiration struck to write Sophie’s story from the perspective of a girl forced to dream of death every night, who knows the person in the dream really dies, who’s grown up believing those deaths are all her fault.

In fifth grade, it started as just a casual thing, something I wrote when I finished my homework, then eventually grew into something bigger. My friends helped me edit it, I started spending more time writing… and then, one Mother’s Day, I had an idea. I downloaded my finished first draft as a PDF file and ran to my parents, wailing that there was a book report I had to do based on it. I said I would never finish, and my teacher said I had to do it with a parent. My mom sat down and started scrolling through it, but she didn’t know it was my writing. I told her it was by Suzanna Jones and was a published book, and when she finished, I asked her to tell me what she thought of it. She said it was amazing and then gave a few small critiques. I revealed it was my writing. The look of pure shock, surprise, and happiness on her face is one I will never forget.

Once she realized my passion for writing this book and writing in general, she looked into this program, and when I got the opportunity to join it, I was overjoyed and amazed. I was going to become a published author! After that, this book became my dedicated project, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.

—Taarika Tahilyani (or should I say, Suzanna Jones?)

Chapter One

Not all tragic movies start off sad. Some even begin happily, which is how the day of February 24th began, with no foreshadowing of what lay ahead.

Warm golden sunlight streamed onto Randolph Jamieson’s face as he glanced at his daughter. Kelsey, would you pass the mustard?

Sure, she said, reaching across the metal table. Café Oren was extremely popular but was in a smaller, quainter part of town. It was here they could finally block out the sounds of car horns blaring, airplanes humming—and the people. So many people. Laughing, screaming, chatting, talking away on the phone, crying, yelling… But Café Oren was different. Here, unlike in busier parts of the city, people wouldn’t have to yell at the person next to them to be heard. Here, the quiet chatter was pleasant and soothing, and the warm laughter floating into the sunny blue sky was easy and gentle. This was what they loved about this part of town, which is why they’d been coming here for years.

Randolph pushed his chair back decisively and grinned, revealing dimples. Delicious. Ready to go, Kelsey?

She nodded and stood, her long dark curls falling into her face. Yup. Are we going to the ice cream shop now, Dad?

We could— He gasped, shivering in pain. Oh my God, he whispered, slamming his hands on the table, the world spinning around him. The entire ground tilted, and he sank back into his chair, his body trembling. You go to the ice cream shop, he mumbled, pain exploding through his entire body as he held out a ten-dollar bill in a shaking hand. I’ll meet you down there in a second.

Kelsey’s stomach began to turn, and she let out a shivery breath, dropping back into her seat. Even with the huge effort she could tell he was making to keep her from worrying, something was obviously wrong. But he had to be fine. He was all she had left. Kelsey’s mother had died giving birth to her brother Eddy four years ago when Kelsey was seven. She remembered being in the hospital, waiting for her mom to go into labor. She had been elated to have a little brother.

Kelsey traced the holes in the handle of her chair. Now Eddy was dead too. It had been three months since they got the news. There had been a fire in Eddy’s preschool. He didn’t make it out fast enough. It was a blur of memories now, but she vaguely remembered cuddling her dad on the sofa, crying the whole night, wishing they could change something, that one of them could be the one screaming and running away from the burning school instead of Eddy. For months afterward, nightmares of scorching golden blazes and billowing smoke plagued her.

Her father was the last person she had.

Her bottom lip quivered at the memories. She pushed the thoughts out of her mind and took the ten-dollar bill out of his shaky hand. Okay, Dad. I’ll see you there.

He didn’t answer but gave her a slight nod. For a second, she wondered if she should stay but decided against it. After all, he would be okay. He had to be.

She walked to the ice cream shop down the street, warm rays of lemony-gold sunlight streaming onto her face. Tears threatened to escape, and her nose began to sting. She held it in, reassuring herself everything would be fine. Nothing else could possibly go wrong. Only eleven years into her life, she had already lost everyone else she loved. What more could happen?

When she got inside the shop, she forced a smile on her face to greet the ice cream store owner, Joey. He was a friend of her dad’s. Hey, Joey. One scoop of strawberry sherbet, please.

Sure, Kelsey, said Joey, returning the smile with a genuine one of his own. He scooped the ice cream into a small cup.

Her lip quivered again, the tears welling up in her eyes, unable to return the smile. Nothing seemed happy or even remotely pleasant at all. It felt like all the happiness had been sucked out of the world, her dad a looming darkness, a question unanswered.

Joey placed a spoon inside the cup. It’ll be $5.37, please.

Kelsey reached into her pocket and handed him ten dollars. She grabbed her ice cream, collected her change, and mustered a wave before walking back down the street to Café Oren. The cool taste of ice cream on her tongue soothed her. Maybe it was the familiarity of the taste, but whatever the reason was, it calmed her a little, assuring her it would all be all right. She finished her cup in a few minutes.

Ice cream tends to lie, Kelsey discovered that day.

Because at Café Oren, everything was not all right.

Paramedics were loading her father onto a stretcher and into the back of an ambulance. His eyes were closed, his skin pale. Kelsey broke into heavy sobs and rushed over to her father. Paramedics hovered around her, shouting to leave the patient alone, but she ignored them. She touched her father’s ice-cold wrist, frantically searching for a pulse. Kelsey found it, but he was unconscious.

Away from the patient, please, young lady! cried an outraged paramedic in blue scrubs.

I-I’m his daughter, she managed to choke out. Kelsey Jamieson.

His daughter?

She couldn’t speak anymore. Her head bobbed up and down.

I’m sorry, said another paramedic with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes. A pair of thin-rimmed gold glasses perched on her nose, and a name tag pinned to her scrubs read Sylvie. Your father is unconscious; someone called the ambulance. We have to take him to the hospital. Who can I call to take you home?

Kelsey shook her head. This was no longer a stomachache. This was serious, and the weight of it was beginning to set in. She swallowed back tears. No. I have no one else.

Sylvie glanced at her with sympathy. Why don’t you come with us? But hurry, please. We’ve got to get him there ASAP.

Kelsey wanted to stay with him, so she didn’t argue as Sylvie helped her up the steps into the back of the ambulance. She took a seat and gazed out the window, lost in her own thoughts. Her eyes burned with tears, and a light headache made its way up her temples. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. A few minutes ago, he was fine and happy. How had so much changed in such a short time?

The ambulance’s siren whined, flashing red lights. Kelsey always felt a strange mixture of feelings whenever she saw an ambulance drive by. On the one hand, she was upset something bad had happened to someone, but on the other, she was happy the ambulance was there and they were at least getting the help they needed.

Her shoulders shook violently, and she buried her face in her hands as her entire body caved in. She wasn’t watching the ambulance drive by anymore.

She was in it, living the pain.

The ambulance drove up to the ER doors, tearing Kelsey from her thoughts as a flurry of activity surrounding her. Paramedics wheeled her father out of the ambulance while she sat in the middle of it all, unsure of what to do.

We’re here, said a heavyset paramedic with a curly beard, messy brown hair, and muscular arms covered in tattoos. His voice was gruff, and the small badge pinned to his uniform read Mark. He helped her back out of the ambulance and through the large double doors of the hospital. Paramedics rushed ahead of Kelsey and Mark, wheeling her father in on a stretcher.

I want to stay with him, Kelsey demanded, rubbing the tears from her eyes. Please.

He would be fine. It would be okay. She’d go and see him. The paramedics would say it was a short-term, one-time thing, and they would release him from the hospital. They’d go home and eat ice cream and watch movies. Everything would be fine. It had to be.

Mark nodded, his eyes searching hers until finally, he spoke. Follow me, he replied and led her through a series of passageways and into a room.

A row of metal chairs lined one wall of the little room. Kelsey’s heart wrenched as she recalled the same chairs at the café she and her father had sat in a little while ago, back when everything was okay, and her life didn’t threaten to shatter before her eyes.

Take a seat, said Mark. The doctors have got to stabilize him and let him rest before any visitors are allowed.

Kelsey sighed and took a seat on one of the chairs. Mark looked her over one final time and left the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She grabbed a magazine from the side table and tried flipping through it, but her attention kept flickering elsewhere. Eventually, she returned it to the table and sighed, staring into the distance. Kelsey began to envision what would happen to her if her father died. Would they send her to a foster home? To live with distant relatives? What if they treated her badly? Worse: what if they couldn’t find anyone to take her in?

It wasn’t as if loneliness was new to her, but the thought still sent shivers rocketing down Kelsey’s spine.

It hadn’t felt like a long time, but Kelsey glanced at the clock in the room and realized it had been almost an hour since Mark had left her here. She was burning with desperation inside and was considering throwing open the door and finding her father herself when the door opened. A nurse with short light